96. Feel the Fear… yep, that one

I know, I know, I know – it’s been a ridiculously long time since my last blog and the whole thing about the Atrial Fibrillation creeping back again. So here we go. This is a blog of many hues.

Firstly, an update on the AF situation.

Coffee definitely brings on an episode, so that’s out the window. Even one, occasionally.

Being extra-tired – ditto. That one’s not so easy to manage with all the wee birdies (and bloody great seagulls) around here. This is how it goes: a loudmouthed insomniac seagull starts a low, noisy territorial fly-by that takes in frequent passes of our bedroom window shortly before dawn. Backwards and forwards, again and again. This wakes up the insanely screechy fledgling seagull currently trying to escape from his snuggly nest on the roof several houses down – I’m praying for those feathers to grow, I can tell you – which wakes up the flock of thirty-odd sparrows that seem to sleep in the bushes RIGHT outside our bedroom window. And so it goes on. By the time the cacophony has calmed down and they’ve got breakfast sorted it’s almost too close to getting-up time anyway to try getting back to sleep. Yaaawwn. But dawn is creeping forwards (sob) so I live in hope of more sleep.

Stress definitely brings on an episode. If more than a couple of busy, adrenaline-fuelled days filled with busy-ness pass without doing some deep relaxation I can feel the old heart starting to thump that bit harder. I use this Yoga Nidra, which is incredibly powerful.

And now a bit of good news. As you know, I’m trying to sort the AF out without resorting to drugs that have horrible side effects (I fall over) or having the misbehaving cells of my heart burnt away with a white-hot electrode (not at all happy about that bit). So imagine how overjoyed I was to hear of an NHS doctor who has managed to heal himself of AF. I might be the last one to the party on this as Dr Rupy Aujla is all over the television as well as having two books out, doing masses of cooking himself, oh, and doing a sterling job in the NHS as a GP. Thank you Darrelyn Gunzburg for the heads-up on that. It is so comforting – nay, amazing – to find someone inside the NHS who feels the same way as I do about finding natural solutions, who has cured his own AF, and even better, is setting about educating the medical profession about the importance of real food as the path to good health. A huge hurrah to that!  The link to his books is here if you’re interested.

With all the focus on the AF, and seeing how long I can go without an episode, and cutting out coffee and squeezing in Yoga Nodra, life seems to have been a bit intense recently. Also, summer has been busy in sunny Swanage, and in the last few months we have packed a lot in, with little time for the precious relaxation I apparently need to stay well. So when Steven Malone of H2OAdventures called asking me if I’d like some kayaking classes to help him progress to his British Canoeing Sea Kayak Coach Award, I was on it like a thirsty dog to a bowl of water. A chance to get out on the water, in beautiful Swanage Bay? Yes per-lease! Okay, so my day is already a tad busy with the day-job, dancing classes once a week, gig rowing whenever we can actually get down there, Nordic Walking, spending time with visiting relatives, updating the 1970s interior of our home, keeping the garden at bay and trying to swim in the sea every day to help lower my blood pressure. But ever one to stretch the time available by starting the day earlier, I met Steven down at Swanage Boat Park for my first session on Tuesday at 8.00. Fortunately I’m at home with wading straight into the sea now, as that’s what I had to do to launch the kayak, after learning how to set it up so it’s actually comfortable and safe. What I didn’t expect was what turned out to be quite a tough work out at that time in the morning – mentally and physically. I guess it’s always the same with a new activity: there’s no muscle memory to help you and being taken out of my usual comfort zone – although I did a couple of taster sessions with Steven last summer – was certainly mentally demanding too. Wow. I was tired after that one, but still managed to do a lot of typesetting for the next Wessex title. Yay.

The sessions are progressive, so this morning with a moderately strong wind making me work that bit harder, Steven followed up on the skills I learnt on Tuesday, but pushed me further again, working towards the point where I can eventually paddle out to Old Harry Rocks, at the edge of the Bay. Which TBH feels quite some way away ATM. Being on the water is beautiful, and I’m enjoying it more as my confidence increases, but what has really shocked me is how cautious I am. Paddling in a straight-ish line is fun and relatively easy but can obviously be massively improved upon. Learning to turn on the spot was also fun if exhausting. Paddling sideways was pretty much beyond me at first but fortunately I have a patient coach :-) A coach who took videos for me to watch back to see just how tentative I am. FFS woman, stop tickling the water and get on with it! (My comments not his.) Note the bored fisherman in the background.

