ME and me

Something to talk about

2011-12-15T22:53:00.001Z

Time has been passing in my ME way. Foggy days, blurry vision, lost threads of thought. Then, in the way of ME, a period of being relatively better appears, and it's time to think things through. Then, a nudge from an unlikely source, the Mark Wright chat prog on Channel 5. I'd never heard of this entertainment until he caused a furor in Scotland with what were seen as callous, if not border-line racist, comments about a murder in Lewis.

Mr Wright redeemed himself with a recent discussion of ME, in which he appeared to be genuinely shocked to learn how debilitating our condition is. Callers to the programme gave factual accounts of the devastation ME causes to lives, and both the programme's participants and the audience were clearly appalled by what they learned.

Here's a link: http://www.channel5.com/shows/the-wright-stuff/episodes/episode-239-15

It's well worth a look.

Happy Yorkshire Day!

2011-08-01T09:36:00.006+01:00

Have a great day, Tykes everywhere!

Yorkshire Day

Hens, Zen, Yorkshire Puddings and Tradition

2011-07-14T22:04:00.007+01:00

Regular readers will know that I think everyone who can should keep chickens. A world full of poultry keepers would be a less stressed, more caring, more insightful and more compassionate one. Hens teach responsibility, they reward care with their gifts of eggs, their lives are a demonstration of the virtues of societal living. Every visitor to my home is enchanted by my little flock, everyone feels the tug towards a way of a life that is more simple and comprehensible. The routine tasks of caring for the birds provide an opportunity to meditate. The weeds from the garden go to the hens. The hens consume them. I collect eggs, then take the litter from the hen run to use on my vegetable garden. Surplus vegetables go to the hens, more eggs, more nourishment for my garden comes from them. A circle is established, I have my place, the hens have theirs, the garden its. We live in sybiosis, in a circle - Zen symbol. Repititious simple work, deeply symbolic, highly productive is the key. Fulfillment comes from a basket of eggs, a bowl of home grown salad, a vase of freshly cut flowers, a healthy happy flock of hens, bright of eye, shiny-feathered, red-combed. Hens alone cannot be Zen, they are fully occupied in being hens. But we can participate in, observe and learn from the system that contains them and so become Zen ourselves.

Those who keep hens become wise in the ways of egg-based cuisine. One of the nobler uses of an egg is what I call a batter pudding, but those not fortunate enough to be from Yorkshire call a Yorkhire pudding. Like all true Tykes, I learnt the art of creating this handy, delicious and nutritious food at my mother's knee. I realised with slight suprise today that YP making is the last thing I still do in Imperial Units, not metric, following the family tradition and recipe. 4 oz plain flour, 1/2 a UK pint of milk, a teaspoon of salt, a good big egg. Two tricks - make your batter at least an hour before you need it in the oven. Beat it up every 15 mins, keep it in the fridge. Result - no lumps. Secondly, you need your oven as hot as the deepest depths of Hell - turn it all the way up. Preheat your tin with oil in it until it is smoking, Pour the batter in, get it in the oven with the door shut ASAP, and reckon on 45 mins cooking time, though it might vary a little. The new silicon bakeware is great for YPs, but its's floppy, and potentially dangerous, so stand your silicon ware in/on a metal tray to make it stable.

Eat your puds with roast meat and gravy, or whatever takes your fancy. They should be light and fluffy - keep practicing.

Going on the record with depression.

2011-06-21T09:37:00.005+01:00

I have a lot of respect for Marcus Trescothick, the one-time England international cricketer whose career was so affected by his depression.

I have three chronic conditions. I am a Type 2 diabetic. However, with medication and no more attention to my way of life than any man my age should bear in mind, the condition is managed. I have ME, which is a damnable condition that has reduced the scope of my abilities to a frustratingly low level. However, with care, I can just about steer a course around it. Then there is depression. Being clinically depressed is indescribably awful. Dread, fear, suicidal imagery are constantly there, life loses all its joy and colour. It cripples and intimidates. It is the condition I have that genuinely frightens me, and I know I am more than a little obsessive about monitoring my moods.

So, I'm in awe of Marcus Trescothick's ability to open up on the topic.

Here's an article in the Guardian about him. Trescothick has written a book giving an account of his experience. I'm embarrassed to say I haven't read it yet, but I plan to put that right soon. It would seem to cumpulsory reading for anyone with, or with an interest in, clinical depression. Important stuff - this is an illness that kills and causes misery for far too many.

Hobbies and People with ME - Brewing

2011-06-02T09:53:00.025+01:00

I started brewing my own beer in the 1970's. Like many others, I started with the kits then popular, producing a highly alcoholic, almost tasteless gassy liquid reminiscent of beer, rather than actually BEING beer.

I went through the halfway house of adding some grain malt and real hops to the concoction, and was rewarded with results more closely resembling proper beer. However, the partial success of these endeavours led to an inevitable conclusion. Proper beer comes from proper ingredients - grain malt, good hops, quality yeast, and a small but well considered palette of other adjuncts. Much as in all other endeavours, rubbish in = rubbish out.

Full grain brewing ia a craft, an art and a science, By comparison, wine making is simplicity itself. 'Collect fruit, crush fruit, add yeast, maybe sugar, wait, bottle.'

In brewing, there are many more variables. The main ingredient is (usually) malted barley. Malting is the process of steeping barley grains in water, encouraging them to start sprouting into young plants. The maltster intervenes to stop this process just before the infant shoot emerges from the seed by heating the grains. By this point the starchy content of the grain is ready to be converted by enzymes produced in the grain into sugars to fuel the developing plant, and it it these sugars that provide the fermentable content of the beer later in the process. The grains of malt may be just heated enough to stop growth, and will be a pale colour almost indistinguisable for the original barley. At the other extreme, they might be roasted until almost black, when they will be used to provide the dark colour and bitter taste of a stout. There are many intermediate types also. Already the brewer is confronted with a huge range of decisions. What type or types of malt to use? In what amounts, and in what combinations. How strong is the beer to be? Is it to have a pronounced malty flavour or different characteristics? What colour is it to be? What strength is required?

The malt is steeped in water at about 65 C, a temperature that facilitates the starch to sugar conversion. Altering the temperature alters the nature of the final beer made. Cooler mashing leaves more unfermentable elements, and so the beer will taste sweeter and fuller, but will contain less alcohol than a brew mashed at a higher temperature that will be more dry. 65 C provides a good balance. Again, more variables to consider in creating a style of beer, before we even consider the addition of sugars and/or unmalted grains in order to add different flavours and characteristics.

Hops are the next usual ingredient to consider. They impart a bitter flavour, and have preservative properties. Furthermore, thare are hops selected for their aroma that are responsible for the summery, soporific scent of a hoppy beer. The brewer is selecting hops with two main objectives - balancing the sweet flavour of the malt with hop bitterness, and adding aroma. Often two or more types of hop are used in brew, a bittering hop added early to the boiling beer 'wort', and a hop for arome added later. Again, there are many choices and decisions to make here, and we all have our own ideas.

Water is a key component. Hard waters suit lighter beers, softer water suits mild, porters and the like. Small amounts of salt will alter the mouth feel of the beer. I tend not to tinker too much as I am lucky to have a good quality supply of water for brewing, but again the brewer can alter the water to suit a purpose.

Yeast, known 'Godisgood' to our forebears, is the magic elelment that binds everything together. Once you have prepared our solution of malt and hop products by steeping and boiling, you leave the results to cool and add the yeast to staret fermentation. You can use cheap dried yeasts, you can buy liquid yeast cultures of known provenance, you can scrounge a jarful from a friendly brewer. The last is often the best idea, a local yeast strain will suit local conditions. A favourite yeast strain can be carried forward from brew to brew, given a degree of care.

Beer is a living, natural product when made this way. You're left with waste in the form of 'brewers spent grains', loved by my chickens, and spent hops, that mulch a garden flower bed well. With anything like luck, you will also have a few gallons of beer of a quality that leaves any beer you have ever bought looking very ordinary indeed. Home brewed beer made from grain malt, given fresh ingredients, and attention to detail, cleanliness, etc, is the best beer you will ever drink. This is beyond debate. Additionally, you had the fun of making it, it provides food and amusement for your poultry and it stops your flower beds getting weedy. Furthermore, it will be the cheapest beer available anywhere. You can give the money you save to the cause of your choice, instead of giving it to the Government in the form of Excise Duty to waste on your behalf.

The budding all-grain mash brewer needs three books to read. I've put links to Amazon UK in with the descriptions:

The Big Book of Brewing - David Line

This is the book that informed my early brewing days back in the 1970's. The sections on equipment are a little dated now, the variety of malts, hops, etc now available has grown mightily since the book was written, and mentions of Fahrenheit temperatures seem quaint to modern readers (Google is your friend for conversions to Celsius). However, on basics and technique, Mr Line remains spot on.

CAMRA's Complete Home Brewing - Graham Wheeler

Effectively the sucessor to David Line's book, published in the 1980's. Another very sound book, packed with information and recipes. Note that 3rd edition is due out in September 2011. This is probably the book to buy first. If you do everything the Wheeler way, you'll not go far wrong.

Radical Brewing: Tales and World-Altering Meditations in a Glass - Randy Mosher

Once you have made a few brews from the Gospels according to either Line or Wheeler, if not both, you might be looking to develop your style and craft as a brewer. Look no further than this book. It is not for the complete beginner, but it is a joy to read, bursting with ideas, inspiration and novelty. This should not be the first book on brewing you buy, but it might well be the second, and definitely should be the next you buy after Line and Wheeler.

