After My Stroke – The First Day of My New Life
The First Day of My New Life
My stroke was on 13th June 2018. My new life started on the 14th. I did not sleep well on male stroke ward B2 in Blackburn Royal Infirmary that first night. There were a lot of thoughts going round and round in my head, of course. Then there was the noise, the groans and the ramblings. It was a small, modern, ward and there were 5 other stroke patients. The nurses did not stop attending to first one and then another patient. As I lay there it was obvious that they were in a lot worse state than I was. Perhaps Lauren was correct; perhaps I did have the “good” type of stroke.
As the following morning dawned I realised a couple of things. Firstly, I still had double vision. Second, I had been incredibly lucky.
Initial Stroke treatment
The first treatment for a stroke as a result of a clot (an ischaemic stroke) is to give the patient a blood thinning drug. The treatment is called thrombolysis. It thins the blood and so “dissolves” the clot. It is very effective if given within 4 hours of the onset of the stroke.
After thrombolysis, 10% more patients survive a stroke and live independently. Despite its benefits, there is a risk that thrombolysis can cause bleeding in the brain. This happens to about one in 25 people within seven days of thrombolysis, and this can be fatal in about one in 40 cases. The sooner someone is treated, the better their chances of improvement, and the lower the risk of harm. The risk of a bleed in the brain is the reason that I was not allowed out of bed for 24 hours of the treatment. I would be unsteady on my feet after the stroke and could easily fall over. Knocking my head would mean that there would probably be a bleed in my brain, and I would die.
With that sort of reasoning I was happy to spend 24 hours in bed using a bottle. Well, not happy, but using a bottle was preferable to dying.
Onwards and Upwards
When I was in the A&E I had said to Carol that I would be back to work in a couple of days. At that time I had no real appreciation of just how ill I was. One thing I did know was that this bloody stroke was not going to beat me. I would get better, I would return to work, and I would put this inconvenience behind me.
It sounded so easy.
I must say that the early days after my stroke were some of the most life affirming of my life. Every day, every morning and afternoon seemed to be marked with an improvement, (apart from the double vision).
June 14th, 1 day after the stroke
The day after my stroke I had a number of issues;
- I had double vision.
- My left eye would not close.
- My face had dropped on the left.
- I could not swallow.
- My speech was badly affected.
- Super sensitivity to noise.
- Panic attacks.
- I was unsure whether my cognitive abilities had been affected.
- I suffered from dizziness.
Apart from that I was OK.
None of these symptoms are unusual for stoke victims. It could have been a lot worse. Objectively I could see that I was in a far better place than most of my neighbours, either physically or I was more positive.
Double Vision and my Left Eye Not Closing
The double vision was the worst thing. It meant that I could not read, or see what was going on around me clearly. The solution to that was to tape my left eye shut. I was given a gel to put in my eye to moisten it to keep it from drying out and being scratched. With the left eye shut I was able to see clearly. I could read, type messages, and recognise who was talking to me! The solution to my eye not closing did present me with another issue. Taking the tape off my eye resulted in a loss of eyelashes and eyebrows! Still, that they would grow back was reassuring.
Gradually, my eye did begin the close. I can remember the first time I was able to wink at someone after my stroke and how good I felt being able to do something so simple. It took me about a month before my eye would close.
My Dropped Face
Even before the Occupational Health team descended on me I decided that I would need to do something about the fallen side of my face. In my mind the best thing that I could do was to rub my face to stimulate it and to remind my brain that it should be controlling that side of my face. As it happens that is one of the exercises recommended to stroke victims so I got a head start. Improvements began within a few days.
Swallowing and Speech Problems
Swallowing and speech impediment were connected. Half of my mouth and throat did not work. The day after my stroke I called Paul, my manager, to say that I was still alive. I also wanted to tell him that there were a couple of bananas in my desk and that he should remove them before they went off. The trouble was that I could not make the explosive “b” sound. It took hours – well, it seemed like hours – until I could make Paul understand what I was saying! All explosive sounds were impossible. The best way to improve the situation was to practice talking, so I did, I talked to anyone who would listen.
