Despite my ineptitude over chemistry (in one end of year exam at school I could answer none of the questions. I was given one mark out of 50 for spelling my name correctly!) I have long known that oxygen is vital to human life. It does, after all, form part of the air that we breathe. All the same, it is only quite recently that I have come to appreciate some of the seemingly miraculous qualities of this gas.
I have a cousin who suffers from multiple sclerosis and, several years ago, she regularly attended her nearest MS treatment centre where she would spend an hour in what can only be described as a tank akin to a diving bell. Here she would receive a high dose of oxygen. Although there is no cure for MS, this high dosage oxygen treatment has been found to alleviate some of the problems associated with the condition.
This was brought to mind, oh, it must be three years ago now. There is an MS treatment centre in a nearby town, the only one is Sussex. Like all the other such centres across the country, this is a charity and receives no state funding: none of the centres are part of the National Health Service. Our local centre had a financial problem which came to the attention of Brighton Lions Club. We quickly offered help, both financial (if it should prove necessary) and practical, in suggesting a way out of the problem they had. The suggestion proved successful so our money was not needed at that time. However, it soon was as the centre had plans for extending and refurbishing. As I was then president of Brighton Lions I had the honour of making the presentation. With the other Lions who attended, I was given a tour of the centre, including the diving bell. The centre manager explained that the bell was used for more than MS sufferers: for example, professional footballers from Brighton & Hove Albion received high dosage oxygen treatment after injury and it was believed that this speeded up their recovery. I emntioned that my wife had recently been diagnosed as suffering from a condition known as corticobasal degeneration. Did the manager think she might benefit? He did. The Old Bat agreed to a series of trial treatments and has been going back once a week ever since.
The range of illnesses and conditions that can be alleviated by this treatment is quite amazing, although many in the medical profession are highly sceptical. MS (of course), Alzheimer's, autism, any form of injury, surgery: the list is quite astonishing.
Now, I'm not averse to taking drugs when I really need them. I don't much like stuffing man-made chemicals into my body and put off doing so as long as I reasonably can in the hope that nature will provide a cure, but I do think we have gone too far in rejecting nature's bounty. Yes, I do mean homeopathic medicine. The example of the oxygen tank, which is pooh-poohed even by MS specialists, is a good example.
Monday, 14 March 2011
Sunday, 13 March 2011
I could write a book
When I wrote Diamond Geezers, the history of the first sixty years of Brighton Lions Club, I was pleased to include a few personal reminiscences which, I hope, brought to life some of the events I described. I am convinced that, given the right circumstances, Lions and their wives could come up with enough stories to fill another book. What I really should do is get round to talking to all those people before it is too late. Some of our members have been in the club for over fifty years and they must have some intriguing stories locked away in their minds. They might need a bit of prodding to release the tales, but I shall have to draft a few questions that might prove to be the key and we could just chat while I record the conversations. A daughter of one of the older members has been closely involved with the activities of the club for many years and she remarked the other day that reading my book had reminded her of so many things she had forgotten. Amusing moments or occasions memorable for other reasons ought to be recorded for posterity. Like the one I recounted in Diamond Geezers. Some 50 or so children from socially disadvantaged families were taken to a town along the coast where they were turned loose in an activity centre. One little boy – only about 4' 6'' tall, but 10 years old – claimed he had been pushed into the pond by a duck. After consoling him, one of the Lions suggested he should sit in the sun for a while to dry off. No fear, he said. He was "going back to kill that b..... duck!"
Then there was the time I brought down the hospital ceiling. Until we became so entangled by red tape the Lions attended the Royal Sussex County Hospital two or three Sundays each month to take to the chapel patients who wanted to attend the service but were unable to get there under their own steam. They might be pushed through the corridors in wheelchairs or, on many occasions, in their beds. On one Sunday a patient I was returning to her bed had a drip attached and I was hanging onto the stand from which this was suspended at the same time as I pushed the wheelchair. We had to go up or down a floor so, naturally, I took the lift. When the doors opened I failed to notice that we were on the wrong floor and just pushed the chair out of the lift, complete with the drip on it's six-foot-plus high stand. What I also failed to notice was that there was a false ceiling in this corridor which was lower than the height of the drip stand. When I saw the damage I had caused I retreated into the lift and pressed another button very swiftly.