Recommended Supplier: BrewUK.co.uk

A useful forum here.

I Want To Be Straight [Official Video]

2011-05-30T20:16:00.000+01:00

A work of genius....

Atomkraft? Nein, danke!

2011-05-30T19:12:00.007+01:00

I spent six happy years in Germany, dividing my time between Duesseldorf, Frankfurt, rural Baden-Wuerttemburg and Heidelberg. Germany is a very rational country, a country of philosphers, musicians, poets and thinkers, as well as an inspiring capacity for design and manufacturing.

These eminently sensible people erect wind turbines where-ever possible to generate electricity, and have just announced that from 2022, no nuclear power will be generated in the Bundesrepublik. Many in Britain would want to decry these decisions as deluded, but I think it's fair to say that the Germans have made a much better set of economic decisions than any other country in Europe in the last fifty years, and it's hard to dismiss a choice made by such a successful economy.

Scotland has similar ambitions. Are we going to see a North - South split on energy policy? France and England continuing to use the 20th century nuclear solution, whilst Northern Europeans move onto renewables and the 21st century?

Whitey on the Moon - Gil Scott-Heron (RIP)

2011-05-28T11:36:00.001+01:00

Rapture

2011-05-21T14:18:00.001+01:00

If it's all over, just sit and listen to this - it's heavenly.

New Doctor, Same Old DSS, Keeping Sane

2011-05-17T19:50:00.015+01:00

I think I'm impressed with my new GP practice. I get the sense that they have no great experience of ME, but they are positive and supportive. I've been having a bad time with mood swings lately, ands a visit to the practice resulted in an appointment for a psychological service for the chronically ill. A previous visit about a bad episode of eczema had me at a dermalogical clinic within 10 days, and has resolved the problem. So, three cheers for the Leven Health Centre.

Meanwhile, I'm back on the Benefits treadmill. I've found a good source of support in the local Citizen's Advice service. Just thinking about the task of making a claim without help makes me feel ill, so I'm glad of the help. It's probably useful that I have crossed the 'I can do that' barrier - as so often these days I cannot.

I potter about with my raised bed vegetable garden, my polytunnel, and my chooks. All this is doable in the 20-30 minute episodes of energy I can muster two or three times a day. The 'Battlestar Galactica" boxset has proved a great way to pass some of the bad times. Less often, I read, but the concentration is so shaky.

To look forward to - ten eggs in the incubator - five should produce blue egg laying Cream Crested Legbars, and the other five are Wheaten French Marans that lay sumptuous chocolate brown eggs comme ca. All this assumes that they aren't all cockerels, which produce only these. Oh! and this :)

Song for an Election

2011-05-05T16:02:00.000+01:00

Politician by Cream

Hey now baby, get into my big black car
Hey now baby, get into my big black car
I wanna just show you what my politics are.
I'm a political man and I practice what I preach
I'm a political man and I practice what I preach
So don't deny me baby, not while you're in my reach.
I support the left, tho' I'm leanin', leanin' to the right
I support the left, tho' I'm leanin' to the right
But I'm just not there when it's coming to a fight.
Hey now baby, get into my big black car
Hey now baby, get into my big black car
I wanna just show you what my politics are.

Relaunch and an Election

2011-05-05T11:26:00.001+01:00

I've neglected this blog for a while - I've been using the energy I could muster to get my vegetable garden organised, though energy has been in short supply. But today's a hopeful day. The recent spell of good weather has helped me feel better, the garden's growing, and things seem well.

Today is Parliamentary election day in Scotland, and I'm very hopeful of a good progressive result. The tradtional British parties have offered little talent and less hope in their campaigns, and it seems this will benefit the positive and optimistic approach of the SNP. Saor Alba.

I'm going to go the whole hog and through in a touch of sentimentality. Here's Dougie with the alternative national anthem.

Secret Weapon Deployed

2011-05-02T12:41:00.002+01:00

"Osama Bin Laden was finally located thanks to the radar device Princess Beatrice agreed to wear on her head."

Marvin Gaye "What's Going On / What's Happening Brother"

2011-03-16T14:03:00.000Z

Beyond a Joke

2010-12-21T00:05:00.003Z

I'm fed up with snow. It's been nearly a month now since the first fall here, and we are still blanketed in the stuff. At night , we are seeing double digit minus numbers on the thermometer. My stack of firewood is diminishing rapidly, and cutting it up is tiring me out.

Bah! Humbug!

Merry Xmas

2010-12-03T17:47:00.001Z

I CAN'T RESIST A GOOD PENGUIN JOKE...

2010-12-03T13:15:00.002Z

Shamelessly pinched from Munguin's Republic

A man was driving down the road with a car full of penguins. Penguins sticking out the windows, penguins coming out the sunroof, penguins everywhere.

A bobby pulled him over and told him if he didn't want a ticket he'd better take those penguins straight to the zoo. The man promised he would and drove off.

The next day, the same road, the same car, the same guy, the same polisman and the same penguins - only this time the penguins were all wearing sunglasses!

The bobby pulled the guy over and said, "I thought I told you to take these penguins to the zoo!"

"I did" said the guy, "today I'm taking them to the beach!"

Antidote

2010-11-27T22:25:00.004Z

The world's probably going to hell in a handbasket and I don't know the way out of it all. But I do know if you listen to this Emmylou Harris concert, it will put the smile back on your face. This links to the first part of the show, but you can follow it on through five sections in total.

Nations divided by a common tongue

2010-11-23T23:06:00.001Z

Two Weddings and a Funeral

2010-11-17T12:55:00.006Z

I know of a young woman about to marry a serving member of the Royal Air force. Not Kate Middleton, but my daughter Nicola. Her fiance has just begun a four month long posting to the Falkland Islands, so he'll come back to a frenzy of preparations for a wedding in July.

News of a wedding is always good - there's always a story of happiness and commitment there. I'm delighted about Nicola's situation, and I can't find it in me to be grumpy about the forthcoming royal nuptials. Yes, there will be a relentless tide of publicity, the shops will be full of souvenir tat, and the BBC will fawn and scrape obsequiously. Yes, the monarchy is a fossilised relic of an unjust and outdated model of society that belongs on the scrapheap. None of this will be the fault of the young people involved, and I wish them well. Like Nicola and her fiance Chris, they met in St Andrews, just six or seven miles away from where I sit now. There's a nice syncronicity to all of this that I am enjoying.

It's just a month since my father's funeral, and it is good to be reminded that life is a regenerative process. I've been utterly flat and ill for the last month, having massively overdrawn my stamina and energy accounts during the time of my father's death, and I'll take my comfort from where I can find it.

Time for some Bob

2010-10-31T20:11:00.001Z

This sums things up. Thank you, Dr Z.

Hasta la victoria siempre

2010-10-31T12:10:00.012Z

I'm feeling pretty fed up with politics at the moment. Paul O'Grady says it all about the UK governing coalition in the video below. I've just seen TV coverage of a delusional "Scottish" Labour conference that will only be remembered for Harriet Harman (Labour's UK equality spokesperson - you couldn't make this up!) and her highly unpleasant racist comparison of the Chief Secretatary to the Treasury to a "ginger rodent". Ian Gray - the leader of "Scottish" Labour - made a leaden speech and concluded it with his opinion that no-one can be a Scottish patriot unless they support a Unionist party.

Whilst all this posturing and posing goes on, a total assault is being launched on the disadvantaged of Great Britain by the cabal of millionaires who govern this country in the coalition cabinet. In Parliament, the announcement of each succesive outrage was greeted with cheers and hilarity from the Government benches. Mreanwhile Harman can think of nothing better to do than to fling about childish remarks about hair colour. Gray seems to think everything is all the fault of the Scottish National Party, despite the shaky economic record of the last UK Labour Government...

Hare are a couple of blogs worth following:

http://diaryofabenefitscrounger.blogspot.com/
http://thebrokenofbritain.blogspot.com/

And here's Mr O'Grady.

Hard Times in Old England

2010-10-07T10:53:00.007+01:00

I came back up to Scotland yesterday after a week with my father, who had been admitted to hospital with pneumonia. Unfortunately, it got the better of him early this morning, when he slipped away peacefully , 24 hours short of his 83rd birthday. My thanks go to the staff of Jupiter and Teal wards at the Great Western Hospital in Swindon, who did much to help him through his final illness.

My Dad finally went gently into the good night, but only after three decades of an encyclopedia of illnesses that he usually bore well, with only a few descents into grumpiness. He was a man of faith, and he would have breathed his last holding a little wooden cross given to him by the Vicar of Cricklade, the small Wiltshire town where he lived long and happily. We had all seen him recently, and his death will not be the cause of any self-reproach or "if onlies". He saw his grandchildren grow into happy adulthood, and was content. He avoided the living death of Alzheimer's and the dread and pain of a cancer. A life well lived as a soldier, a businessman, a volunteer, husband and father. A life well lived and well ended, we give thanks for it and share his hopes for what will come to be. I hope he was confident he could stand before his Maker without fear of rebuke.

Boats, Gin and Oatcakes

2010-09-30T12:09:00.002+01:00

We are just back from our week on Jemima D. The boat feels so much nicer to use with her snug dry new top, and she performed flawlessly throughout the week, despite her elderly little engine being scheduled for a thorough overhaul and rebuild. Life on a narrowboat, watching the world go by at three miles per hour, with pauses to work through locks, is a great stress-buster.. We found a handy canal-side damson tree. We put Jemima's bow into the bank and filled a bucket with ripe fruits to take home for damson gin making.