The swallowing function is something that often suffers after a stroke. For me it left me unable to swallow. The best I could do was to use my tongue to shovel the food or drink to the right of my mouth and, with my head tilted, swallow. The problem with being unable to swallow as you have done for all your life is that it is easy to forget that you need to be careful. Food or drink in your windpipe causes coughing but the real concern is that swallowing problems can lead to chest infections and pneumonia.
I was put on food with the consistency of baby food to reduce the danger of infection . Even worse, even the water and coffee had to be thickened to the consistency of sloppy wallpaper paste!
I practiced swallowing the gloopified water and gradually my swallowing improved. I was on unthickened water and thicker baby food within 2 days. As soon as I got home I moved on to “real” food!
Next Time
I will tell you more about the remaining issues and how they affected me (and still do in some instances.
Yes, it is meant to be a smile, day 3.
My Stroke – I Have Had Better Wednesdays – Part 2
My Stroke, no It wasn’t a Bad Dream….
So, the story of my stroke, where was I? Oh yes, I had arrived at work after having a couple of episodes of double vision and I did not feel terribly well. I obviously did not look too good as Victoria, a colleague, said that I looked pretty dreadful. As I was having a stroke, I suppose that was fair enough, although it is not a comment that boosts one’s ego. Geoff the first aider came to check me out and immediately asked for an ambulance to be called.
The paramedics arrived and I was still hanging on to the hope that they would say “go home and rest, it’s fine”. I was hoping that but I kn ew that it was a stroke. Oddly I could still hold my arms up, there was no weakness in my limbs, but the other symptoms were there. I could feel my face slipping on one side (at least I think that I could, it is hard to remember now). I also knew that my speech was becoming more and more indistinct. On the other hand my brain still felt sharp. If I had thought about it I would have expected someone having a stroke to feel their brain slipping away. The problem was making other people understand.
After a few minutes the para medics loaded me onto a wheel chair (I wanted to walk to the ambulance, but they were adamant). The only time I felt fear that day was when I was taken down the stairs on the wheelchair. I was strapped in to the chair and if I had been dropped I could have done nothing to protect myself as the chair and I bounced down 2 flights of stairs. Of course, the para medics did not drop me. It did not seem odd to be worried about the wheelchair being dropped but not about having a stroke, just goes to show what tricks the brain plays on you at times of stress.
The Ride to the Hospital and My Stroke Buddy.
If you could plan to have a stroke my main suggestion would be to have a “stroke buddy”, someone who goes to the hospital with you and helps you make sense of what is a confusing time. I had Carol. Carol is a colleague who suggested that I should have someone go with me to the hospital and volunteered to go with me. She stayed with me in the ambulance chatting and not letting me dwell on what was happening. She also acted as a buffer between the para medics and me, helping me understand what they were saying and helping them to understand me.
I am not sure that I thanked Carol on the day but she was of immense help to me. From sharing a secret look and smile when we both saw the nurse with the unusual hair colour, to laughing at my pretty weak jokes, to explaining what was being said when I was distracted she helped me stay calm. I remember thinking that I was calm and being surprised. Looking back I do think that the quiet competence of the para medics and Carol’s presence helped a lot.
The paramedics were great. When I asked about having the flashing lights on because it was the only opportunity I was likely to have they said “yes” and the lights were on, for no reason other than I wanted them on. Top Guys. The ride to the hospital was a time for me to take stock. I realised that my left eye would not close and that the left side of my face was dropping more. Although I knew that I had had, or was having, a stroke I did sort of think that I would be going home that day. I was still holding out for a couple of days off work and back in the next Monday. Carol said that she did not think that it would be that simple.
The A & E
I had never been in A & E before. My experience of A & E was gained from television and Ealing comedies. From the cheeky, heart of gold Barbara Windsor nurse, to the dedicated doctor who has “issues” of Holby General. Judging from my limited experience the truth is that the staff in A & E are professional, a bit cheeky, but they hide any personal issues very well. There were no meaningful looks between the nurses and doctors that I could see, no sly touching or innuendos. (But then was I in any state to notice? Probably not).