I’m fully aware that to be safe on the water I need to be able to cope with capsizing (not looking forward to that At All), and no, I didn’t do that today, but one of the skills I need to learn is how to avert said crisis should it seem likely. And I don’t mean, ‘Oh look there’s a bit of a wave coming, I should get ready’. No. Practising means (deliberately) tipping the kayak as far as possible over onto one side to the point where it seems – from my perspective – very likely it’s going only one way. And at that exact moment executing the correct move to save myself; and then doing it again and again and again until it becomes muscle memory so it would happen on reflex should the need arise. And that’s where the fear kicked in. It really shouldn’t be a problem. I’m a strong swimmer, I love the sea, we were practising in shallow waters, I had somebody right next to me to rescue me should it all go horribly wrong. But still, this huge lump of fear rose up from my stomach and practically reduced me to tears at the thought of being trapped upside down in the kayak. Okay it did.

Steven was really patient and I did practise over and over again, but as we paddled back to the boat park my thoughts returned to something I’ve often discussed on the blog; the way that encountering the raw power of the elements can reduce us to our smallest and most humble selves. Whether it is to tears at the beauty, the sound, the glorious scent of nature, or fear in the presence of something so much more powerful than ourselves; today, for me, it was almost the stuff of nightmares, but then I remembered that in nature we get the chance to strengthen our resolve and experience an outward expression of our innermost fears. And that the internal battles we all face, like lack of confidence, fear of asserting ourselves, all those situations where we wish we’d been strong – out here, on a choppy sea, we get the chance to rehearse being strong. Over and over and over again. Until we are.

With much love and wishes for your good health

Mxxxx

 

 

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95. A Sobering Thought

This one’s been a long time coming, and I’ve been thinking hard about whether to open up about another medical facet of my life that’s been a problem of late, or even to start a whole new blog on the subject. I guess it makes a pleasant change from cancer, although certainly the resilience I gathered from that particular experience is helping me with this one. Sort of.

If you read any of the chemo blogs back in 2013 you would have seen that I was struggling with atrial fibrillation (hereafter AF) in the period leading up to diagnosis and certainly during treatment. Aside from the general hilarity (from me) and panic (from the nurses when their observation equipment went off the scale), it is actually scary and debilitating in the extreme and ultimately very depressing as, never knowing when an episode is going to manifest, it’s impossible to plan activities with any degree of certainty. AF happens when there is an interruption in the electrical impulses going to the heart causing it to beat irregularly (arrhythmia) or extra fast (tachycardia). This can last for a few seconds, minutes or hours. It can also last days, as with me, and for some poor souls it can be almost permanent. I don’t want to even think how they are managing to live a normal life.

This time six years ago I was about to go through a stem cell transplant, which had a high chance of curing the lymphoma and also a reasonable risk of killing me if the new cells didn’t engraft. Thankfully they did – communal sigh of relief on the ward – and I survived, and a massive and very unexpected benefit of going through that whole shooting match was that the AF completely cleared up. Yay! I was a very happy if very underweight bunny at that point. And now I’m normal size and very healthy, apart from the annoying fact that the AF has crept back and has reached a deafening volume where it needs to be dealt with, as I lose a couple of days of normal life each time it happens, and it’s now coming every couple of weeks. Aaaargh.

Whilst AF in itself won’t kill anyone, it is deeply unpleasant and the main problem is that the chambers in the heart contract out of rhythm with each other which can lead to clots developing, which in turn can cause strokes or heart attacks. So obviously it needs sorting out. The theories behind why it happens are many and varied, and much like in my quest to understand lymphoma, I am leaving no stone unturned in my efforts to sort this out for myself. The medical options include drugs I would prefer not to take as well as ablation, which involves inserting a tiny wire into the heart to burn or freeze the parts that are beating irregularly. That seems a bit extreme. Aren’t there more natural solutions? Possibly, and discovering one or several that work is my Holy Grail.