As nearly all of our boating was on the glorious Caldon Canal, we were in North Staffordshire for the week - homeland of the scandously over-looked Staffordshire Oatcake. These divinely-inspired creations, rolled up with fillings such as bacon, cheese, eggs or balck pudding are the ideal boater's breakfast. Recipe here.

Staffordshire is a lovely county, and I would urge UK "staycationers" to go and check out its waterways and scenery. There's lot more to the place than Alton Towers and The Potteries.

Boating

2010-09-15T14:49:00.005+01:00

We've spent many happy times on Jemima D. Jemima is an elderly narrowboat that would have been the pride of a holiday boat hire fleet forty years ago. Now, she is owned by a 12 member co-operative, and provides a great low-cost way to boat. I left the co-op with much regret when I became unemployed and needed to cut my outgoings. However, I remain friendly with the co-op, and we've been invited to join a member for a week's boating starting this weekend. We can look forward to a leisurely potter about through Cheshire and Staffordshire about the trusty rusty craft. The trip will take us through the 2926 yards of the Harecastle Tunnel. We'll hope, as we always do, that Kit Crewbucket is resting easy as we pass through. So far, the worst I've suffered in Harecastle is a few rusty stains on my boating hat caused by the drips that fall from the tunnel roof. It takes the best part of an hour to boat through the tunnel - it's a weird experience.

We're picking the boat up in or near Macclesfield, and we'll head south onto the Trent and Mersey Canal, through Harecastle, and onto the Caldon Canal. A nice varied stretch to boat on, and in reach of a good few of our boaty friends. It's been too long, I'm looking forward swinging a windlass at a canal lock again.

Another Viral Straw in the Wind

2010-09-07T11:43:00.003+01:00

An interesting little story reported by the BBC today - link here

The story was given a quite positive spin on the BBC Radio 4 Today prog. today - it mentioned that disbelief was a common problem for ME sufferers, and that therefore a finding suggesting a viral cause for ME was a positive step for the morale of sufferers, let alone the prospect of a cure.

At the other extreme

2010-08-23T21:10:00.000+01:00

Cerebral, intense and beautiful:

Great Pop Songs

2010-08-23T19:54:00.002+01:00

Sometimes all you need is a catchy tune, a straightforward sentiment and everything kept simple. Here's a great example of the genre - more to follow.

Julie Fowlis - Bothan Àirigh am Bràigh Raithneach

2010-08-13T15:11:00.002+01:00

Regular readers will know I'm a great fan of the BBC's "Transatlantic Sessions". Here's Julie Fowlis singing for us in the language of heaven

Little Douce Coop

2010-08-08T10:57:00.002+01:00

American and English are subtly different languages, and the differences can be rather startling. In the UK, a rubber is what we use to erase pencil marks,the item that it shares a name with in the US has an entirely different function. Americans talking about their "fanny" in the UK will be surprised to learn that in the UK a fanny is not a backside, but an adjacent female body part. The scope for embarrassment is boundless.

However, this post is about henhouses and the vagaries of US v UK pronunciation. We'd say, "Little dewse Coupay" in Britain, whereas we all know how it sounded when the Beach Boys sang. My hens have a nifty new coop, complete with wheels so it can be moved to fresh pastures. It's very smart, neat and tidy - "douce" in the Scots.

So, it's a "Little Douce Coop" - Enjoy your new home, ladies!

What does ME feel like?

2010-08-06T21:43:00.003+01:00

I get asked that a lot. Here's as good an answer as I've found, although the experience extends to razors, cups of tea, cordless phones, remote controls. I even lost my car recently - took me 15 minutes to find it again.

Thanks to Leanne Hunter http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=172271661588 - who posted this to the Facebook UK Chronic Fatigue Syndrome group.

Toothbrush, Toothbrush, Where for art thou Toothbrush?

I search under the cupboard,
I look inside the kitchen sink,
I look inside the breadbin,
I look inside the fridge.

But my toothbrush is nowhere to be found.

I look inside my cabinets,
I look under the couch,
I look inside the fish tank,
Turn the living room inside out!

But my toothbrush is nowhere to be found.

I search around the garden,
I look inside the shed,
I check between the bed sheets,
And underneath the bed!

Where could my toothbrush be?

I search around the bathroom,
My toothbrush isn’t in the bath.
It isn’t on my storage shelf.
Or beneath the bathroom matt.

Where’s my blooming toothbrush?

I sit with hands tight on my head,
How will i brush my teeth?
I don’t want plaque on my gums,
When i go to sleep!

Now it’s getting late,
And i want to go to bed,
I give up and sigh and say goodnight,
And raise my weary head.

And then right there before me,
My toothbrush proudly stands,
In the place it’s always been,
In its own little stand!

I start to feel frustrated,
I should have looked there first,
Before the contents of my house,
We’re angrily dispersed.

What did i need my toothbrush for?
As i hold it in my hand.
All night it’s had a purpose,
One now, i can’t understand.

Why did i need my toothbrush?
What could its purpose be?
My brain flicks on, its purpose;
Was to stir my cup of tea?

Farewell, Farewell - Fairport Convention

2010-08-05T14:05:00.002+01:00

Here's one of those wonderful Fairport tracks in which Sandy Denny's gorgeous voice and Richard Thompson's guitar skill weave in and around each other to create something magical. Poor Sandy has been a long time gone, but over 40 years later RT still tours to delight us. If you've never seen him, I urge you to do so before he calls it a day.

Ben Keith

2010-08-03T09:13:00.002+01:00

Neil Young's long time musical collaborator Ben Keith died last week. Here's "Out on the Weekend" complete with Ben Keith's steel guitar.

Is this thing on?

2010-07-27T22:43:00.004+01:00

So, two months just flew by. It's been fun establishing ourselves here at Gilston. The summer has been pretty good , at least by Fife standards, and we've got a lot done. The ME has been restrictive - I'm having to pace myself carefully, but I've got a lot done. I've worked on being able to graciously accept offers of help, even though internally I was snarling at the need and my injured pride. I've got rid of the inner snarl now, and life is easier all of a sudden.

Return from the Cybervoid

2010-05-27T17:19:00.004+01:00

After 7 weeks of absurdity I'm finally back online! I coud use this post to give a blow by blow account of my dealings with unco-operative and obtuse Internet Service Providers, but it would probably bore you as much as it does me, so we won't go there.

On the plus side, however, we are now established at the new address. The financial storm clouds have parted, and I have been granted early payment of my pension on the grounds of my ill-health. Combined with the Employment Support Allowance I was granted at my appeal tribunal back in March, I now have a guaranteed income. It's not as much as I used to earn, but it is a good two thirds of that amount, and I'm now spared a great deal of worry.

Moving house with ME is quite an experience. I found that there were days when the sheer need to get things done carried me through, followed by some heavy-duty "payback" days. Oddly, there were a few times my depression, which is normally under control, put in an appearance, despite the steady progress I felt we were making.

I'm sitting here in something of a trance today - yesterday was my regular colonoscopy examination, a souvenir of the bowel cancer I had nearly 20 years ago. To add to the fun, I was examined from both ends on this occasion! The sedative used always gives me a filthy hung over feeling, although I'm happy to report that the test revealed all is well.

It's good to be blogging again, watch this space!

Worry, Illness, Guilt

2010-04-01T08:33:00.006+01:00

I follow the blog of a young (at least in comparison to me!) teacher who has recently been afflicted by something that sounds very like ME, although I hope for his sake it isn't. Nonetheless, he's laid low at the moment, and has just had to pull out of a long-planned long distance cycle ride.

He's blogged about his feelings about all this. As can be imagined, he's utterly fed up. He feels he is letting people down, and he's worrying about his longer term future.

These are feelings I know only too well, as does everyone else with a chronic condition. I think that People With M E (PWME hereafter) have a special extra burden to bear because of the "controversial" nature of our condition. PWME have a habit of looking quite well when we aren't crashed out on a sofa. We can walk and talk and stuff just like everyone else. It's just that we can't do it for as long, or as quickly. Sometimes, if we stand up too quickly, or bend over rapidly, the game is over. I usually have a couple of really good hours per day in me, and I've learnt how to run my life so I can, to a point, choose when to use them. See me in those two hours, and I look fine.

PWME also have to deal with history of cynicism toward their illness. It was once called "yuppie flu" in the press, and derided as a licence to malinger. There are still vigorous remnants of that attitude to be encountered amongst medical professionals, those who decide eligibility for assistance and a lot of other folk who ought to know better. Charlatans and quacks offer ineffective and inappropriate cures, and in the UK appear to have successfully convinced Government agencies in the case of Graded Exercise Therapy.

What M E needs is what the medics call a "sign" - a clear identifying symptom. The classsic example of this, as well as being a classic piece of medical black humour, is "Custer's sign". This relates to victims of severe traumas like a car crash. If a male victim is found to have an erection on admission, it is an indicator that he has broken his back and may well be paralysed from the break down - hence "Custer's last stand". He's got a real problem, but at least he has no need to convince anyone of it.

M E is much more nebulous thing. Convincing the authorities we are ill is a laborious process. This leads to worry, about being believed, about whether we will have an income, about the progress of the illness. We feel guilty because we are not pulling our weight, we are leaving tasks for others, and we wonder if we have turned into malingerers overnight. On top of all this we are actually quite ill with a condition that varies, but is often highly disabling. Our thought processes are slow, we are forgetful, we are not able to organise easily.