There is one story which, to my mind, says it all. It was another of those outings for disadvantaged children and on the coach home my wife was sitting next to a girl - again, about 10 or 11 - who shyly confided in her, ‘That's the first holiday I have ever had'.
Then there was the time I brought down the hospital ceiling. Until we became so entangled by red tape the Lions attended the Royal Sussex County Hospital two or three Sundays each month to take to the chapel patients who wanted to attend the service but were unable to get there under their own steam. They might be pushed through the corridors in wheelchairs or, on many occasions, in their beds. On one Sunday a patient I was returning to her bed had a drip attached and I was hanging onto the stand from which this was suspended at the same time as I pushed the wheelchair. We had to go up or down a floor so, naturally, I took the lift. When the doors opened I failed to notice that we were on the wrong floor and just pushed the chair out of the lift, complete with the drip on it's six-foot-plus high stand. What I also failed to notice was that there was a false ceiling in this corridor which was lower than the height of the drip stand. When I saw the damage I had caused I retreated into the lift and pressed another button very swiftly.
There is one story which, to my mind, says it all. It was another of those outings for disadvantaged children and on the coach home my wife was sitting next to a girl - again, about 10 or 11 - who shyly confided in her, ‘That's the first holiday I have ever had'.
Saturday, 12 March 2011
Scenic Saturday - Cheshire
Number 32 in the series.
Cheshire is, in some ways, the Surrey of the north. It is in this county that many of the highly paid people working in Manchester choose to live, especially the super-rich footballers.
For tourists, the obvious place to visit is the old Roman town of Chester on the banks of the River Dee. The main attraction for many is the Rows, 13th century covered walkways with shops at first floor level. Chester racecourse is the oldest in the country and it is still possible to walk round the city walls.
Macclesfield is centre of English silk-weaving while there are salt mines near Northwich. Although much of the estuary of the River Dee is now in Merseyside, some of this important area for ducks and wading birds remains in Cheshire.
Perhaps more even than in Shropshire, black and white 'Magpie' houses set in idyllic gardens typify the Cheshire countryside, Little Moreton Hall being one of the most spectacular.
Cheshire is, in some ways, the Surrey of the north. It is in this county that many of the highly paid people working in Manchester choose to live, especially the super-rich footballers.
For tourists, the obvious place to visit is the old Roman town of Chester on the banks of the River Dee. The main attraction for many is the Rows, 13th century covered walkways with shops at first floor level. Chester racecourse is the oldest in the country and it is still possible to walk round the city walls.
Macclesfield is centre of English silk-weaving while there are salt mines near Northwich. Although much of the estuary of the River Dee is now in Merseyside, some of this important area for ducks and wading birds remains in Cheshire.
Perhaps more even than in Shropshire, black and white 'Magpie' houses set in idyllic gardens typify the Cheshire countryside, Little Moreton Hall being one of the most spectacular.
Friday, 11 March 2011
We got squirrels, too
Not two but three! Not one of my better pictures. I snapped it quickly on a long zoom which should have been mounted on a tripod but there wasn't time.
Thursday, 10 March 2011
Phone scams
Yesterday, when I went to shut down the computer, there was one of those little thingies superimposed on the "off" logo (somehow the correct word has slipped right out of my mind) which means Bill Gates's boys want to send me a load of guff before switching my computer off. I wouldn't mind, but it always means my computer taking longer than usual to boot up the next time I want it - like this morning - and, believe me, usual is too long! Maybe I should take advantage of the next phone call I get telling me that there is a problem with my computer. These calls come at the rate of about one a week - the last one was on Tuesday - and purport to originate from a company (I've never caught the name) employed by Microsoft's technical department. The caller tells me that they have identified a problem with my computer and suggest I switch it on so they can rectify the matter. I'm getting quite fed up with these calls. They are quite obviously a scam of some kind and I suppose some people must fall for them or the people involved wouldn't keep making them. I have been contemplating having a bit of fun the next time such a call comes through. There are a number of possibilities that come to mind.