There are obvious and well researched causes of over-stimulation to one’s nervous system that include caffeine, alcohol, stress, and hypertension, which do apply to me, as well as a load that don’t – prescription drugs, diabetes – the list goes on. There is also another fascinating and much more subtle level to this (which doesn’t pop up on the regular websites) involving vagal tone. The vagus nerve comes out of the base of the neck and is massively important in the general running of Operation Human Body, especially considering not a lot of people seem to know about it. I’m not going much deeper here because I’d like to still have a few readers left at the end of the blog, but suffice to say it is deeply involved in the sympathetic and parasympathetic responses in the body – the way we deal with stress (ooh yes, that biggie) and so other aspects of life in general that you seriously would not believe it.

So in amongst all this plethora of facts, I’m working my way through anything that can help. Giving up coffee and wine, obviously. Waaaaaaait. Coffee, yes. Actually I managed that with very few tears (or headaches) but wine. Really? How about our beautiful sunny Chardonnay bench that we retreat to at the end of a hard day’s work. Or gardening. Or decorating. Or because it was a difficult day, or a celebration, or a Friday. Yep. It took an extremely bad episode of AF to make me see that this had to go too. I had been doing everything I could to sort out the vagus nerve as a possible cause, including meditation and yoga nidra every day, breathing exercises involving a longer ‘out’ breath, osteopathy… camomile tea, hawthorn drops, homoeopathy, visualisation, literally everything, and then this extra bad bout felt like the Universe smacked me over the head really hard and said ‘IF YOU WON’T LISTEN TO ME I’M GOING TO MAKE YOU SO ILL YOU WILL HAVE NO CHOICE. GIVE UP THE WINE.’

So I did, and I wish I could say it’s solved the problem. It has, sort of, in that I went two weeks with no coffee or wine and was rejoicing at how well I was feeling, then woke up in the early hours with that familiar thud. Disheartened doesn’t even begin to touch it, but the episode was thankfully over in literally a few hours which was a marked improvement. My disappointment was such, though, that as that weekend coincided with us being in beautiful Swanage for a year I sulkily decided to let rip and have a few glasses of wine to celebrate, because abstaining hadn’t stopped the AF. Yes, we celebrated, but then I suffered two days later with another crushingly depressing episode of AF.

So that’s where I was at last weekend, and this time I’m really fed up enough to go the whole hog for as long as it takes to crack it. I want to be able to dance, Nordic walk, go sea rowing, run, swim, and book trips with friends without having to cancel because I’m ill. How can I live life with a post-cancer sense of exhuberation when I’m floored every few weeks with a jumpy heart? So there will no wine, coffee, or stimulants of any kind and every day is filled with calm-me-down meditations and the lovely yoga nidra relaxation, vats of hibiscus tea, camomile tea, cups of organic chicory plus other vits and herbs that are good for the heart…. which does actually make me realise how hyped up I am a lot of the time. It’s not surprising my body has had to shout very loud to make me listen. Maybe, just maybe, I’m finally paying attention.

And here’s a calming picture of our Buddha statue by our pond-in-progress to send you on your way.

Wishing you all good health and no thumpy hearts.

Margaret xx

 

 

 

 

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94. Talking of Death

The totally brilliant and unexpected gift that came from having cancer is that it’s given me a completely new perspective on life – and it continues to open up whole areas of no-holds-barred conversation that other people probably wouldn’t even think of having. It’s also awakened an exceedingly dark sense of humour, but if you’re a regular reader of the blog you’ll have gathered that by now.

Here’s a case in point. In recent weeks we’ve been playing around with ideas for our new garden. New to us, that is. There are actually a load of plants and bulbs already well established here, thank you very much, but delightful as they are, we can’t resist trying to squeeze in the odd plant here and there, just to make it a bit more ours. We’re also digging out space for a wildlife pond – yay! We’ve been happily browsing online and through catalogues, amassing a huge wish list – most of which we definitely don’t have room for – and learning an awful lot in the process. This small fact had never registered with me before (and yes, I have had a garden before), but some plants clearly take a lot longer to get going than others. Stephen was finding plants like the beautiful wedding cake tree (see pic below), which takes literally years to mature, while I was getting excited about a very aggressive and highly scented honeysuckle that will look and smell amazing in about 3 months time. He’d love to get some bulbs for next year, while I’m all for some primulas I can whack in a pot now to pretty up the space around my Buddha statue.

