Celestial Dreams: Solemn Hope

Solemn Hope

Darkness surrounds
Fear’s fallen shadow
Silent screams
Curdle inner turmoil
Fermenting
Tormenting
Spiting the light

But light
Strikes through the darkness
And no matter how dark
Even the tiniest glimmer
No matter how dark
Shows the way forward
Shows the way through
And gives power to hope

March 2020: Health Update

As it’s abundantly clear that I’m not making a big song and dance over the fact that I’ve now surpassed the 3000 post mark here on Beyond the Sphere, I thought I’d give a quick health update. Nothing to do with the coronavirus or anything like that, I hasten to add; this is a Feel Good blog after all.

Long time visitors may remember in November 2019 I came down with Bell’s palsy, and lost all movement on the right-side of my face. And as I was recovering from that, I was hit by a car driven by a raving lunatic (and that is the last I’ll mention of that in this post!).

I’m pleased to say I now have full movement in all of my face once again. It wasn’t really paralysed for that long, being honest. I made sure I got myself plenty of rest, and took the prescribed steroid medication as prescribed. I was also given tablets to reduce my blood pressure, as on the day I was undergoing checks in hospital (they had to make sure I hadn’t had a stroke) my blood pressure was through the roof.

On the whole, I’m generally quite healthy. I get colds and hayfever and a strange itchy skin every now and again, but I can handle them, and otherwise I’m generally OK. I feel fine, and felt fine even with the facial paralysis. I am overweight, however, which can cause a few issues.

I was sent for a blood pressure 24 hour test shortly after getting the movement in my face back, and the clinician took my blood pressure before fitting me with the monitor. “That’s high!” she exclaimed. “Bloody high in fact!”. I could actually feel it rise even more at those words, as the clinician covered her mouth with a subdued “Oops.” She had to get somebody else into the room to take a manual reading, and give a second opinion, which was pretty much the same. My blood pressure then was 205 over 115.

If you aren’t sure what the numbers mean in a blood pressure reading, I’ll quickly give a brief explanation. The reading is actually two measurements, one of which is the highest pressure when the heart pushes blood out. This is the first number in the reading and is called the Systolic pressure. The second number in the reading is the Diastolic pressure, and this is the lowest pressure when the heart rests between beats. Both numbers are measuring the millimetres of mercury (mmHg). Ideal blood pressure readings are between 90/60 mmHg and 120/80 mmHg. 140/90 and over is considered high blood pressure.

Smoking, drinking too much alcohol, being overweight and not getting enough exercise all contribute to high blood pressure, as does consuming too much salt. I don’t smoke or drink, but I fitted comfortably in the last three categories. And at 205/115 mmHg it is safe to say my blood pressure was high in those readings.

It turns out my blood pressure was slightly higher than the ‘good’ range, but it was inflated as I have a condition called White Coat Syndrome, or White Coat Hypertension. What this means is that whenever I’m around a doctor, or clinician, or in that kind of environment, by blood pressure is phenomenally higher than what it really is. The 24 hour reading revealed that my blood pressure was 154/95.

My doctor told me to get more exercise, watch my food portion sizes and eat more healthily, cut down on salts and sugars, and try to get my blood pressure to 140/90 or below. He said I will feel a lot better without the need for taking medication for lowering blood pressure if I did this. This was in the first week in January.

Since then, I have heeded my doctors advice. I’ve drastically reduced the amount of salt I eat, as well as fats and sugars. I eat plenty of fresh fruit and vegetables, and make sure I exercise daily. I mainly do thirty minutes of running on the spot each morning, plus a few other stretching exercises in the evenings every other day.

This work, I’m pleased to say has definitely started to pay off. I still have quite a way to go, but I know I’ll get there. I’m enjoying what I eat (which I will admit slightly filled me with dread at the very beginning!)

When I first started this new regime, on 11th January 2020, I weighed 17 stone 12 pounds (250 pounds or 113.4 kilos). Today, March 7th, I’m 16 stone 4 pounds (228 pounds or 103.4 kilos). Which means I’ve currently lost 1 stone 8 pounds (22 pounds or 10 kilos). In writing the numbers don’t look much, but I measure my weight every morning and record the scores on the doors on a spreadsheet, and then convert it into a chart. I think it looks quite impressive:

I’ve hit a few plateaus along the way, and there have been quite a few ups and downs with the weight, but generally it is moving in a nice downwards direction.

So, that’s the end of this little, and most probably boring, health update. I’m still rotund, only not as rotund as I was, and my clothes are hanging off me just a tad. I’m not going to buy any thin clothes until I’ve reached the point where I want to reach. Right now, I’m not sure where that is yet, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself just yet.

I’m taking each day in turn. Enjoying my transformation. And still checking my blood pressure weekly. Ooh – my blood pressure today was 115/82. Which is classed as being in the ‘good’ range, but not ideal. The 115 is ideal, but I still need to work a little on the 82.

I am a work in progress.

We all are really. It’s life. But we can and do have control over our bodies if we focus and work a little harder.

And see… not one mention of my reaching 3000 posts on this blog. I’m not one to make a big song and dance out of such a thing.

A Different Landscape

different kind landscape

 

Stars above vanish
As the future changes shape
A new beginning

A quick scribble and jotted words to celebrate the fact that the Brexit saga finally comes to an end. The United Kingdom leaves the European Union at 11pm tonight, 31st January 2020. Although we are still kind of in it until the end of the year, with little say on the matter, today’s the day we officially go it alone. Again.

We’re gone. Now it’s time to move forwards and show what a great nation we are. Squabbles permitting.