Carol kept me going. For some reason I felt the need to appear cheerful in front of her, no idea if I managed. I did not want to let the side down. She was being so supportive I owed it to her not to descend into self-pity. After all people get over strokes every day, right?
So, with the nurses being calm and professional into my life walked Lauren. Lauren was with the Occupational Health team. She was there to tell me what was going on and ( as I found out later) to observe me, gleaning what she could of my disability before I moved to the ward so that the OT team and the Speech and Language Team had an idea of my issues. She often attends a stroke patient that comes into A & E. If not her one of her team does. It was not until later that I appreciated the importance of her being there.
It was Lauren that explained to me that there are 2 basic types of stroke. One that is caused by a bleed into the brain and could need surgery and one that is caused by a blood clot in the brain. I had the latter. As Lauren said that is the good type of stroke.
The term “A good type of stroke” is a relative term.
Quasimodo’s elder brother? No sadly me…..
For more information about strokes visit http://stroke.org.uk
Be sure to check out how to recognise when someone is having a stroke and what tom do here.
My Stroke – I Have Had Better Wednesdays – Part 1
No One Expects the Spanish Inquisition, or A Stroke.
My stroke. Wednesday 13th June 2018. A perfectly normal day. I was looking after Meg, a golden Labrador for her mum, Di, had gone on holiday with Jane. I had fed Meg, given her a walk, and then taken her to her house for the day. It was 7.45 and I had half an hour before I had to start work. Just time enough to buy food the evening meal. I was going to have Lamb with smoked aubergine and minty broad beans. I was looking forward to making a new recipe. Driving away from Tesco I suddenly had double vision which cleared after 10 minutes. Although I did not know it, my stroke had started.
I drove on to work, feeling none the worse for the double vision episode. Was I worried? Not at all, I had experienced double vision before. That I put it down to one of the known side effects of Sertraline, my anti depression medication. I drove into work and parked up and the double vision started again. Again, I waited for a few minutes and when it passed I clocked into work, 8.20 5 minutes late, BUGGER!
My Wednesday, it gets worse.
Up the stairs and into the office. “Mornings” all round. Victoria looked up and asked me if I was OK. I said something about me having one of my dizzy and double vision episodes and that it would pass, as it had in the past. Then the double vision returned and I knew that I could not stand up without falling over, this was going to be a bad day. Victoria kept looking at me, obviously a bit concerned. By this time I was as well.
I held my arms out in front of me, no weakness there, so I knew that it wasn’t a stroke and I said as much, laughing, to Victoria. However, the words did not come out properly. I stopped for a few seconds and said to Victoria, ” Is my speech slurred?” She said yes and I said I think that you had better phone the first aider. Even as I said it I knew that it was a stroke and there was nothing I could do to alter what was about to happen.
Everyone Else Looks Worried
Geoff, the first aider was with me within a couple of minutes and almost immediately said “call and ambulance”. He knew that it was a stroke and confirmed that when I asked. He stayed with me, asking all the right questions and keeping me calm. Although I already felt calm. There was nothing that I could do. Besides there were enough worried people in the office without me adding to the number. I wanted to stay calm so that I could tell the para medics exactly what I was feling. They needed to have the right information as quickly as possible. It actually did not occur to me that they probably could not understand what I was saying…..
One of the many bad things about having a stoke is that your brain works (or you think that it does) but holding a conversation can be impossible. The upshot was that I had a list of symptoms and observations in my head but could not make anyone understand. I also thought that it was all rather unfair. I had stopped smoking (with a couple of slip ups) 10 months previously. Very unfair!
At some point I realised that this was going to be a seriously bad Wednesday.
For more information about strokes visit http://stroke.org.uk
Be sure to check out how to recognise when someone is having a stroke and what tom do here.
My Wood Turning Lathe Works!
Why was the Wood Turning Lathe Not Working Anyway?
Well, a couple of weeks ago the drive belt gave up the ghost. It was 13 years old and had begun to stretch, and stretch. Knowing that the end was in sight I bought a replacement. Confident that I could replace a drive belt on a wood turning lathe, easy peasy….