Image 1

After several days of this it became clear we had different agendas. During a joint browse online he was gently teasing me for my lack of patience, and for wanting everything to flower now, rather than wait a year or so for the plant to mature or the bulbs to settle in. I was pretty much renowned as a kid for wanting everything now, TBH, but it has recently taken on whole new meaning. Yes, I’m happily in remission (for which I am truly grateful on a daily basis), but having faced the real possibility of death, there is a growing and very fundamental need in me to live every second with awareness; this moment now, this moment now. Clearly my mindfulness practice is beginning to pay off – and I said as much to Stephen – but more than that, it’s that I want to experience the beauty of these plants sooner rather than later, because I don’t know how l long I have left. None of us do. I don’t mean this in a maudlin sense, in fact it’s quite the opposite. It’s about rejoicing in the things I, personally, can see, smell, hear, touch and taste at this moment in time, rather than living for what might be at some point in the future. Obviously there is a need to plant for future generations, and for some that may be more important, and it’s definitely a noble cause, but it’s not the point just now. In the moment before I said all this to Stephen, I could suddenly see everything so clearly, and bringing it out into the light felt so good and so honest. Not your average conversation then. Many thanks to the lovely Judy Hall for encouraging me to share it on here.

This was followed by another slightly unusual conversation, prompted by articles on the recent deaths from cancer of some high profile people in the media. All of them wanted to make it as easy and painless as possible for their partner to sort out their affairs when they had passed over, and it occurred to me that just about everything to do with the mechanics of my life is in my head, or written in really weird places that only I know about. So I’m creating a little book called ‘All About Me’ so that whenever I shuffle off this mortal coil there will be an easy way for the person left behind to sort out my affairs. In a bizarre way I’m looking forward to finding the right kind of notebook and presenting it in a fun way rather than just a boring list of websites, passwords and pin numbers – as that’s basically what our lives are reduced to when we’re gone, isn’t it? Is this morbid? Not in the least. It will be a big weight off my mind and also a rather good reference book for me in case I ever need it :-)

I want to leave you with some words from the lovely Thich Nhat Hanh, who has returned to Vietnam to live out his remaining days at the Tu Hiue Temple. Yes, more death, but not quite yet as apparently Thay is still very much alive. I absolutely loved this. In a recent interview with Eliza Barclay, Senior Monk Brother Phap Dung, relayed that Thay had instructed him thus:

“Please do not build a stupa (shrine) for me. Please do not put my ashes in a vase, lock me inside and limit who I am. I know this will be difficult for some of you.

If you must build a stupa though, please make sure that you put a sign on it that says, ‘I am not in here.’ In addition, you can also put another sign that says, ‘I am not out there either,’ and a third sign that says, ‘If I am anywhere, it is in your mindful breathing and in your peaceful steps.’

Isn’t that beautiful?

Wishing you good health

Margaret

 

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Exciting news

Today is a really special day for me – I just heard that my novel, It Could Only Happen At Sea, has won a Red Ribbon Award in the Wishing Shelf Book Awards. You might be wondering what that means and why the hell I’m so excited. Well for me it was a giant leap into a new genre. My first book Under Cover of Darkness was all about the lymphoma experience, and being able to pour out my innermost feelings on this blog was absolutely a life saver for me at the time. I was pleased to have the first book out, but the writing bug has me well and truly in its grasp now; so for my first novel I wanted to try Women’s Fiction, AKA ‘chick lit’ which I hate but it does what it says on the tin. My absolute icons in this department are Jojo Moyes, Lindsey Kelk, Milly Johnson, so think fun novel that has a deeper subtext… So when I sent Caitlin and James off on a cruise around the Med I knew that apart from having them drink bucket loads of chardonnay and merlot (aw come on – they’re on holiday…) I could embrace some topics very close to my heart – emotional abuse (been there, done that) and the issues faced by a very dear friend in relation to his sexuality. It was an adventure for me just as much as it was for them, and it was also very cathartic – plus I really had no idea where it would end up. It was all a bit scary unleashing something like this on the world, but I did get some really nice reviews, and now winning this Red Ribbon Award is absolutely the icing on the cake. I had some beautiful comments:

‘The abusive relationship the character suffered is an important issue, cleverly disguised in this travel story.’

‘There’s plenty of comic moments interspersed with deeper, thoughtful dialogue between the two central characters. This is very much a character-led story. The cover is light and breezy too.’

‘This book sort of made me want to jump on a ship and enjoy the Med. A light, cheery read. Enjoyed it.’

‘There’s plenty of comic moments interspersed with deeper, thoughtful dialogue between the two central characters. This is very much a character-led story. The cover is light and breezy too.’