So here's a new acronym - WIG - Worry, Illness, Guilt - for the burdens a PWME carries about. The worry and the guilt tend to worsen the condition, but are built into the experience of ME. Resolving that paradox is a key part of coping with the illness, and I wish all the M E affected readers of this blog success in finding a way through.

The Road and the Miles to Dundee

2010-03-31T19:38:00.004+01:00

So, there I was, walking past the bus station in St Andrews on my way to the bank, when a young lady tourist asked me if I knew where the bus to Dundee went from. I did, and I showed her, and she thanked me with a dazzling smile. Improved my outlook on life no end.

Cold winter was howlin' o'er moorland and mountain
And wild was the surge of the dark rolling sea
When I met about daybreak a bonnie young lassie
Who asked me the road and the miles to Dundee.

Says I, "My young lassie, I canna weel tell ye,
The road and the distance I canna weel gie,
But if you'll permit me to gang a wee bittie,
I'll show you the road and the miles to Dundee."

The lassie consented and gie me her airm
Not a word did I speir wha the lassie micht be
She appeared like an angel in feature and form
As she walked by my side on the road to Dundee.

At length wi' the howe o' Strathmartine behind us
The spires o' the toon in full view we could see,
She said, "Gentle sir, I can never forget ye
For showin' me so far on the road to Dundee.

This ring and this purse please accept as a token
And surely there's somethin' that ye can gi'e me,
That in years to come I'll the laddie remember
Who showed me the road and the miles to Dundee?"

I took the gold pin frae the scarf on my bosom,
And said, "Tak' ye this, in remembrance o' me",
And bravely I kissed the sweet lips o' the lassie
And I pairted frae her on the road to Dundee.

So here's tae the lassie; I canna forget her,
And ilka young laddie wha's listenin' to me,
O never be sweir to convey a young lassie,
Though it's only to show her the road to Dundee.

Mony A Mickle Maks A Muckle

2010-03-31T12:58:00.002+01:00

Ever since I posted about the joys of Spring, the weather's been a swine - cold, windy, rain, snow.

The phone company has had a mix up and disconnected the phone here a month before they should have done. I've spent a long frustrating time on the phone trying to get them to take ownership of their mistake and sort it. Meanwhile, I'm still unable to make or receive calls.

I lost my broadband connection for a day as well, although that has now mysteriously re-appeared.

I've got some stupid stomach bug that's making me grumpy.

My head aches.

Thank goodness the news is all still good on the new house front - I've had enough.

Both Sides the Tweed

2010-03-29T20:38:00.004+01:00

Here's Mary Black with her gorgeous version of Dick Gaughan's setting of "Both Sides the Tweed". It's a lovely song with a superb sentiment. Beneath, I've put the words and Dick Gaughan's notes about the song, because a bit of context helps.

What's the spring-breathing jasmine and rose ?
What's the summer with all its gay train
Or the splendour of autumn to those
Who've bartered their freedom for gain?

Let the love of our land's sacred rights
To the love of our people succeed
Let friendship and honour unite
And flourish on both sides the Tweed.

No sweetness the senses can cheer
Which corruption and bribery bind
No brightness that gloom can e'er clear
For honour's the sum of the mind

Let virtue distinguish the brave
Place riches in lowest degree
Think them poorest who can be a slave
Them richest who dare to be free

Song Notes - by Dick Gaughan

This was put into this form in 1979 shortly after the Scots returned a majority in favour of a separate Scottish Parliament but the vote was vetoed in the UK Parliament due to the inclusion of the notorious "40% of all eligible votes" clause which had the effect of counting votes not cast as being votes against. There is now good evidence to suggest that the architect of this piece of electoral sleight-of-hand may have been Robin Cook.

The verses call for the recognition of Scotland's right to sovereignty and the choruses argue against prejudice between our peoples. The Tweed is the river which forms part of the Scots-English border and is used here as a symbol of both the need for independence and the need for friendship and co-existance.

The original text was an attack upon the Treaty of Union of 1707 which abolished the independent Scots and English Parliaments and set up the United Kingdom. I made some minor amendments to give it contemporary relevance.

The tune has been the subject of some speculation and argument. So far as I am aware, I actually composed it and am highly flattered by the presumption that it is traditional, with people claiming to have known it for several decades, if not centuries.

There are also people who claim that they heard their grandparents sing Ewan MacColl's, "Shoals of Herring" in the 30s. My mother had never heard of MacColl but used to sing his "Manchester Rambler" which she'd learned from a Lancashire woman in the army during WW2 and always assumed it was an old song from that area. Hamish Henderson once collected a variant of his own "Gillie Mor" from the Borders singer Willie Scott who was quite surprised to learn it was not an old song. And there are those who swear that Eric Bogle's "No Man's Land" is a traditional Irish song called "The Green Fields of France".

For one writing songs in a "traditional" genre, this is the highest compliment imaginable. Like all tunes composed within any aesthetic, it is inevitable that it has similarities to and contains phrases and quotes from earlier tunes. However, if someone can provide a printed or recorded source to prove the existence of this tune prior to 1979 then I'd be delighted to acknowledge that I unconsciously used a traditional tune.

More Transatlantic Sessions - Roseanne Cash

2010-03-29T20:02:00.000+01:00

The honourary Fifer playing in Scotland:

In a spin

2010-03-29T12:47:00.003+01:00

My head's going like a cement mixer today. I'm just back from the new house, and I'm planning this that and the next thing. Where are the hens going, how do I best use my veg plot, can I get a polytunnel, and what size. I need to build a beehive. I need to get a chainsaw and a trestle for firewood cutting. All great fun - there will be much drawing of plans, scrounging of wooden pallets to recycle into beehives and raised vegetable bed edging, cadging of bulk bags and chipped wood for path making, studying of seed catalogues, setting up of incubator for chick hatching, and all sorts of other fun stuff, all that can be done at a leisurely pace. Low cost, low impact, low input are the guiding principles, though I'll need to make a few investments early on when I get my pension lump sum.

One of these to tow one of those is on the list, for wood-collecting and daily transport for me. I've one of these in mind as well. I'm going to need this and that as well

My veg patch has 13 metres of South facing wall - I could probably grow figs, peaches and apricots against that, even this far North!

I'm enjoying this!

Spring in the North

2010-03-28T21:11:00.004+01:00

We are past the Spring Equinox, and last night the clocks went forward an hour. This is a big deal this far North. I'm at 56 deg 17 mins North here, so to US readers, whose country borders Canada at 48 deg North, it's clear I'm a lot further North than any of you.

So, suddenly it's still daylight at 8 PM, and the days are lengthening noticeably now. In June, it will still be light until nearly 11 PM. We pay back for this in the winter, when it is dark late into the mornings and early in the afternoon. The cabin fever can hit hard, and it's not a good time to have ME. But now everything is great and getting better. I love this time of year, as the sun climbs higher in the sky every day. The effect is even better tonight, with a big bright full moon lighting up proceedings.

The hens like it too, suddenly I'm being deluged with eggs!

New abode

2010-03-28T12:30:00.000+01:00

Lot of pics here.

Happy Birthday to me!

2010-03-27T12:19:00.002Z

I just had this sent to me! Love it!

Did I mention it's my birthday tomorrow? Honestly, I don't want any fuss.

On dealing with problems.

2010-03-27T12:08:00.001Z

"If your house is flooded or burnt to the ground, whatever the threat to it, let it concern only the house. If there's a flood, don't let it flood your mind. If there's a fire, don't let it burn your heart. Let it be merely the house, that which is outside of you, that is flooded or burned. Now is the time to allow the mind to let go of attachments." Venerable Ajahn Chah.

There must be some kinda way outta here...

2010-03-26T17:52:00.005Z

I have always loved Jimi Hendrix's music. I was 15 when he first exploded into the world of blues and rock. I've been listening to him for 40 years, and everything he ever recorded is still a delight to listen to. His sheer artistry still takes my breath away.

This song sums up exactly how I felt as we waited to sell our house and move, and the exultant guitar licks sum exactly how I feel now the end is in sight. Dylan wrote it - Hendrix gave it super powers. Thanks, Jimi.

Synonym bypass

2010-03-26T17:28:00.003Z

I don't have great pretensions as a writer. At work, I wrote "Social Enquiry Reports" on offenders and their situations to the Courts. It was usually serious stuff, and attention to detail was important. It was good to write with a certain style, simply to put a point across well and memorably. Judges are deluged with paperwork, so it's important to write with some flair, just to make sure your points are noted.

Nowadays, I find it's all gone to hell in a handbasket. I find myself repeating words and phrases as I write, and I'm always going back to edit out too many uses of the same word or phrase. I really admire those of you who have produced saleable written work whilst afflicted by this bloody illness. I'm sure you all have as many dry-ups and mental blocks as I do, along with moments of profound stupidity when nothing on the screen actually makes sense for a while. Go ME writers, I salute you. Now, where was I?

The Transatlantic Sessions

2010-03-26T15:34:00.005Z

The BBC in Scotland made an amazing series of programmes in the 1990s, in which musicians from both sides of the Atlantic collaborated to make some memorable music. From the US came such iconic names as Emmylou Harris, Nanci Griffiths and Kathy Mattea. The McGarrigal clan from Canada features, and great Scottish singers such as Karen Matheson of Capercaillie. The series produced some wonderful music, and I'm going to put up bits of it as I find it.