Only it was not that easy or, indeed, peasy. In fact it was diffy pissey… Very Diffy and definitely pissey – or my mood was as I tried with no luck what so ever to get the bloody circlip off. Worse still, even when that circlip was off there was another that I could not even see!!!!!!
Time for the Big Hammer on the Wood Turning Lathe.
I am not a patient person, I am prone to getting irked by inanimate objects that do not play nicely. I get irked by people as well, but I am on medication for that. Anyway if the Lathe was not going to respond to WD40 and circlip pliers I was going to get the lump hammer.
Luckily, I am also pretty disorganised and could not find it.
Facebook Rescues My Lathe, or Not.
Right, the top housing of the wood turning lathe was off. The circlip was still laughing at me. I know, the great online community that is Facebook will come to the rescue. So, I posted a note of my wood turning woes, and nothing.
A few days later I think of Geoff Laycock, a retired engineer and contact him. Yes, he would be happy to have a look at it. The trouble is he is a it busy restoring things and getting ready for the Chipping Steam Fare. So I give the lather housing to Geoff and he agrees to do his considerable best.
Oh yes, FB was not quite a wash out as Matt Pennington phoned to offer his help. Matt is a Good Bloke. GBs are worth their weight in gold as they are always willing to help. Added to that Matt is very practical. I tell him the problem, the circlips have not been off the spindle in 13 years, no sign of any movement. There is an almost audible sigh of relief when I say that the housing is with Geoff.
The Drive Belt is Replaced!
Geoff phoned to say that he had finished and all was well. Hot foot the housing is brought back and the woodturning lathe is put back together. With trepidation I turn it on.
It works!
And it works better than ever!
But, the proof of the pudding is in the eating….
So nice, only small but beautiful!
I think that it has a nice shape
The first test is a small, but nice Oak bowl. Not the most spectacular piece, but I am still so proud!
Thanks Geoff.
Come to Clitheroe, Pothole Capital
Come to Clitheroe, Pothole Capital
John Lennon wrote about 4000 holes in Blackburn Lancashire after reading about the state of Lancashire’s road in a local paper and the number of potholes. If he were alive today he would replace Blackburn with Clitheroe. Clitheroe is now the pothole Capital.
Pothole Slalom, the new sport.
One benefit of having numerous potholes in our roads is that those of us who live in Clitheroe are way ahead in the growing sport of Pothole Slalom, There are graded routes that we use to train on. The junior course is Henthorn Road. This is good beginners course as the holes are continuous and fairly obvious. Have alook at this;
Straight down the centre of the road this is a good place to start your Pothole Slalom career.
The great thing about this beginners run is that you can practice running along and escaping the holes. The holes themselves vary between 1 standard depth (the International Pothole Slalom Committee has decreed that a “standard depth” equals the size of one British 50p piece, about 1and a quarter inches) and one particularly surprising hole that is about 3 Standard Depths.
The feeder gates into the run also have interesting slalom features. I am taken by both the Speedall and Faraday Avenues. They both use the rippled and flaking obstacles so beloved of the good people of the Lancashire Highways Service.
Entrance to the Henthorn Pothole Slalom Route from Speedall Ave
The alternative Faraday entrance to the Henthorn run uses the crazy paving and rippled road obstacles to catch out the unwary pothole slalom novices.
At the end of the Henthorn run there is a lovely example of deep hole and ripple combination responsible for the unsettling of many a slalom novice.
A professional pothole ripple onstacle at the end of the Hentorn run.
Just before the ripple is this well concealed hole just waiting for the unwary pothole slalom athelete.
Although this is a novice level pothole slalom run Clitheroe’s roads have many more advanced pothole slalom obstacles that I will review in the future.
Next In Pothole Slalom Series.
The Sainsbury’s mini roundabout invitational pothole slalom event that attracts many competitors each day!
(In the unlikely event that you are not a fan of potholes, find out how to have them fixed here).
Wood Turning, Goosnargh 22nd April
Goosnargh 22nd April, I am back Wood Turning.
As you may know I began wood turning a few of years ago under the guidance and tuitaledge of Roni, my friend who lives in West Wales. Following an operation and being treated for depression I stopped wood turning.
