Category Archives: Family

‘The virus piggybacked on racism’: why did Covid-19 hit BAME families so hard?

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Ida lost two brothers in 10 days, and Ken’s teenage sweetheart died at 44. Now, they’re looking for answers

Sir Oyaseh Ivowi sits in front of a poster of two of his three boys. Olume, the older brother, hovers over Isi; both wear traditional Nigerian dress. Underneath are the words: “Gone too soon, but not forgotten. Olume Godfrey Ivowi, 7 November 1973 to 10 April 2020. Isi Benjamin Emitsemu Ivowi, 17 November 1985 to 19 April 2020.”

Olume, 46, and Isi, 34, died in Luton and Milton Keynes respectively. Their passing made headlines because it was so shocking: two brothers killed by Covid-19 in such a short space of time. A third brother, Osi, also caught the virus, but has recovered.

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Improve your relationships – with advice from counter-terrorism experts

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Emily and Laurence Alison specialise in communication and co-operation with criminal suspects. But their methods work in the home and at work, too

“The more you push someone, the more they close up,” say Emily and Laurence Alison, a husband-and-wife psychology team. “The hungrier you are for information, the harder it will be to get that out of someone. But give the person a choice about what they say; give them some autonomy and you begin to build the rapport that may lead to a better conversation,” says Laurence.

This sounds like parenting advice and yet the Alisons’ specialism is helping counter-terrorism officers and the police to improve communication and co-operation with criminal suspects. When the atmosphere turns adversarial and competitive, as it so often does, they turn to the Alisons to help them navigate and negotiate.

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Again Once Again review – elegant meditation on the pains of motherhood

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This engaging, philosophical film unpicks the challenges faced by a young mother trying to reconnect with the life she had before her son’s birth

A woman leaves her boyfriend to visit her mum in Buenos Aires, taking their three-year-old son with her – not sure yet if it’s a holiday or a breakup. She hasn’t worked since her son was born and is having an emotional and intellectual crisis. She feels almost non-existent. “I don’t see myself. Who am I?”

This is an elegant, elusive debut from the Argentinian playwright Romina Paula, who picks away at the fantasy that motherhood leads to instant fulfilment. Her film is like an arthouse version of the sitcoms Motherland and Catastrophe, with fewer laughs and more philosophical introspection. It has the feel of a feminist essay that has been semi-dramatised for screen – with Paula starring as a fictional version of herself and her real-life mum and son Ramón playing themselves.

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Covid-19 threatens access to abortions and contraceptives, experts warn

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Unplanned pregnancy rates have fallen globally, report finds, but coronavirus could endanger access to services

Rates of unplanned pregnancies have fallen around the world, according to new data published by health research organisation the Guttmacher Institute and the UN Human Reproduction Programme (HRP) on Wednesday.

Global rates of unintended pregnancies have fallen from 79 per 1,000 women aged 15 to 49 in 1990 to 64 in 2019, thanks in part to a concerted effort to increase access to contraceptives, but there are concerns that decades of progress in reducing the numbers risk being undone by Covid-19, as lockdown restrictions hamper health services.

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The power of touch: when my son visited in lockdown, we couldn’t hug. It was a reminder of the saddest truth

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My son’s 14th birthday was the first he and I had spent apart – then he called to say his mother had Covid-19. We were faced with a reality I had hoped to forestall for ever

Welcome to the Guardian’s Power of Touch series

We Jacksons are not effusive types. There ain’t a helluva lot of hugging and touching at family gatherings. However, one of the few exceptions is my son, who’s been unfettered with his affections since he was toddling around his mother’s New Jersey home – he and I have never lived together full-time. My son’s been a boy who, unprompted, says, “Dad, I love you” and wraps me in the tightest of hugs. Who, when he’s seen his sister after a long absence, almost tackles her with glee. Who’s still apt to let a deluge go on account of hurt feelings. In plenty of explicit ways, he’s my emotional opposite, a boy who showed me how to embrace; who, along with his sister, softened parts of me that my own boyhood had hardened; a kid who’s been instrumental in ushering me as close to comfortable with physical expressions of love as I have been in all my almost 45 years of life.

What kind of father was I that I was scared to receive my flesh and blood?

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‘One in a 50m chance’: woman with two wombs carrying a twin in each

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Kelly Fairhurst found out about uterus condition when she went for 12-week scan

The case of a woman who discovered she had two wombs and was pregnant with a twin in each has been described as “one in 50m” by doctors.

Kelly Fairhurst, 28, only learned she had uterus didelphys, a condition where a woman has two wombs, when she went for her 12-week scan. She was also told she was carrying twins, one in each womb.

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Coronavirus: what changes mean for people shielding in England

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From 6 July, people with underlying health issues will no longer have to avoid all contact with others

With the government relaxing lockdown for those shielding from Covid-19 in England, we explore what this means for the most vulnerable in society.