I could try something along the lines of, 'You sound a nice person. Will you be my friend? I need a friend and you sound just the sort of person who would make a very good friend.' That would likely get the phone put down pretty quickly but I could string it out for quite a while given the opportunity. (The Old Bat thinks it would likely get me arrested or something but I doubt it.)
Or I could try this. 'Sorry, what did you say your name was? Deborah? That's a very nice/unusual name. Why did your parents call you that? Was that a film star your mother/father had a crush on?' etc etc. Again, that should result in the phone being replaced in a rush.
Part of the trouble with these phone calls is that nobody makes a note of numbers not to call because of wierdo's like me who answer. It should be relatively easy to programme those numbers into the computer that generates the random calls - but nobody can be bothered. I'm pretty sure Jehovah's Witnesses have a system. We had them call quite frequently - until we acquired a large black dog. He was really very friendly and just wanted to greet callers with a slobbery kiss but when my teenage son answered the door hanging onto the dog's collar and saw JWs standing on the step, he didn't disabuse them. They retreated rapidly and we had no more calling for several years.
Perhaps I should invent some sort of virtual dog to send down the phone line to those scam callers. Or maybe I'll just keep saying, 'I know this is a scam and I'm not falling for it' before replacing my phone.
I could try something along the lines of, 'You sound a nice person. Will you be my friend? I need a friend and you sound just the sort of person who would make a very good friend.' That would likely get the phone put down pretty quickly but I could string it out for quite a while given the opportunity. (The Old Bat thinks it would likely get me arrested or something but I doubt it.)
Or I could try this. 'Sorry, what did you say your name was? Deborah? That's a very nice/unusual name. Why did your parents call you that? Was that a film star your mother/father had a crush on?' etc etc. Again, that should result in the phone being replaced in a rush.
Part of the trouble with these phone calls is that nobody makes a note of numbers not to call because of wierdo's like me who answer. It should be relatively easy to programme those numbers into the computer that generates the random calls - but nobody can be bothered. I'm pretty sure Jehovah's Witnesses have a system. We had them call quite frequently - until we acquired a large black dog. He was really very friendly and just wanted to greet callers with a slobbery kiss but when my teenage son answered the door hanging onto the dog's collar and saw JWs standing on the step, he didn't disabuse them. They retreated rapidly and we had no more calling for several years.
Perhaps I should invent some sort of virtual dog to send down the phone line to those scam callers. Or maybe I'll just keep saying, 'I know this is a scam and I'm not falling for it' before replacing my phone.
Wednesday, 9 March 2011
But for how long?
Yesterday I described a moment of magic when I was able to enjoy the solitude of the South Downs in utter silence. But how long will it be, I wonder, until most or even all that I could see is swallowed up by concrete and tarmac? England is the most crowded country in Europe and has the third highest population density of all major countries in the world. And the population is expected to continue its inexorable increase. This will, of course, give rise to greater demand for housing, schools, shops, hospitals. work places, roads etc etc.
If we take just the city of Brighton & Hove, we see that there is precious little room for any expansion. Quite obviously there is no room to the south, unless we manage to construct a city under the sea. Already the city has merged east and west into a conurbation that stretches from Seaford in the east to Bognor Regis in the west with just small pockets of green space here and there. Before the Second World War there was virtually no development north of the Old Shoreham Road and people considered that to be a natural block to any further building. Since then, however, Mile Oak, Hangleton and West Blatchington have increased in size exponentially, as have Coldean, Bevendean, Woodingdean and Saltdean. The hope nowadays is that the Brighton bypass will mark the northern extent of building, especially now that the South Downs have been designated a National Park.
There was a time when all major towns in England were surrounded by green belts, stretches of open countryside on which development was to be very strictly controlled. But little by little, developers have nibbled into those green belts. Just when, I ask myself, will the process stop?