Now that I am coming out the other side I have started wood turning again. The scary thing is that I have decided to start trying to sell my stuff. I have asked for a stall at the Goosnargh craft fair on the 22nd April.
This promotes a few emotions in me. The first is that I am well aware that a year ago I would not have even contemplated selling (or trying to sell) my work. That makes me pleased that I have come quite a long way from the depths of last year. Another emotion is a deep worry that no one is going to look at my stuff, let alone buy anything. Add to that the feeling that I do not have enough pieces to fill a six foot table and I am wondering whether this was such a good decision.
The Pressure is on, what should I turn?
So the pressure is on. I need to make some stock. What I need to do is to make some mushrooms and light pulls. What did I make today? A bowl.
Yes, it should have been a mushroom!
However, it is quite cute, at least I think so. It is turned from Spalted Beech which gives it those lovely colours.
Still not a mushroom!
There are creams, browns, and even blues in there.
I do like Spalted Beech, it is nice to turn and still has life in it. The bowl will move and change shape as the wood dries. The wood has a soul.
A few weeks ago I made another Spalted Beech bowl, I am using it as a fruit bowl, again the same beautiful colours….
Great Markings
So much of me wants Geoff at Craft Promotions to come back to me saying that all the stalls are taken………………..
Depression – The Tax Man Cometh, But is Not Their Fault
Depression
Depression is a debilitating disease. It removes motivation. It produces anxiety attacks that can stop the sufferer from leaving the house. Depression also destroys concentration. It does a lot more like make the sufferer hell to live with. Medication is there to help but, as I have found finding the right medication and the right dose can be trial and error.
HMRC and Me
What does not help is being into a stressful situation where the anticipation is often worse than the reality. So, when I had a visit from Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs (HMRC) to talk about my failure to pay the right amount of tax over a number of years you can imagine what sort of state I was in. My medication makes me tired, but the anxiety of the upcoming visit made it hard to sleep. Coupled with my medication producing very vivid dreams the results were not pleasant.
It is my own fault that I owe income tax. The story as to why I am in the position of owing income tax is one of my own making. I started selling bits and bobs on eBay and Amazon years ago. As time went on I began buying items at car boot sales, charity shops and re-selling them. Then I bought items to sell off the internet. Along the way I crossed the line between selling my own stuff as a hobby and selling items as a business as defined by HMRC. The outcome is that I have tax liability.
All this would be stressful enough without depression raising its ugly and malevolent head. When they arrived the ladies from HMRC were pleasant, friendly and very professional. Being friendly did not stop them from asking hard questions. They were very thorough. Another thing that my depression does is to stop me talking properly. In my head the sentences are ordered and make sense. What comes out of my mouth is stilted, full of pauses, and deep breaths. I hear myself sounding like someone who is not confident, someone who’s grasp on reality is failing. Of course those are both true when I am under the black cloud but it is unnerving none the less.
I Hate Depression
I know that I have been suffering from depression for years, many years before I acknowledged that I had a problem and went to the doctor. It is my guess is that being so explains why I made bad choices when selling. What I mean is that I did not understand that with selling more I should have thought about consequences, taken advice, kept records, tracked trends.
It is right that I should pay the correct amount of tax, there is no disputing that. However, under their probing questioning (there was nothing aggressive about it) I was amazed how many times I said “I do not know”, about things that anyone who is in a good mental state would have been aware of.
I hate depression. I hate what it has done for me in the past. Also I hate the fact that I feel obliged to excuse my failings by saying “I have been diagnosed with clinical depression”.
What I hate most about depression is that last sentence. If only it was like a broken arm that everyone could see. More than that, one of the worse things about it being invisible is that I did not know I had it, until it was almost impossible for me to function.
Depression – Suicide
Depression – Suicide
I have been diagnosed with depression and apparently it is not normal to think about suicide. Who knew?
Depression is an odd animal. It creeps up on you. It was not until I ran out of work in tears that I thought that I should get help.