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‘The older I get, the less I fear’: meet the Italian Larry David

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A decade after his two much-loved comedies about the vicissitudes of ageing, director Gianni Di Gregorio explains why, against his own expectations, he had to make another

In 2000, after a decade of caring for his ailing mother in her large flat in Rome, Gianni Di Gregorio wrote a comedy about a bloke called Gianni who looks after his 93-year-old mother in a large flat in Rome. No one was interested in the story, in which the unemployed bachelor ends up running around after a cohort of old ladies whose spirit and vigour remain undimmed despite various ailments. Everyone thought he was crazy: who would be interested in a funny film about four old women and a middle-aged bloke?

Related: Gianni Di Gregorio: The incidental director

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Family cooking under coronavirus: ‘I’ve become a chef with two grumpy regular customers’

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Cooking and clearing up has been relentless – and that’s without adding a special birthday cake to my range of signature dishes

I’m sitting down to write this having just cleaned fox poo out of the tiny grooves in the soles of my four-year-old’s sandals. She also, somehow, smeared it all over her legs, her dress, my legs, my shorts. The only plus I can take from it is that, for once in our crowded corner of south London, social distancing was not an issue.

Of course, even in non-coronavirus times, 98% of anecdotes about young children end in someone being covered in something or other. But for many parents – at which point I insert an enormous caveat to make it clear that I’m talking about those who haven’t been infected, or made redundant, and aren’t frontline workers, and are extremely lucky enough to still be operating in a strange bubble of “normal” – I’d suspect that the greatest challenges of the past few weeks, and moments of profoundest despair, have come in the kitchen.

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‘I feel I’ve come home’: can forest schools help heal refugee children?

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They have a middle-class reputation, but one outdoor school near Nottingham is reconnecting disadvantaged 10-year-olds with nature and a sense of freedom

When Kate Milman was 21, she paused her English degree at the University of East Anglia to join protests against the Newbury bypass. It was 1996, and the road was being carved out through idyllic wooded countryside in Berkshire. She took up residence in a treehouse, in the path of the bulldozers, and lived there for months. It was a revelation. She lived intimately with the catkins, the calling birds, the slow-slow-fast change in the seasons. Despite being in a precarious position as a protester, she felt completely safe and her brain was calmed.

“You know when you go camping and go back to your house, and everything feels wrong? The lighting is harsh and everything seems complicated indoors. It just got under my skin, this feeling – that [living in the woods] is like being at home.”

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Refuges from domestic violence running out of space, MPs hear

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Dame Vera Baird warns select committee Covid-19 lockdown is leading to ‘perfect storm’

Refuges providing sanctuary to victims of domestic violence are running out of space, with many full or effectively closed amid an “epidemic inside this pandemic”, the victims’ commissioner has told MPs.

A “perfect storm” of problems is in danger of overwhelming support services for those trying to escape violent and abusive partners, Dame Vera Baird QC warned members of the House of Commons justice select committee.

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My dad said I wasn’t black enough. At last, I know what he meant | Raven Smith

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I’m mixed race and ‘culturally white’, and seemed to be a disappointment to my father – but we just weren’t close

My dad said it to me when I was seven years old and it stung like vinegar on a paper cut. Of all the things you throw at kids you never know which ones will stick. This one accidentally stuck. I’m not black enough. The phrase, the unblackness, was planted, and developed like an irksome bruise I only feel when I bend a certain way. It’s a scar tissue formed from acid poured into my wound after I was hit by the paternal truck of not-black-enoughness. An unexploded bomb that’s leaking mustard gas into my blood.

I’m fully grown now, but the comment still tinkles lightly on the piano of my mind. Whiteness is in my blood. Well, half of it. My mum’s never done an ancestry DNA test, but as a woman from north London who regularly burns in the British sun, it’s safe to assume she’s majority Caucasian. I’m mixed-raced and grew up in multicultural Brighton. When my parents split up, my dad stayed in Brixton and I was occasionally evacuated to him on school holidays. As a single parent, aware of her son’s racial identity, my mum rallied, and founded Mosaic, a support group for mixed-parentage families. Brighton is inherently liberal, but “How come your mum’s white, but you’re not?” was the power ballad of my childhood.

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Being locked down with my family is making me panic

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Count your blessings and enjoy the lull this slower pace of life is providing, says Mariella Frostrup

The dilemma I know I should be thinking about the global crisis and what’s happening to those less fortunate, but I can’t get beyond panicking about my own circumstances. I’m stuck at home with four kids, two dogs, a husband whose freelance work is in free fall and my own career is on hold. I’m struggling to deal with being cooped up with young children and I’m also wondering if crimes of passion will receive more lenient sentencing as my husband and I haven’t spent this much time together since our honeymoon! I appreciate you are as new to this as the rest of us, but do you have any words of wisdom?

Mariella replies Not really! Like many of you I know I should be thinking about the bigger picture, but for us mere mortals, who aren’t aspiring to – or ever likely to receive – canonisation, it can be a struggle to see beyond our own noses at the moment.