Leonard Cohen

2010-03-26T15:11:00.002Z

Over at Chris's blog, he's been asking for song titles that are appropriate for PWMEs. This "song" sprang to mind, although of course it's originally a poem by Byron. So here it is in a category of its own:

Election Time

2010-03-25T09:30:00.004Z

For the benefit of non-UK readers, I'll start by explaining that the UK Parliament does not have fixed election dates. The date is chosen by the Prime Minister of the day, who will of course always choose a date that favours his or her party. You might think that this is profoundly undemocratic, but I couldn't possibly comment on that.

There can be up to a five year interval between elections, and one is due before 3 June 2010. There appears to be a consensus that 6 May 2010 is the favourite date. I am aware that this makes no sense, but it's one of those British things that happens because "its tradition"

Anyway, we are soon to be granted the opportunity to choose a new Government.Whilst that feels a little like being offered the choice between being robbed or burgled, we do get a say for once.

Any road up, as we say in Yorkshire, I found a couple of web-sites for Parliamentary ME groups, and I pass them along for what they are worth.

The Holyrood lot are here

The Westminster version for those beyond the Tweed is here

Some handy info, and a steer on who to write furious letters to! I hope someone finds it useful.

Happiness Award

2010-03-24T14:10:00.006Z

Chris Mooney, that fine Scottish gentleman, has nominated me for a Happiness award, and I thank him for it! There are duties attached to the award, as follows:

The rules:
- When you have received this award you must thank the person that awarded you this in the new post.

- Name 10 things that make you happy.

- Pass this award onto other bloggers
and inform the winners.

So, thanks again Chris.

My ten happy things:

1. Family. I'm lucky to be part of a family that all get on, all live with 20 miles of each other, and who keep in touch. I gain a lot of strength and happiness from them all.

2. Friends. Again, I've a good circle of close friends. My regular Wednesday night chat in the pub with friends and neighbours is a highlight of my week.

3. Country life. I'm out in the boondocks and wouldn't have it any other way. I live in a lovely part of the world, and I appreciate that every day.

4. I'm at that funny age when all my children are grown but I'm not a grand-dad yet. I tend to find myself practicing grand-dad stuff on other people's young children. So, I will nominate Robyn, my next-door neighbour who is five, and who keeps me right in looking after my chickens.

5. Being from Yorkshire, living in Scotland. Best of both worlds really.

6. The peace I've found since studying Buddhism.

7. Music - all of it. Couldn't live without it.

8. The happy recent feeling of getting my life back after a pretty horrendous couple of years. I'm starting to feel like a proper retired person at last, and I'm going to enjoy it.

9. Looking after my birds. When I get it right they look good and reward me with eggs. I like the symbiosis between keeper and kept. The responsibilities and obligations are good for me.

10. This ME cyber-community. I'm very glad I found it, and I take a lot of strength from it.

My nominee for a Happiness Award is (drum roll - cymbal crash):

Nasim Marie Jafry of the velo-gubbed legs. Nasim's wonderful book was one of the first things I read after my diagnosis, and I found it a great help in realising that all sorts of people living all sorts of lives were going through the same thing as I was. I was charmed and entertained by the book. Thank you, Nasim!

Employment and Support Allowance

2010-03-23T15:56:00.002Z

I found this article online today. It's good to see that the Citizen's Advice Bureau has identified the problems that I, and I imagine several others here, have encountered with the process of Work Capability Assessments.

The Government need to acknowledge that they got this one wrong. A lot of public money was wasted in my case, when I was initially denied ESA by the Benefits Agency, and then had the decision reversed by a tribunal. I had nine months of unnecessary anxiety, and the public paid for the tribunal that finally corrected the injustice.

Incidentally, whilst the UK government continues to display its characteristic ineptitude over ESA, I can report a more positive attitude from the Scottish Government. I recently replied a lengthy, thoughtful and encouraging reply to a series of questions I posed to the Scottish Health Secretary - Nicola Sturgeon MSP, and I will put up a transcript when time, energy and inclination permit.

On our way!

2010-03-23T15:47:00.002Z

Daughter's boyfriend has just dropped off a heap of large cardboard boxes the Royal Air Force no longer require, so we can start to pack the countless millions of small items in our house. Where did all this stuff come from? A de-clutter is called for.

Meanwhile, I've started to pot up bit of things from the garden that are coming with us.

Suddenly, the move is upon us - I wonder how I'll pace my way through this lot?

Ain't it funny how time slips away?

2010-03-22T00:16:00.004Z

So, it's 20 past midnight, and I've been trying to get to sleep for the last three hours, 'cos I'm knackered. But, sleep won't come. So, it seems I'll have to be busy for a while to see if that does the trick. I already know tomorrow will be horrible as a result of a mucked up sleep pattern - I'll probably never really wake up all day. Ain't life grand?

Grrrrrrr.

The Black Watch

2010-03-21T17:56:00.008Z

Fife's local regiment of the British Army is The Black Watch. It's a famous name, and the regiment has a list of battle honours second to none. It was the last unit to leave Hong Kong when it became part of China, and has served extensively since. They have recently returned from Afghanistan, and several of its members have been honoured, as reported here.

Fife could have no better ambassadors than these brave men and women, and we grieve for their losses.

Susanneke and I have an old friend currently serving as a QARANC nurse in the Territorial Unit currently staffing the busy military hospital at Camp Bastion. Her letters describe a situation almost unimaginable to those of us secure in Scotland. God speed, Sue, come home safe.

Britain's National Health Service

2010-03-21T14:38:00.017Z

I've been reading quite a lot of US - based blogs recently, and the debate about the US plans for what seems to be a very watered down version of NHS is a very lively topic at present.

As a Briton, I am of course utterly dumbfounded by this. Some US commentators seem to think that the NHS is some sort of awful warning to Americans.

(Re-reading this, I realise that I might be coming across as trying to prescribe to Americans what they should be doing. That's not my wish - I just wanted to make the point that the NHS actually made proper health care available to Britons of low to average incomes for the first time, and has become a central part of the UK cultural landscape. I just rather objected to the system being misrepresented as a bad thing in someone else's argument - as here and here. My life expectancy as a UK citizen is rather greater than that of a US citizen. Much of this is due to the UK's much lower infant mortality rate - 4.8 per 1000 births, compared to the US 6.3 per 1000 births)

The NHS is the sole reason I am here to post today. 16 years ago, I was diagnosed with bowel cancer, and within 24 hours had been admitted to hospital, given 9 pints of blood to replace all that I had lost through the perforation in my gut caused by the cancer, to get me fit to operate on, and then had my hemi-colectomy performed. I developed a pulmonary embolism as i recovered, and that was also quickly and efficiently dealt with. So, the Victoria Hospital in Kirkcaldy saved my life twice in a week and I remain eternally grateful to them.

Now, as a diabetic, I receive all my prescription drugs free of charge, along with regular checks both of my diabetes, and for any re-occurrence of the cancer. As I am unfit for work, the government pays my National Insurance contributions so I remain eligible for this help.

We are about to have an election in the UK, but it is a given that all political parties will declare total support for the NHS, which is probably the most popular government institution in Britain.

It's a shame that nowadays we don't have politicians of the zeal and character of the people who created the NHS out of the post-war wreckage of the late 1940s. Something to hope for when we all make our choice, presumably in May.

A New Chapter

2010-03-20T12:08:00.006Z

Well, unbelievably, it seems that the wait is over - we've sold our house! It's for a lot less than its pre-credit crunch value, but it's great to have the liability of a mortgage I don't have the income to service gone. It feels like a tonne weight off my back.

Happily, we are all signed up for our new home , a rented cottage on a small sporting estate only 6 miles away. There is plenty of space for vegetable growing, chicken keeping and lots of other little plans that have been on hold for a while - everything from making mosaics through keeping bees to soap making.

I'm looking forward to a summer of pottering about and making a start at:

building a top bar bee hive

starting a "no dig" vegetable and fruit garden

putting up a polytunnel

trying to build in as many Permaculture practices as possible into my life

Breeding my favourite Croad Langshan poultry

Maybe even keep a few Abacot Ranger ducks

being able to do all this in a settled and meditative way, no pressure, no deadlines, but just pride in doing it all as well as possible.

Fisherman's Blues

2010-03-19T13:41:00.001Z

OK, one of my favourites to bring this musical interlude to an end:

May You Never

2010-03-19T11:42:00.002Z

The other favourite from the funeral. John Martyn himself was a recent tragic loss. A song full of wonderful sentiments from a larger than life Scottish musician.

May you never lay your head down without a hand to hold.
May you never make your bed out in the cold.
May you never lose your temper if you get hit in a barroom fight.
May you never lose your woman overnight.

Well, you're just like a great, strong sister to me,
And I know that your love is true,
And you hold no blade for to stab me in my back;
I know that there's some that do.

So please, won't you please, won't you bear it in mind:
Love is a lesson to learn in our time.
Please, won't you please, bear it in mind for me.

Well, you're just like a great, strong brother to me,
And I know that your love is true,
And you never talk dirty behind my back;
I know that there's some that do.

May you never lose your woman overnight.
May you never lose your woman overnight.

Boulder to Birmingham

2010-03-19T11:32:00.001Z

A favourite of my late colleague, played at her funeral

I don't want to hear a love song
I got on this airplane just to fly
And I know there's life below
But all that it can show me
Is the prairie and the sky

And I don't want to hear a sad story
Full of heartbreak and desire
The last time I felt like this
It was in the wilderness and the canyon was on fire
And I stood on the mountain in the night and I watched it burn
I watched it burn, I watched it burn.