The history of my story may be well worth talking about for a while. I had an operation about 4 months ago. Nothing major, but it did involve having my anus explored and bits taken out for tests and bits taken out just to get rid of them. That did not bring on my depression. The not being able to go to the loo for a week did not bring on my depression. Finding out the going to the loo after a week was the single most painful thing in the world did not bring on my depression.
It was lurking there already and, looking back I think that it had been there for years.
Many years ago I wrote a blog about fishing and suicide. More properly it was a blog about going fly fishing, not catching, and talking about going home to have a couple of glasses of whiskey (Irish, of course) and a bit about suicide.
What I never knew was that other people did not think about suicide. I do not mean that I thought about how to do it, how many paracetamols, whisky (suicide by spirits has to be Scotch, Irish is to be revered, or Gin and a razor blade with a warm bath) I just thought, what would the effect be? Would anyone notice? I know that the person who found me would be upset, at least I hope so. But, could I do that to someone? I never got to the bit where the discovery and that trauma was justified. My thoughts of suicide were just pandering to a dark corner of my mind. It was not serious, at least I do not think so.
What brought my depression to the fore was the anxiety attacks. After the operation I did not want to go out. I hated having to wear pads, for a certain leakage problem. I hated feeling that I could not talk about how I was feeling, because I did not know.
More that anything was the anxiety attacks. Not being able to see friends, hiding from people in the supermarket on case they wanted to talk to me. Not being able to leave the house to go for a drink with friends because I was scared.
I went back to work, big mistake. I could not answer the phone. I could not talk to my colleagues. I sat there with a rising fear that my head was about to explode. I wanted to pick up something on my desk and throw it at someone, anyone, anything. I considered punching my PC screen. Then I cracked.
It was the best thing that happened to me.
I went to the doctor. Not my normal doctor, broke down in tears and he said “do you want a week off work? Take some Beta blockers”. It seemed like a “man up” get on with it response.
A week later I went back, saw my own doctor. I went with a list of my symptoms;
Irritability, over nothing.
being suspicious of people, what they are saying, what they may mean and how they are out to get me, taking about me behind my back.
Restlessness, just being agitated all the time.
A loss of control, I was not my own master.
loss of concentration. I was so worried about this after the operation that I bought a book of Sudoku, just to see if I could concentrate.
The inability to read books and understand what was going on, and being unable to remember plots.
Being powerless in all sorts of ways. Ignored at work, harassed at home. Not being control of how I felt.
Disturbed sleeping.
You get the idea. I only got part way through the list (there were many more items on my list) Dr McMeekin stopped me. He said you know that you are depressed don’t you? How long have you felt like this? To that I said I can not remember when I did not feel like this.
We talked. I am now on a 6 months course of a drug, Sertraline. He says that it is not addictive and should not have any withdrawal problems when it stops
I have been to a holistic practitioner for a tincture of herbs (which no way as near unpleasant that Rona said that it might be).
I have started meditating again, but it is a lot harder than I remember, another symptom of depression?
I am taking more exercise.
I have rejected CBT and talking therapies. I do not believe that they work, but perhaps this blog counts as a talking therapy.
Where am I now?
My bad days are less bad. My good days are better than they were. The number of reasonable days are increasing.
Against that I spend a lot of time thinking about “how do I feel?”
I have been open at work, talking about my mental health problems and most have been sympathetic talking about their experiences or those of their family members.
Some have, inevitably, been pricks with no understanding.
I think that I am progressing, I hope that I am.
EU Referendum – Not Project Fear, Project Reality
The EU Referendum campaign was a nasty, divisive affair. Now comes Project Reality.
They called it Project Fear, it is turning into Project reality. The Brexit campaigners won, but what has been the fallout? They said that everything that the Remain campaigners were saying were just the establishment lining up to scare the public. Really?
What has happened in the 48 hours since the EU Referendum?
So far;
- EDF are considering pulling out of Hinkley Point. Now, that may be a good or a bad thing depending on your point of view. The fact was a large infrastructure project is in doubt.
- Airbus, that employs 15,000 people in this country, say.as that it is actively reviewing its future investment. We all know what means.
- Ford, that employs 14,000 people in this country, says that it might be preparing to cut costs. We all know what means.