It feels very weird blowing my own trumpet, but this has really encouraged me to take up my pen again and go for the sequel the readers say they want. Oh yes indeedy, I’m back :-)

Wishing you all good health,

Margaretxx

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93. Always Read the Label

I’ve written literally loads of blogs between 1st November (the last proper one you see up here) and today (31st January), but the trouble is they’ve all been in my head. Events seem to move so swiftly that we’re onto the next thing before I know it, and those precious thoughts have flown and I’m having another ‘Ooh look!’ moment in another direction, which is deeply ironic considering how mindfulness is such a big theme in my life. I suppose a positive take on that would be that at least I’m actually noticing that I’ve gone off track – but maybe I didn’t need to write about that stuff anyway. Whatever it was. But the whole thing got me thinking about why I started the blog, and why – exactly – I continue with it. Winding back the clock to January 2013, you would find me close to the beginning of this crazy journey – Blog #6 in fact – where I was trying to understand how to survive in the alien and terrifying place I had been thrown into. I opened with this quote from the Sufi poet Kabir:

The way of love is not

A subtle argument.

The door there is devastation.

Birds make great sky-circles of their freedom.

How do they learn it?

They fall, and falling,

They’re given wings.

Because what I was learning, aided and abetted by my dearest Swami Ambikananda, was that at the moment of my diagnosis I’d effectively been thrown off a cliff and was having to learn how to fly very, very quickly. For me, personally, that meant gathering as much information about the disease as possible, followed pretty rapidly by leaving no stone unturned in my quest to explore each and every avenue of nutritional and therapeutic support available.

That’s the way my mind works – get as deep and scary and awful as possible, throw it out in the light for a good bit of examination and discussion,  then you have the tools to fashion some kind of plan. For me, knowledge is power, and in a treatment regime where I was completely disempowered, that was vital. Six cycles of very aggressive chemo and a stem cell transplant focused my mind wonderfully, and as my poor body began to struggle with the chemical onslaught I became totally fixated on what I was putting into it, and how I could best help it to survive. Now, I appreciate that not everyone feels the same way; judging by a couple of reviews of my book, some readers found that a very odd approach, and a haematology consultant who was himself suffering from Mantle Cell Lymphoma thought I was completely nuts to even be considering that nutrition and supplements could play a part in my survival. Each to their own, I guess, but learning a lot more about where our food comes from has been a massive part of this journey, and it’s certainly given me a fair few soapboxes to drag out should the moment arise. And those moments do arise quite a lot, actually, which I realised is part of the reason I keep the blog going. That plus the lovely people who check up on me if I don’t post for a while. To them I say a big ‘thank you’ for caring, and yes, I’m fine :-)

Due to recent and ongoing conversations with friends/family/readers of the blog/people in the health food shop/our Nordic Walking family I’ve decided to drag those soapboxes out for a bit of an airing and stack them neatly together in one place. This blog is #93, and I can pretty much guarantee that at least 75% of my blogs have some kind of discussion about food/drugs/ways of staying or getting well in them, but it’s not a lot of use if that information is scattered all over the place when people ask me how I survived chemo, and how I live now. Which they do. Whenever I see the blog stats rocket I’m grateful that someone is reading the blog, but I’m also sad that it usually means they have just had a diagnosis and that I’ll soon be getting an email. But hopefully if this blog suddenly rockets, it will mean that people are reading because they’re interested in what they eat.

Let’s think about that for a moment.

Being interested in what you eat means more than liking the taste and wondering how many calories it has. Being interested in what you eat surely means having some idea where your food actually comes from and what processes it went through to get there. Here we go. 1st soapbox and it’s a nice big one. My forays into exploring exactly what I’m eating have led me down some very dark alleyways indeed, and I am shocked at the way we are manipulated by the food industry. And a massively ironic thought occurred to me when I couldn’t sleep about 5 a.m this morning (and yes – I know some of you are already up then. I wasn’t). When we get a prescription from the pharmacy, it has in prominent letters somewhere on that box ‘Read enclosed instruction leaflet before use.’ Hmm. So we’re happy to read a long list of ingredients we don’t understand, dosage (obviously) and the (probably) very long list of side effects, but do we actually pay the same attention to our food choices? I’m hypoglycaemic (as opposed to diabetic), which means I have to be extremely careful about eating sugar and sugar substitutes, and in conversation the other day somebody mentioned that I must have to read a lot of labels when I go shopping. Hell, yes! Am I the only one? If you want to enjoy a good bit of fiction at the same time as dreary food shopping compare the ingredients on the back with what the food is supposed to be according to the flashy label on the front. I loved a particular meme on Facebook which I shared the socks off because I totally agree with it:

For low sugar/low fat, read ‘chemical shit storm’

Because if the food companies who insist they have our best interests at heart are taking out the sugar and fat we’ve been brainwashed to think we should avoid, WHAT ARE THEY PUTTING IN INSTEAD? You’d think that a low/no sugar product would be of interest to me due to the blood sugar issue, but having no sugar doesn’t mean it’s not sweet or that it’s better for you. Nope. Substitute sweeteners are up to 25 times sweeter than sugar which explains why people using them as part of a diet are outrageously hungry about twenty minutes after eating/drinking such a product. So they need to eat something else, which will almost certainly have the same ingredients in it, then they get hungry again and the vicious circle is well and truly up and spinning, and they never lose weight. I’m not making this up. Enough people have talked to me about this that I know it’s the case, plus on the very odd occasion that I’ve unwittingly eaten something containing glucose fructose syrup/rice syrup/artificial sweeteners, I’ve had the same experience. And don’t even get me started on aspartame, which has been shown to be carcinogenic but is added to certain medication to make it more palatable. Oooh, and probably a bit hungry. And then when I tell said people this small fact they ask what they’re supposed to do, and I possibly somewhat harshly respond that it’s not rocket science. Same as I had to do all those years ago once I realised I had a sugar problem. Ditch the sugar, don’t use substitutes and re-educate your palette so you don’t need sweet stuff. Trust me, it will change your life and you’ll rediscover what your taste buds are for.

In the early blogs covering my visits to hospital, I relayed how the lovely Dot (who had to go on literally loads of courses on food management in a hospital environment) brought in every single breakfast option for me so we could read the labels to check the contents, and she was horrified at what she found. So she’d learnt that rice has to be scorching hot in order not to accumulate dangerous bacteria (yes, that’s both true and sensible), but she hadn’t been told that cancer patients should avoid sugar, and neither was she aware that every single option except the sachets of porridge contained sugar or a sweetener in some form. There was much tutting and head-shaking at that little discovery. Before I skip over to the next soapbox I just wanted to impart this little bit of wisdom for sufferers of cystitis (and yes I get asked about that too). We know that cranberry juice is good for getting rid of the bugs in the bladder that cause this horrible and extremely debilitating condition. However, those bugs thrive on sugar. And guess what the shelves are filled with in the average supermarket? Cranberry juice ‘drink’ which has which ingredient? Picture ROFL emoticon here. Yes, sugar. They are seriously joking. Likewise yoghurt is also very good to encourage a healthy gut, or to help return a compromised one to a better state. And by that I mean live, bio, organic, full fat yoghurt, because any other ingredient suggests it isn’t actually proper yoghurt, doesn’t it? I think it’s true to say that the food demonstrators in the supermarket aisle don’t make eye contact with me any more.

By the way, I’m really not making this stuff up. You need to read Karl Elliot-Gough’s book The Seven Deadly Whites to discover exactly what goes on in the food industry. It’s a scary and challenging read, but it’s also the sort of book you’ll be glad you read because it is a real eye-opener, and you won’t ever look at food the same way again. While you’re at it, you could also order a copy of Dr. Steven Gundry’s Plant Paradox, which also makes very informative reading.

I didn’t used to be this grumpy about food – honestly. Before I was ill I was interested, but quite a bit more relaxed about it, although I did get seriously cross when I tried to buy a ready meal (this was a loooong time ago!) after a trip to the gym and the only item I could find that didn’t contain genetically modified ingredients was mushroom rice. They absolutely definitely got a letter (this was before emails – yes, that long ago). In fact this was shortly after the row over mechanically recovered meat and BSE that revealed all sorts of stuff was going into the food chain that shouldn’t. Nuff said on that one for now.