I would rock my soul in the bosom of Abraham
I would hold my life in his saving grace.
I would walk all the way from Boulder to Birmingham
If I thought I could see, I could see your face.

Well you really got me this time
And the hardest part is knowing I'll survive.
I have come to listen for the sound
Of the trucks as they move down
Out on ninety five
And pretend that it's the ocean
coming down to wash me clean, to wash me clean
Baby do you know what I mean

I would rock my soul in the bosom of Abraham
I would hold my life in his saving grace.
I would walk all the way from Boulder to Birmingham
If I thought I could see, I could see your face.

Musings after a Funeral

2010-03-19T10:27:00.004Z

I went to the funeral of my friend and colleague on Wednesday. She was a well-thought-of person with a huge circle of friends, colleagues and neighbours, and the hall where the humanist service was held was packed.

As ever at funerals, mood and emotions leap about. Sorrow at the occasion is replaced for a moment with pleasure as someone you haven't seen in ages appears. Reminiscences mingle with talk of future plans. Overall, there is a sense of disbelief that someone so vital, and younger than yourself has passed away. A life well lived, but too soon ended.

We were exhorted by the celebrant to use the example and use the life left to us all to the best effect we could. That was a good message to take away from a bright afternoon by the sea, where the sun was warm on our backs, and where the new Spring was gathering pace all around us as we stood around the grave.

The last funerals I attended were in the Netherlands. There, it is the way to offer hopes of "strength" to to the bereaved. I think that is a wonderfully practical hope to offer, it acknowledges the hurt of loss, and offers hope of recovery in a neat package. That was the sentiment I expressed to the family. Then I stepped back into the bustle of life continuing in the little port of Anstruther, walking back to my car under a blue sky full of wheeling gulls.

You Never Know...

2010-03-12T13:10:00.003Z

I had a phone call from an ex-colleague, now retired. He had some sad news - a colleague, younger than us both, has suddenly died.

Whilst I was plodding along as a Social Worker, she was ascending the promotion and responsibility ladder, and reached some dizzy heights. She was, however, an out and out workaholic, with a very tight focus. Goes to show, with ME and all, maybe I'm the lucky one. There are points to ponder, wherever you look. She had her vision, I have mine. Mr Yeats states my position better than I could:

THE LAKE ISLE OF INNISFREE

By William Butler Yeats

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honeybee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a-glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

Life in Fife

2010-03-12T09:06:00.005Z

The biggest part of ME self-help, in my humble opinion, is mood maintenance. You have to look after your head. Depression, apathy, cynicism and a load of other nasties are out there to trap the unwary. A good environment is part of the process. When I'm counting my blessings, the fact that I live in rural Fife is well up the list. I'm surrounded by beauty, peace and quiet. The idea of enduring ME in an urban setting appals me. The bustle, the vehicle fumes, the noise, the absence of sky and the grey, closed-in look of a city would destroy any inner balance I might have found.

I live in an area with that special ight you find in proximity to the sea. I have green nearby hills, and distant snow covered mountains in view. At night, I can see The Milky Way, and sometimes the Northern Lights in the absence of light pollution. Each season brings its own special features. Just now, it's snowdrops wild in the woods, chevrons of geese overhead, soaring buzzards. My hens are coming back into lay after a cold snap, and I've been able to go out without my jacket zipped up for the last two days on the trot now.

Fife's good. This was a view famously held by one of my heroes, Johnny Cash. Many years ago, he found himself on a long flight sitting next to the hereditary Keeper of Falkland Palace in Fife. He learnt that "Cash" was a Fife name, still evident in the names of farms and roads in and around Falkland. He further learnt that the Cash family was descended from King Malcolm of Scotland. As a result, members of the Cash family are regular visitors to Falkland. I think that's a nice story, it always reminds me of this song, a great reflection on family life and loss.

ME - A Sabbatarian Approach?

2010-03-10T17:37:00.002Z

I read this article today, and it made me think. Although not aimed at people with ME, it describes an approach to life that would help us all. Read it and see what you think.

Coping Strategies

2010-03-10T08:28:00.002Z

I've been reading a blog by someone with a brand-new diagnosis of ME. His struggle to understand what is happening to him, and the strategies he is adopting to cope with it all got me thinking about my attitude to my illness.

I don't have the energy to waste on unproductive emotion, so rage and anger are not options.I have a history of depression, though, so it is important that I keep myself motivated and optimistic. I am only patchily successful in this, maintaining a good attitude remains a work in progress. My study of Buddhist thought is a great help in this goal.

Like alcoholism, ME is a big problem best dealt with a day at a time, and Reinhold Niebuhr's prayer, as adopted by Alcoholics Anonymous, is a highly apposite one for people with ME:

God, grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
The courage to change the things that I can;
And the wisdom to know the difference.

I don't dream of mountains climbed or mile cycled any more, much as I mourn my cycling. My hope now lies in the little patch of land behind the cottage we are moving to next month. Vegetables will be grown, a polytunnel erected. Poultry will be bred. I'll try bee-keeping. I hope to make myself generally self sufficient, living in peace and quiet in the country. I'll adopt as many Permaculture principals as I can and look at low input methods to make my personal energy go as far as possible.

For People with ME Everywhere - The Boss

2010-03-09T19:02:00.002Z

Some useful links

2010-02-18T12:56:00.003Z

I used the following resources in preparing my appeal:-

Benefits and Work

Action for ME

ME Association

There's a lot of helpful material available from these sources. I'm sure there are others - pointers would be welcome.

Shock late result 18 - 0

2010-02-18T10:57:00.005Z

I was one of the first to be ensnared in the thickets of the new Employment Support Allowance, the benefit that is replacing Incapacity Benefit. This is paid at a reduced rate until a medical opinion has been obtained by the DSS. I attended this medical in Dundee in May of last year.

There is a list of criteria the doctor has to consider, and he submits a report. This, along with a personal submission is considered by the DSS, who award a point score based on the information before them. The magic number is 15 points - match or beat this, and the benefit is payable. I, in the finest Eurovision tradition was awarded "null points,no points, keine Punkte". This felt very much like an insult being added to my injury, and I appealed the decision, albeit with zero faith in the process.

Time passed.

I received notification of the tribunal to consider my appeal, to be held in Dunfermline, a mere 60 mile round trip from home.

I half-heartedly prepared a few arguments, wrote some notes, and set off to D'line with Mrs Lucas driving.

I was grilled for 40 minutes in an austere church hall building, and then sent to await my fate in the company of a tremulous individual awaiting his audience with these modern Guardians of the Poor Law. My mood was abyssal at this point.

I was summoned back into the presence, and a certain lightness of the tone raised some hope. I was given the decision - I had been awarded 18 points, and was clean through the qualification barrier!

Despite my utter cynicism, the system had worked, admittedly only after months of stress, but hey! I will receive at least £25 per week additional benefit, and I think it will be back-dated. Additionally, I think I can now try my luck with Disability Living Allowance, which is the gateway to eligibility for many other payments.

If anyone reading this has one of ghastly events in their future, I'm happy to discuss my experience. I think the trick is to be clear, concise, 100% truthful and assertive. I'm used to Court type settings - I used to work in the Court system, and have often had to address a Court. If this isn't one of your skills - get a representive to speak for you. The doctor on my panel was a feisty old party, and I did have to (politely) take her on a couple of times.

It's nice to know the good guys win sometimes though, and I'm delighted.

Don't mention the Election

2010-02-17T10:56:00.002Z

I do try to avoid politics, but I can't resist passing along this:

ME/CFS Awareness 2010

2010-02-15T19:23:00.002Z

There will be a month of Blogging for ME/CFS in May - you can read about it here

I have found a lot of strength and encouragement through forging links with a network of fellow people with ME through the net, and I'm keen to support any venture that helps the community grow in numbers, influence and effectiveness. We need a voice.

So you'll be seeing this badge on my blog for the next while

Amy Henhouse

2010-02-15T11:41:00.003Z

A couple of photos, one of my bantam, one of a singer. Can you tell the difference?

Don't Mess with Yorkshireman

2010-02-15T11:32:00.003Z

Sent to me by a good friend (Thanks Alec). Tells you all you need to know about us Tykes.

A London lawyer and a Yorkshireman are sitting next to each other on a long flight to Leeds .
The lawyer is thinking that Yorkshire men are all 'cloth cap and clogs' and that he can fool them easily...

So the lawyer asks if the Yorkshireman would like to play a fun game.
The Yorkshireman is tired and just wants to take a nap, so he politely declines and tries to catch a few winks.
The lawyer persists and says that the game is a lot of fun.
'I ask you a question, and if you don't know the answer, you pay me only £5; you ask me one, and if I don't know the answer, I will pay you £500.'

As may be expected, this catches the Yorkshireman's attention and to keep the lawyer quiet, he agrees to play the game.
The lawyer asks the first question. 'What's the distance from The Earth to the moon?'
The Yorkshireman doesn't say a word, reaches in his pocket, pulls out a five-pound note, and hands it to the lawyer.

Now, it's the Yorkshireman's turn. He asks the lawyer,
'What goes up a hill with three legs, and comes down with four?'
The lawyer uses his laptop, searches all the references he knows.
He uses the air-phone; he searches the Net and even the British Library.
He sends e-mails to all the smart friends he knows, all to no avail.
After over an hour of searching, he finally gives up.
He wakes up the Yorkshireman and hands him £500.
The Yorkshireman pockets the £500 and goes straight back to sleep.