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Time to cut each other some slack amid lockdown fury | Zoe Williams

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In the coronavirus pandemic, everyone is trying to create new rules by constantly, volubly judging each other. Better to realise we don’t know the pressures others are under

Before we went into lockdown, I was trying to persuade my mother to reduce her contact circle to five. It seems absurd, now that everyone of advanced age and comorbidities has been told to see no one at all, but way back then (three weeks ago), this seemed reasonable. She immediately bartered the number up to six. It was like negotiating with Tony Soprano: there was no way she was coming out of the deal without the upper hand. Then I asked her how she planned to tell the rest of her associates that they weren’t on the list, and she said: “Good heavens, I’m not going to tell them. That would be so rude!”

Then the list was reduced to zero, but mysteriously, one of the original six went round anyway to fix her letterbox. I asked what was the point of fixing her letterbox, when the only important letter she was going to get would be from the government, telling her not to have anyone round, irrespective of whether or not she had a defective letterbox. She said she would prefer to have less advice, and be given a lethal injection. “I wouldn’t mind,” she said, graciously. “I”m not sure whether the main impediment to euthanasia is whether or not you mind,” I observed, extremely calmly and not at all sarcastically.

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When this is all over, I’m not going to stop hugging my friends | Josephine Tovey

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As coronavirus keeps us apart, I have developed a very wholesome thirst for the physical intimacy we used to have with friends and family

Lately, when I find myself reaching for my phone for a distraction, it’s no longer just to mindlessly swipe through Instagram stories and semi-ironically decipher my horoscope. Instead, I catch myself constantly returning to my camera roll. In particular, the photos where I’m touching my family and friends.

There’s the fuzzy Christmas party set of my colleagues and I, all cheek to cheek, craning our heads to get in a series of group selfies. There’s a backyard family lunch, me with my arm slung over my mum’s shoulder. There’s a day at the beach with my sister and her kid, us each holding a hand as we drag her back to the car. And there’s Mardis Gras night. It was just a few weeks ago but today the photos feel as though they belong in a history book. Friends and strangers covered in glitter and sweat, dancing close at a street party, arms wrapped around waists, exuberant kisses being planted on faces, all of us joyfully, drunkenly close to each other and vigorously engaged in whatever the opposite of social distancing is.

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‘He didn’t even pretend to let us win’… Growing up with the world’s biggest stars, by their children

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The sons and daughters of John Wayne, John Lennon, Caitlyn Jenner and others tell us what it was like to grow up with a world-famous dad

A lot of the happy memories of my father are from the late 1960s at Kenwood, the old Tudor house we had in Surrey, when I was a little boy. Without knowing it, I probably saw some of the greatest musicians in the world come and go through that house.

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Late-breaking news: there’s been a pandemic while you were away

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A full-scale disaster unfolded as we switched our phones back on after nine days of Colombian beaches and jungles

You can learn a lot about yourself in times of crisis, but you learn a hell of a lot more about the person you weather said crisis with. Best to strap in and bite your tongue. A lifetime of three weeks ago, my clever, rational other half and I went on a holiday to Colombia. He’s a man who rarely travels without a first aid kit, gaffer tape and a multi-tool thing allegedly essential for “survival”. I rarely travel without what he assumes are decadent luxuries – basic toiletries, to the rest of us – and three more books than I could possibly read. It’s a delightful match.

For eight or so days, we adventured on the country’s Caribbean coastline, trekked the jungle and landed on remote beaches far away from phone signal. It’s fair to say we were late to the memo. Turning our phones on after a self-imposed period of isolation was like watching a disaster film unfold. First, on a six-inch screen squinting at ticker tapes of rolling news. Then in full-blown Technicolor as Cartagena went into lockdown, with face masks being dealt out on street corners and a strict curfew enforced by police.

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A tale for our times: laughter is still the best medicine | Nancy Banks-Smith

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For one moment 100 years ago a war widow and a plague orphan had fun courtesy of Charlie Chaplin

Gather round my skirts, children, while I tell you about the great plague of 1919. It killed my Aunt Lucy, who was not, as her name suggests, an elderly spinster.

She was young and pregnant and wore a yard of red gold curls piled on her head. To have hair long enough to sit on was considered a mark of beauty. My grandmother always blamed her husband, believing the pregnancy had killed her. He may well have brought the virus back from the front. Either way, she never forgave him. Good at incubating a grudge, my Grandma Nancy.

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The longest holiday: parents coping with coronavirus school closures in east Asia

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In a bid to stem spread of the virus, schools in Hong Kong, China and Japan have been shut for weeks

“It’s been a long holiday,” laughs Hong Kong insurance worker and mother, Sarah Wong.

Wong and her two daughters, Chloe and Greeta, are at a co-working space in Jordan, Kowloon. Chloe has set her desk up like home, with an iPad, her own lamp, and an aromatherapy diffuser. The girls, aged 12 and eight, are listening to online lessons from their school which has been closed because of the coronavirus.

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My mum only had a few months to live. So we rented a van and took a road trip

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We’d been incredibly close when I was a child. Then, in 1994 she went away and never came back. Now here we were, taking to the road with no real plan after her cancer diagnosis

I had been sitting in the cafeteria of a hospital in Perth, Australia, for seven hours waiting for the phone to ring.

Seven hours of drained coffee cups, watching families cry and cling to each other, wondering if they were tears of grief or relief, seven hours of slowly feeling the panic rise up through my body.

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