Probably the final, motivating factor in getting me to actually complete a blog after literally three months of non-starters (and the newest soapbox in the collection), is the recent trend towards veganism, which in my humble opinion has been totally hijacked by companies who have an awful lot of money to make from selling new products to an unsuspecting public. You could almost see them rubbing their hands in glee. When my body decided to go veggie – and yes, it literally did in the space of about 12 hours with no encouragement from me – a few years ago, it created a real problem. As someone who up to that point was eating meat on an almost daily basis, I didn’t really have much idea what to eat in its place. Something I did know, with my post-chemo awareness, was that I didn’t want a meat replacement to sit neatly between the potatoes and the veggies. I’d already read those labels a while back, and with products ranging from the ‘pseudo mince’ right up to the veggie escalope and sausage selection (none of which are exactly cheap), there was barely a single one that had words I recognised in the description. Words you don’t recognise, or end in –ose, or can’t pronounce in the list of ingredients probably don’t belong in our food. Just sayin’. The raw ingredients are there, lovely people. If you want to be veggie or vegan it’s perfectly possible to do so with lovely, natural ingredients. I’m currently amassing more recipes over on my ‘Lovely Recipes’ page if you’re interested.

It’s been a long blog, but I just want to share one more thing with anyone still awake out there. In these challenging times of fake news and dubious motivation it’s sometimes hard to know where to turn or what to believe. If you want a massive but ultimately positive dose of reality as viewed from the sharp end of farming, do yourself a favour and get a copy of Wilding by Isabella Tree.

She is an extraordinarily articulate and passionate woman, who with her husband inherited a farm on the Knepp Estate in Sussex that had failed due to the soil being over-treated with pesticides and fertilisers. Hers is an astonishing and deeply detailed tale of EU quotas aimed at over-producing highly treated grain (which is sold to farmers to fatten their cattle ready for public consumption). It’s a tale of rules, intransigent committees, exhausted soil, and apparently no way out of a desperate situation. However, they did find a way out, and returning their land to nature against much advice and opposition has resulted in it becoming a world class example of what happens when you leave nature to heal itself. In the words of Chris Packham: “A poignant, practical and moving story of how to fix our broken land, this should be conservation’s salvation: this is new hope.”

So that’s it for now folks. Wishing you good health and lots of fun reading those labels,

Margaret

 

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Bring me Sunshine…

Fancy a break, but you can’t get away just now? Grab a copy of my book (on special offer in the Kindle store) and indulge yourself in a virtual holiday on a beautiful ship as she travels around the Med. Feel that sun on your face. Aaaahhh…

“James leads me up the maze of outside stairways he discovered on his wanderings, until we are virtually at the top of the ship, where there’s a terrace of completely unoccupied sun loungers. Bliss. I spend the afternoon reading then sleeping then
reading again until I’m so hot I have to go down all those stairs to the middle pool for a swim…”

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92. The Calm Port in a Storm Please?

Today started out beautifully then took a strange turn towards the disruptive, then the very unpleasant. Was it a wrong turn or was it (yet) another exercise in being in the moment? If so, I’m neither impressed nor amused. I clearly have a lot to learn in that department then, even after all this practice.

I was happily sitting at my desk contemplating the shadows cast by the clouds onto the breathtakingly beautiful Purbeck Hills opposite, when a guy in a hi-vis jacket walked across our path wielding what can only be described as a giant candle snuffer. Okayyyyy. This clearly needed investigating, so I went out to greet him. It turned out that a water leak had been reported by someone whose job it is to gaze at water meters, so he was checking out all the mains pipes in the area. It got even more interesting when he asked to come onto our property and check the water stopcock. Having no idea at all where it is, I said of course he could, and followed him round the back of our home to find out where it is exactly, as he appeared to know. Having located the outside tap, he carefully balanced the long pipe on the metal and put the candle snuffer to his ear and listened. Aaah. So that’s how they do it. Then he lifted a small metal cover in the paving slab which revealed the pipe where the mains water comes in ( I know we should know this stuff, but we don’t – well, we do now), and did the same thing there, muttering thoughtfully to himself that there was a bit of noise but this wasn’t the right place. Seeing him on his way I joked that he might need his water divining rods, but I really don’t think he got it.

Gosh. What a thrilling start to the day. Haha. Waterman had just left the premises when the bin lorry turned up, followed immediately by two Scottish and Southern Electricity vans, one of which was towing a mini bulldozer. Life is just so exciting here. There was a bit of a clash and some tooting of horns as the three vehicles jockeyed for space in a tight cul-de-sac, but eventually the bin lorry vacated the area and the electricity guys settled themselves into comfy parking spots then spread out like a SWAT team across the surrounding properties. To be honest, I wasn’t 100% concentrating on work at this point as it was all unfolding right under my nose. There’s a definite downside to having lots of windows in my office. Eventually it was our turn, and they descended on us like black t-shirted flies saying they needed to investigate the underground cabling as one of the neighbouring properties was without power. Oh, go on then.