- The third runway for Heathrow would be killed by Boris.
- Large parts of HS2 could be stopped in its tracks.
- The pound plunged to 1980’s levels. Here comes more expensive petrol and imports.
There is more fallout from the EU Refrendum
- Tata Steel, there are now doubts about the sell offs that were going to save at least some of our jobs.
- There has been a marked increase in far right racist attacks, graffiti, and the neo nazis are cock ahoop.
- That Cameron has signaled that he is going and we will not have a PM with any credibility for 3 months. Who is running the country?
- The Blairite jackals in the PLP are lining up to oust Corbyn.
- The French want to close the camps in Calais, agreen light for the people smugglers to up there despicable business.
- The FTSE 250 has had millions swept off its value. The FTSE 250 is a far better barometer of the UK based companies rather than the FTSE 100.
- 1.2 million Brits who live in the EU now are in fear of what might happen to them.
- Scotland will seek another independence referendum. The end of the UK.
- There are calls for the re-unification of all Ireland. The end of the UK.
- HSBC have announced that they could relocate 1,500 jobs from London to Paris.
- Farage has been forced to admit that the £350m a week windfall for the NHS was just a lie.
- Danny Hammon (?), Nigel Evans (my MP) have both admitted that leaving the EU does NOT necessarily mean that immigration will fall.
The EU referendum has plunged this country in turmoil. Edmund Burke said, to paraphrase, that the views of constituents should be given due weight by their representatives. However, to give them directions that have to be obeyed strikes at the heart of our representative democracy.
Referendums can destroy representative democracy. There is a place for them. However the EU Referendum asked a far too complicated question to be answered by a simple yes or no.
God help us all.
Sponsored 10 Mile Walk, Done and Dusted!
Sponsored 10 Mile Walk for East Lancs Hospice, complete!
About 6 weeks ago I decided to raise money for the East Lancs Hospice, a very worthy cause. The hospice needs to raise £3m a year to keep going and so anything that I could to help, however little, would be worthwhile. The next event was a sponsored 10 mile walk and I signed up for it.
There are some friends who thought that I was joking when I told them. After all, I was a smoker, liked a drink and did not do a lot of walking. I did go into training, I walked to the pub a couple of times, did a couple of 5 mile walks. Walking to and from the pub was fine but the 5 mile walks were not. My knees are not good and after each walk they hurt.
So I approached this sponsored 10 mile walk with some trepidation today. I was buoyed by the fact that some 200 other people were there. Diane had noticed that there were 10 pubs on the route and suggested that I saw the number of pubs before seeing the number of miles. Cheek!
The day was well organised and just 10 minutes late ( the Mayoress of the Ribble Valley needed her photo op and to make an inaudible speech) and we were off. I was towards the back of this motley group of the old and young (some very old and some pretty young) and a very motley group of dogs, big, small, well groomed and some not so well groomed.
As the walk went on I moved up towards the front, not because I was walking quickly, just that everyone with dogs had at some point to stop to search for their doggy poop bags and the others were strolling. Anyway after 5 miles I did not dive into one of the official pubs, as everyone else seem to. That was not because I did not want to, you understand, rather I know that if I sit down my knee would not like the straighten again and would protest, vigorously.
So I walked on, and on, and on. The second 5 miles was definitely longer than the first 5 miles. I covered the first 5 in one and a half hours, much to my surprise. The pace seemed to suit my knee which was behaving itself and not hurting too much.
The beautiful countryside helped divert my mind from my knee but even that began to lose its effect as I began willing the last signpost, and home, to come into sight. After what seemed and age I arrived at the destination. 10 miles in 3 hours 5 minutes, very respectable. My decision not to stop after 5 miles was proved to be the right one because as soon as I sat down at the end of the walk (pint in hand) my knee seized up and started to throb. To be honest, it did not, does not, hurt as much as I expected and as I sit here I can easily see myself doing this sponsored 10 mile walk for East Lancs Hopsice again next year!
However,there is no need to wait until next year to give money to this great cause, just follow this link to my Just Giving page. You know it is the right thing to do!
Phil’s British Heart Foundation Donation – you know it makes sense