I suppose the answer to that question is, When the demand for housing etc is satisfied. Which only leads to another question, How can the demand be satisfied if the population continues to grow? This, of course, leads into very troubled waters. Should our Government put a stop to all immigration? (They can't without pulling out of the EU since all EU citizens have a right to live in any EU country so we have Poles, Romanians et al coming here in the hope of a better life.) What about the Chinese solution, limiting families to one child? I can't see that going down too well.
All in all it's a very tricky problem. I'm just glad that it's not one I have to deal with as a politician. Meanwhile, I shall make the most of what countryside we have left while I have the chance.
If we take just the city of Brighton & Hove, we see that there is precious little room for any expansion. Quite obviously there is no room to the south, unless we manage to construct a city under the sea. Already the city has merged east and west into a conurbation that stretches from Seaford in the east to Bognor Regis in the west with just small pockets of green space here and there. Before the Second World War there was virtually no development north of the Old Shoreham Road and people considered that to be a natural block to any further building. Since then, however, Mile Oak, Hangleton and West Blatchington have increased in size exponentially, as have Coldean, Bevendean, Woodingdean and Saltdean. The hope nowadays is that the Brighton bypass will mark the northern extent of building, especially now that the South Downs have been designated a National Park.
There was a time when all major towns in England were surrounded by green belts, stretches of open countryside on which development was to be very strictly controlled. But little by little, developers have nibbled into those green belts. Just when, I ask myself, will the process stop?
I suppose the answer to that question is, When the demand for housing etc is satisfied. Which only leads to another question, How can the demand be satisfied if the population continues to grow? This, of course, leads into very troubled waters. Should our Government put a stop to all immigration? (They can't without pulling out of the EU since all EU citizens have a right to live in any EU country so we have Poles, Romanians et al coming here in the hope of a better life.) What about the Chinese solution, limiting families to one child? I can't see that going down too well.
All in all it's a very tricky problem. I'm just glad that it's not one I have to deal with as a politician. Meanwhile, I shall make the most of what countryside we have left while I have the chance.
Tuesday, 8 March 2011
England, my England
Yesterday was a gorgeous day weatherwise with wall to wall sunshine and just a faint breeze. Admittedly, that was coming from the wrong quarter - north-east - but it was fairly gentle, even on the top of the Downs. That was where I took Fern for a walk in the afternoon. I drove out through Falmer and past the university sports ground in the direction of St Mary's farm before parking in a layby and heading uphill across the Downs towards Plumpton. I spent a couple of minutes watching a pilot practising aerobatics - including loop the loop and victory rolls - before he headed off away to the west. With young lambs playing - the first I have seen this year - it felt almost as though spring had arrived at last.
This is a there-and-back walk for me. It would be possible to make a circular walk of it but that would take much more time than I usually have. Coming back down the hill I caught a few tentative notes of a skylark's song and then there was complete silence: no sheep or lambs bleating, no cattle lowing, no birds singing, no aircraft, no traffic. That's not something that happens very often in this crowded corner of our island. There was not even a wind rustling the branches of the few stunted hawthorn trees. The Downs were spread out behind me and to both sides as far as I could see while in front of me were a few of the taller buildings in Brighton silhouetted against a brightly sparkling sea which looked for all the world just like silver. Even the new football stadium was hidden from my view. It was a magical moment when I could enjoy the beauty of the England I love.
This is a there-and-back walk for me. It would be possible to make a circular walk of it but that would take much more time than I usually have. Coming back down the hill I caught a few tentative notes of a skylark's song and then there was complete silence: no sheep or lambs bleating, no cattle lowing, no birds singing, no aircraft, no traffic. That's not something that happens very often in this crowded corner of our island. There was not even a wind rustling the branches of the few stunted hawthorn trees. The Downs were spread out behind me and to both sides as far as I could see while in front of me were a few of the taller buildings in Brighton silhouetted against a brightly sparkling sea which looked for all the world just like silver. Even the new football stadium was hidden from my view. It was a magical moment when I could enjoy the beauty of the England I love.
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