That bit of investigating revealed that the power cable probably running right under our newly planted acer was the culprit, so Team Leader asked if they could very carefully dig a hole to investigate further. Which sort of begs the question as to what they would have done if we weren’t here. Just dug it all up anyway? I wonder. Moving on. This is where it got a bit more interesting (seriously) as now they had to drive the digger across the lawn to dig the hole near our precious acer. Noooooooooo! How can you ‘very carefully dig a hole’ with a digger?! The drama was somewhat relieved by the jolly electricity man who was driving the digger. Now, I know I’m guilty of wandering around singing random lines from a song, and very often the wrong lyrics (which used to drive my son Matt INSANE), but you don’t often find a man doing the same thing. Digger Man carefully negotiated our car and trundled across the lawn, all the while singing ‘Ding, Dong, Merrily on High’ with a big smile on his face. Actually I had to hide my manic laughter at that point. The digger ended up about 3 feet from my office window. Here’s the picture to prove it.

Digger

Turns out that part of the cabling wasn’t the problem, so Team Leader said they needed to go further round the back and could they please dig a whacking great hole in the ground just by the washing line? Which was hung with freshly washed laundry. Fabulous. Washing safely retrieved, they set about digging an even bigger hole – presumably because there was no acer to consider – and at this point I definitely heard ‘You’re the one that I want, oh honey, oh, oh, oh’ coming from Digger Man.

Fortunately this particular hole yielded more treasure in the form of the damaged cable, which they duly fixed. Except that another entity has to come out to replace the paving slabs. At least while we wait we have a lot of cones to admire.

Cones

The digger was loaded back on the trailer to the strains of ‘Sweet Caroline’, and Stephen and I looked forward to finally getting a bit of work done. Looking back it was actually quite funny, but given how hard it is to get someone out to look at a problem on your property, it was actually very disruptive to have two van loads of men turn up to sort out a problem you didn’t even know you had. Well actually we didn’t have it – the bloke next door did – and as soon as it was fixed the unmistakable aroma of cooked bacon wafted through our kitchen window. Poor guy. He goes swimming in the sea at 6 o’clock  every morning without fail, and he always does himself at the very least a bacon sarnie as a reward. Imagine that – coming back from freezing your nuts off to find the electricity is out. My heart goes out to him.

Does it finish there? Not it does not. Our beautiful, crazy cat Rowan has been missing since June 3rd, and in amongst trying to actually get some work done, I try to post regularly on relevant Missing Pets Facebook pages to keep in her in people’s minds. We are keeping the hope alive that she is still out there somewhere simply because we can’t contemplate anything else. Posting about her is always upsetting as we miss her like crazy and I hate stirring it up, but as I’m on social media a lot anyway for business it’s become another task I add to the to-do list.

What I didn’t expect and was in no way prepared for was a truly horrific post that came up once I got onto my Facebook feed. I’m not sharing the details here as I don’t want you to be as upset as I have been since I saw it, but I was shocked to my core that not only would someone do such a thing, but that they would take a picture of it. How sick have we become? I kept it hidden for hours and hours and eventually cried all over Stephen as it exploded beyond my control.

Regular readers of the blog will know how Mindfulness helped me through the darkest hours of my treatment for lymphoma, and that I have used it ever since as a constant support – but how do I cope when every moment, every ‘now’, is filled with this image? I’ve been battling with it all afternoon and all evening, and now, as I struggle to find a conclusion to the blog, and a resolution to my feelings, I recall the words of lovely French Monk from my favourite blog of all time – #64 – that all I can do is be present with my feeling of heartbreak and revulsion. I can’t help the victim and I can’t condemn the perpetrator to an eternity of similar treatment, much as I would love to. French Monk said that if we deny something it gains in strength, so the only way is to be with it so it loses its power. So that’s what I’m doing. A very unusual blog for me, about something that has rocked me to my core, but I had to let you know that this is a long journey, and I’m not there yet.

Sending much love to you

Margaret

 

 

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