The lawyer is going crazy not knowing the answer. He wakes the Yorkshireman up and asks,
'Well! What goes up a hill with three legs and comes down with four?'
The Yorkshireman reaches in his pocket, hands the lawyer £5 and goes back to sleep.

Don't mess with Yorkshiremen; we only talk different.

Blue Egg

2010-02-13T22:17:00.003Z

I have a little black Auracana bantam that I raised from an egg hatched by a broody hen last year.

My little Auracana is called Amy, named for another famous Amy with a black beehive hairdo. She has a photocall tomorrow, meanwhile - here is her first egg, with others laid by her companions for contrast.

Ancient Monument

2010-02-13T19:06:00.008Z

Back in 1968, as we listened to "Pictures of Matchstick Men", who could have guessed we were listening to future Officers of the British Empire? Status Quo are now officially National Treasures, and surely soon they should be declared to be an Ancient Monument.

Well done Messrs Parfitt and Rossi. They have quietly done much over the years for charity, and given lots of ham-fisted guitarists hope - learn three chords and achieve world domination! For "Rockin All over the World" the three chords are C, F and G, by the way. If you want to be really poncy, you can chuck in a F#dim as well.

The whole rock star/titles/Buck House thing is so Spinal Tap as to be almost beyond parody. Surely it's time for ST 2 in which Nigel, Derek and David are called to the Palace for enoblement? When we we see Sir Ozzy, Lord Rotten, or the Earl of Bragg?

The Quo have their detractors, but how could anyone listen to this without a smile and a tapping foot?

RIP Mr Frisbee

2010-02-12T17:33:00.004Z

Walter Morrison, the inventor of the frisbee, has passed away. I've had a lot of fun with his invention over the years.

I'd recommend a round of the frisbee golf course in St Andrews to visitors to the town - it's part of the University's sports facilities.

There's a great sport called "Ultimate" that uses frisbees, details here. My eldest son was captain of the University of Dundee's Ultimate team.

Thank you, Mr Morrison.

Better late than never

2010-02-02T22:39:00.001Z

Shamelessly pinched from nmj, to whom great thanks must be given:

Burns Night

2010-01-19T23:13:00.004Z

Here's Michael Marra making a wonderful job of a wonderful Burns song.

Malawi, tea and some family history

2010-01-10T18:13:00.005Z

My wife's father spent his working life as a planter in the tropics. Much of his time was spent in Africa, latterly growing tea. His last position was as the Manager of the Satemwa Tea Estate in Malawi.

We were suprised to hear a reference to Satemwa in a radio broadcast this morning, and the following of some links through the miracle of t'internet led us to this clip

It was wonderful to see a place that we never saw in my wife's parent's lifetime, although it was such an important place for them.

Florence and Precious Mhango

2009-11-25T22:52:00.005Z

Please read this:

Indygal

and send an e-mail to Phil Woolas. We know he can be swayed - Joanna Lumley helped him see sense about the Gurkhas.

You can follow the campaign on Facebook

Swine Flu Jag

2009-11-24T14:10:00.005Z

I got a letter last week inviting me to attend my GP practice for a swine flu immunization. I have been receiving seasonal flu jags for a few years now because of my diabetes, and the swine flu inoculation offer followed on from that as I am in a risk category.

It was all an interesting experience. I found myself in a packed waiting room, and, as you do, began to eavesdrop a little. I was surprised at the general level of scepticism and fear in the room. People have become very suspicious, if not of science and medicine, certainly of the motives of the politicians and civil servants who set policy. Despite that 300 or so had turned up. I'm a bit more positive. I really don't want the flu, so I went for the jab with a glad heart.

I have to say I've felt pretty ill ever since - But I imagine that the strength of my reaction to the jag is indicative of my need for immunization. It's set off a lot of symptoms that could be either flu-like of ME. I'm tired, achy, can't concentrate,blah, blah, blah.

I'm glad I've had it though. It's still better than the real deal swine flu.

My advice for ME sufferers - get the jab, but clear your diary for 4 or 5 days afterwards.

ME, CFS, XMRV,ESA, MPs, MSP

2009-11-22T14:11:00.004Z

One of the more irritating by-blows of an illness is a surfeit of acronyms. My ME or CFS is now thought to be caused by the XMRV retro-virus. I'm quite ill, and I can't work - but apparently I'm not ill enough that the UK Government considers me eligible for Employment Support Allowance. The only treatment I have been offered was a brush with Cognitive Behavioural Therapy, not a treatment that is well suited to a retro-viral condition. Whilst it is the UK Government that pay benefit in Scotland, Health is a devolved matter, so it would appear that decisions about research and treatment will be made in Edinburgh.

I'm going to start firing off a few emails to relevant politicians, both in Westminster and Holyrood. A Westminster election is imminent, and a Scottish election is due about a year later, so I hope that the fact that my vote is up for grabs might concentrate minds. I shall post extracts of the replies here, especially those that seem particularly supportive and practical and those that are dismissive, contemptuous or ill-informed.

Pride and Sorrow

2009-11-20T09:21:00.002Z

On her thought-provoking blog, Subrosa has put up this video.

Please take a moment to watch it.

Mickel Therapy?

2009-11-17T09:26:00.006Z

I was a little concerned to see a comment added to my last post that appears to be an advertisement for a rather expensive course of psychological treatment for ME. At a time when the evidence for ME having a physical cause - in the form of a virus - is stronger than ever, I find myself very unconvinced by a suggestion of a psychological 'cure'.

In my previous incarnation as a Social Worker, I had plentiful dealings with Cognitive Behavioural therapies, and I know that they have a great deal to offer in appropriate cases. I was offered CBT myself through the ME clinic here in Fife, and benefited from it. The benefit, however, was not that it cured my ME, rather that it helped me to learn to live with it, negotiate with it, manage it, so that I could still achieve goals (albeit limited ones) and avoid despair. What it didn't do was 'cure' my ME, nor did I ever expect it to; psychology isn't about curing chronic physical illness.

Even if I had been tempted to try 'Mickel Therapy', the fact that it was presented to me in a spam post to my blog would have set me against the idea. It's been pushed at me in the same way as those Nigerian 'get rich quick' emails that invite you to give lots of money to someone you've never heard of. Well, I'd never heard of Mickel before today, and just like the Nigerian spammers, he's getting none of my limited funds.

I'd really appreciate comments on this. I am actually quite angry about what I see as an attempt to deceive me into parting with money that I don't really have in the vain hope of being cured of a chronic physical condition by some form of psychotherapy.

Keep Going

2009-11-14T23:35:00.001Z

You keep going. That is the bodhisattva's way. As long as it benefits even one being you have to, without any sense of discouragement, go on.
~ His Holiness the 16th Gyalwa Karmapa

I pinched this quote from lotusinthemud

It seems a pretty good motto to me.

A bodhisattva is one who compassionately puts helping others to be enlightened ahead of their own enlightenment.

Dazed and Confused

2009-11-14T12:36:00.005Z

Well, after the great excursion to Edinburgh on Thursday, yesterday was the total wipe-out I'd anticipated. Every part of me ached, the brain fog was a real pea-souper, energy levels were flat and low. And guess what - today's the same.

However, at least I know I can get through a full day if I'm prepared to pay back with interest later.

ME Developments

2009-11-13T21:17:00.009Z

Here's a link to a great blog post that neatly summarizes the recent discovery of a retrovirus that seems a highly likely cause of ME.

I devoutly hope that this advance eliminates all the lingering and destructive prejudice that attaches to ME - yes, unbelievers, it is a real illness! I also hope it leads to a cure, and that sooner rather than later.

Here is a link to the website of the The Whittemore Peterson Institute for Neuro Immune Disease

It seems I'm probably affected by Xenotropic murine leukemia virus-related virus, otherwise called XAND.

Here's the website of XAND and XMRV.com, which looks like it will be a useful source of information.

A Day in Auld Reekie

2009-11-13T09:56:00.006Z

I've been surveying the wreckage of my working life recently, after 18 months of not being fit for work, and decided to see what I could do about it.

The idea of a new career as a proof-reader/copy editor had been forming in my mind for a while, and I signed myself up for a day of introductory training provided by Publishing Scotland, held in Edinburgh. Yesterday was the day; I was rather nervous about how I would cope, and spent two days resting up beforehand.

7.50 saw me at Cupar station, and the 7.55 Cross Country train duly turned up on time. However, everything ground to a halt outside Inverkeithing, and the train was 25 minutes late into Edinburgh Haymarket.

I emerged from the station into the unaccustomed hustle and bustle of a city rush hour. There were plenty of signs of the tram works everywhere: Heras fencing, excavators, chaps busily leaning on shovels, and a general air of chaos.

I found my way to the venue - just a 5 minute walk from Haymarket. Publishing Scotland have rooms in the Fountainbridge Library, a handsome Art Deco building on Dundee Street. Despite the railway's best efforts, I was on time, and I was soon plunged into the mysterious world of proofreading, with its strange squiggly marks and much talk of 'n-spaces' and 'm-spaces'.

The course was well presented and very interesting in a geeky pedantic sort of way, so as a pedantic geek (or possibly a geeky pedant) I was perfectly happy, and I coped well with the morning session. In all training, the period after lunch, 'the graveyard shift', is when everybody nods off a bit and can't concentrate, but I survived that well. However, the afternoon coffee break was the start of a bit of a slide for me, and everything started to go rather soft focus and vague as the ME 'brain fog' put in its appearance. I'll be needing to reread the handouts for that session with some care. Luckily for me, the course tutor was a fellow ME sufferer, so she understood my predicament.

We finished up at about 5, and I plodded back to Haymarket rather wearily. I'd taken the precaution of booking a First Class seat home - given the rush hour plus the fact that I knew I'd be shattered. It was a good deal - only two quid more than standard, and I got a free cup of coffee and a muffin, so I was well pleased. Somehow, I managed not to sleep through my stop, and I was retrieved from the station by Mrs Lucas.

There followed a bite for tea and a bath, and I retired to bed at 7.45! I'm still waking up now really, and I have few expectations for today. I ache from head to foot, and my brain won't work properly.

But - it was a good day in the Athens of the North, and I think I've found a way forward. Here's a plug for The Society for Editors and Proofreaders (SfEP).

A Great Leap Forward

2009-10-14T13:25:00.010+01:00

All illness is horrible. Acute conditions are bad enough, but with a bit of luck you get better and life goes on. I've recovered from bowel cancer. It was quite advanced when discovered and I was very ill for a while, but I don't rate it as one of the greatest traumas of my life. When you have cancer, at least nobody tries to tell you that you are imagining it.

Chronic conditions are worse. Even if you do everything right, all you can hope to do is to minimise the effects. There is no prospect of recovery. I have three chronic conditions, depression, diabetes, and ME.

The depression was the first to arrive. It's not fun to live with. You wonder if you are imagining it, or whether you have become hysterical and pathetic. Everything in life is shades of grey; fun is a memory; dread is a constant companion.

Very shortly afterwards, I was diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes. It seems that diabetes and depression often co-occur. This knowledge made the depression seem much less of a shadowy threat, and my attitude towards it improved a lot. These days, I manage both the depression and the diabetes reasonably well, and I don't waste much time worrying about them.

That leaves the ME. I hate it with a passion. It affects everything I do every day. It makes me feel idle, stupid, ill and incapable. It bothers me far more than any of the conditions I have described, even if you add them all together.

BUT - the bloody thing is invisible. I can't really describe it to non-sufferers. 'I'm tired a lot, and I ache a lot' begins to describe it, but it goes so much further than that.

It's cost me my job, and in my dealings with the benefits system I'm left in little doubt that the system considers me to be a cheat and a liar.

After a while, self-doubt becomes a real issue. You begin to wonder if you are subject to delusions, or you have turned into an unscrupled scrounger.

And then, out of the blue, comes a ray of hope. Here's a link to a post from ChronicallyME that captures my response to this news.

Suddenly, it seems my illness is a serious, grown-up illness caused by a retrovirus. The doubters have lost. The pseudo-psychiatrists are routed. I'm not dreaming this, I'm not a self-deluding layabout, I'm actually really and properly bloody ill!

Henhouse horror

2009-09-22T12:59:00.006+01:00

I keep a few bantam hens in a run at the end of the garden. They lay beautiful little eggs that are so much nicer than shop ones, and they are endearing creatures. They are very much a sociable species, and their interactions and behaviour can be a hoot. Bantam keeping is a good ME hobby, generally requiring no great commitment in time or effort.

But, this last weekend I noticed that the ladies had little visitors in the coop - the dreaded red mite. These tiny bloodsuckers breed very quickly, and affected poultry can weaken and perish in very short order. Much frantic cleaning followed, and an amount of creosote was sloshed onto the house. The creosote had been sitting in the back of my shed for years. Nowadays, creosote cannot be legally sold to householders as it is considered to be carcinogenic. However, whilst householders cannot buy creosote in 5 litre batches, it remains legal to sell the stuff to professional users in quantities greater than 20 litres. Confused? I know that I am.

Creosote kills red mite, so my problem is over, and the legalities really don't bother me.

Proofreading

2009-09-22T12:50:00.005+01:00

Sorry for the absence, but life on my side of the screen has been rather hectic of late. Foiled house moves, health issues and life in general have all conspired to keep me otherwise occupied.

In any event, I hope I've hit on an idea (hat tip to my sister here) that might allow me to generate something of an income whilst leaving me able to cope with the ME. I'm planning to train as a proofreader, through a distance learning course offered by Dumfries College, and a day-long course in Edinburgh; I hope this will offer some networking possibilities.

I'm really quite enthusiastic about this idea; I can work from home at times I set myself. My previous job contained a degree of the work, and I'm a pernickety old pedant about language.

I don't like cricket - I love it!

2009-08-24T20:03:00.003+01:00

What an amazing four days of cricket at the Oval, ending in an England win that was very hard to foresee after the Headingley debacle. England played with real fire - it was a joy to behold. Please let it not be another false dawn!

On the sporting front, big respect to Jess Ennis as well for her heptathlon win in Berlin. It's always good to see fellow Yorkshire folk getting on, and I love the fact that she speaks exactly like the Sheffield branch of my family - it's not an accent I hear too often in Fife!

Kenny MacAskill's Dilemna

2009-08-20T16:09:00.005+01:00

I try not to stray into politics, but the cant and hypocrisy flying around today drove me to this.

Any decision the Scottish Government's Justice Minister reached in the case of the Lockerbie bomber was going to be criticised from one direction or another.

Watching Megrahi board his plane stuck in the craw - but the decision to let him do so was was right and brave. Megrahi showed no compassion - the destruction of all those lives was an act of callous cowardice; we need waste no time expecting compassion from mass murderers. The vast majority of the people of Scotland, however, are good people, and Mr MacAskill represented that characteristic in reaching his decision - to do the right thing, even if it is likely to prove unpopular. Doing the right thing isn't always easy.

Ultimately, we will not beat the killers, terrorists and the callous by behaving like them - we must behave better than them and show an example. Mr MacAskill has done this today.

Well done, Mr MacAskill - I hope you are able to end this difficult day relaxed and happy, you deserve to. Have a good dinner, a nice whisky and a good night's sleep.

Mr Megrahi does not deserve his freedom, and I wish him no joy in it, although I hope it is some comfort to his family. Meanwhile, he had better prepare to meet his Maker. I trust he does not have long to wait.

Dundee's new V & A

2009-08-18T12:59:00.008+01:00

Subrosa has posted today about the plans to build a branch of the V & A near to the Discovery in Dundee.

Dundee is a town with a very unfair reputation in some circles. In fact, it has one of Britain's finest theatre companies at the Rep, the McManus Gallery is well worth visiting, and there's the DCA. The view from the Law is fantastic, and Camperdown Park is a joy. It is home to musicians from The View to Michael Marra, let alone the friends of this blog's son - The Hazey Janes. Dundee has a fine collection of unspoilt pubs, and I recommend The Phoenix, The Speedwell (Mennie's), and The Fishermans Tavern as three of the finest pubs in Britain.

Dundee is great - go and see.

Opera 10 - some geekery

2009-08-18T12:29:00.004+01:00

My hit counter tells me that most people accessing this site do so using the Internet Explorer, Firefox or Safari browsers. All have their strengths and weaknesses. IE is famously prone to malign interference, Firefox gets very slow if you load it up with the features that are its selling point, Safari I only know as the nuisance download I have to refuse every time I update iTunes, and it certainly used to have a name for insecurity.

The cool kids use the Norwegian contender - Opera - it's fast, light on computer resources and free. Lots of the newer features on other browsers first saw the light of day in Opera.

Here's a link to the Opera 10 beta

and

Here's a link to the current stable release version

Give it a try - there are versions for most operating systems.

A new follower!

2009-08-14T22:35:00.000+01:00

Hi Jamie!

Les Paul

2009-08-14T16:45:00.006+01:00

You can read the history of the man here:

All I can say is that the world of music has , albeit at a ripe old age, lost one of its guiding lights.

This is the man who gave us the Gibson guitar that bears his name, the glorious-looking, creamy toned or snarling brute of an instrument - the Les Paul. (The Holy Grail for collectors is the 1959 Les Paul Standard Flametop - which, if you could find one, would cost you $250,000- $300,000 in the US)

Here's some creamy toned Les Paul sound:

Here's some snarling brute Les Paul, courtesy of Mr Page:

And here is Mr Paul himself, playing one he made earlier, being joined by Chet Atkins part way through:

Goodbye and thank you, Les Paul.

Another song about a wedding

2009-08-11T17:36:00.001+01:00

Emmylou, with Albert Lee on guitar - enjoy.

It ain't me, Babe

2009-08-11T16:48:00.001+01:00

Some more Bob for you, doubting his ability to be someone's rock, like we all do.

Autumn

2009-08-11T08:49:00.007+01:00

In these northern climes, August carries strong hints of autumn. The days start to grow noticeably shorter, the swifts leave for Africa (they left Ceres last week), the crops ripen and harvest begins.

Frosts, the tangy smells of willow at leaf-fall and of wood smoke, and the evocative sounds of skeins of geese will soon be with us. The early part of autumn, up until the clocks go back in late October, is one of my favourite times of year. We often used to take Jemima D out for the October school half-holiday, enjoying the peace of the waterways after the summer heat and bustle. In early October, you could be alone on the canal, half-hidden in ghostly mists. The boat's wood burning stove kept us warm in the evenings, and all was well with the world.

John Keats - To Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, -
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

A wee joke for youse

2009-08-09T20:14:00.000+01:00

A wee wummin goes intae the butchers, who is standing with his back against a small electric heater, she looks at the display case of meats and says " is that yer ayrshire bacon?" the butcher reply's "Naw! just heatin ma haunds!!!