Keeping Calm and Carrying On (2)

I do not believe it!

I’m sat here, covered in flour after being batted back and to like a ball in a five hour round of tennis. Round of tennis? Match? Set? Game? Bah! Anyway, I digress.

For years, possibly centuries it seems that long, the local councils around here – and transport corporations (as they were known before they all became private bus companies) – have been building secret subterranean tunnels. Tunnels to speed up travel between towns and cities. Not like the existing underground railway systems that are dotted about, but something rather clever, if it would work.

After all these millennia of planning, the work was completed, in secret, last week, and today was the day that a select group of specially selected guests were asked to take part in the trial maiden voyage.

And yours truly was one of those lucky winners.

I had my instructions to meet at a railway station in Liverpool at 8:50am this morning. Not a minute earlier, not a minute later.

Have you ever tried to get somewhere at exactly the time you have to be there? Not an easy feat by any stretch of the imagination – especially as you aren’t allowed to be early. However, I managed it with aplomb.

As soon as I arrived, I was greeted by two men in black with dark hats and sunglasses. A tall one, and a short one.

“Come with us, Tom.” Short said. Long gestured for me to follow Short. I was led out of the train station and into an awaiting stretched limo. Four other groups also arrived at the same time – each consisting of a normal person and two men in black.

An elderly lady with a full shopping bag smiled at me. She was escorted by Round and Bulky. A smartly-dressed young man with a fringe that would give anyone’s a run for their money was flanked by Spotty and Muscles. A sinister looking older gent wearing a long trench coat and sporting a fine dark moustache just above his lip was led to the limo by Lanky and Smiler, and a librarian-headmistress-type woman with pointed spectacles and hair tied up into a tight bun was with Thor and Boyband Member.

A woman in black then graced out of the limo as she couldn’t step as her pencil skirt was too tight. She looked like the boss, as she had a clipboard.

“Allo” Pencilskirt said, in a French accent. (I’ll not continue with the French accent from now on!) “Welcome to Consortium Travel, the new, economic, and fastest, cleanest and safest way to travel… ever!” She was very proud. “You have been specially selected to be our first passengers! Well done!”

At that, a trio of three more people, still dressed in black, and playing musical instruments that looked (and sounded) similar to kazoos appeared. They were playing some kind of version of Rule Britannia, and were promptly ushered away when they’d finished.

A quick flash of light revealed the presence of a photographer, and he too was escorted away by Thor and Spotty.

“I will be your travel guide.” Pencilskirt announced. “Quickly now, into the car. The pod leaves at oh nine twenty-one hours.” She slid back into the car, and was followed quickly by the elderly lady, headmistress, fringe, me and the sinister man.

We were then sped through the streets of Liverpool, somehow avoiding the jams of rush hour traffic, and arrived in the middle of a field at 09:05. We were at some kind of bus stop.

Pencilskirt ushered us all out of the limo, and asked that we stood in line at the bus stop, on the white concrete surface. Once we were all in position, the ground shook, and we were lowered to some kind of (pretty impressive looking) rail terminal. In front of us, our carriage was in.

Well, more of a white oval pod, without windows, but it was there.

“Please, enter!” Pencilskirt batted her clipboard in the direction of an oval shaped door in the side.

We all made our way in, and the interior was quite similar to a bus, with three rows of seats on one side – the side opposite the door. They all faced the same way, and they had those bars on them that buses have.

I sat next to the elderly lady on the front seat. She had nowhere to put her shopping bag, but there was plenty of room in front of her, so she placed it on the floor. Behind us sat headmistress and fringe, with Pencilskirt and the sinister man taking up the back seat.

“Sit and relax!” Pencilskirt announced. “One minute until the first official launch! We are now in Liverpool, and in twelve minutes we will be in Blaenau Ffestiniog, in Wales.”

We sat and waited. And true enough, when the minute was up we felt the pod vibrate. We gently shuddered forward. And then felt our stomachs fling to our backs as we were catapulted forwards at great speeds along this (hopefully tested!) underground tunnel.

About five minutes into the ‘journey’ we jolted backwards – suddenly, once again -and a bag of flour launched itself out of the old lady’s shopping bag and flew with some vigour into the front of the pod. It exploded on impact with an almighty ‘poompf!’, just as we jolted forwards for a second time.

“Me flour!” bellowed the old lady.

I couldn’t help but laugh as we were all covered in this white powdery dust. I looked behind, and fringe had what looked like a ledge full of the stuff on his forehead. He smirked when he told me that all he could see on my face was my eyes. Headmistress couldn’t see a thing as she had to wipe away the flour from her glasses, but she too was tittering. The sinister man at the back and Pencilskirt, although dusted, weren’t as badly affected as the rest of us. The sinister man didn’t flinch. Pencilskirt muttered something in French as she was scribbling away on her clipboard.

When the dust settled, we realised that we’d stopped moving.

Pencilskirt stood and walked to the front of the pod. She lifted a telephone receiver, and wiped and then blew away the flour.

“Allo!” She said, in French. “Can you confirm we are in Blaenau Ffestiniog?”, in English this time.

Silence.

“Ah” we heard her say. The elderly lady glanced sideways toward me and whispered “Not looking good, is it?” I had to laugh again as this dear old lady looked a picture with flour dripping out of her white hair, with finger marks smeared across her cheeks as she’d tried, rather unsuccessfully, to clear the flour from her face. She looked at my cardigan and then back at my dots for eyes. “When you get home, you’ll have to give that a rinse through.” she said, being as helpful as she could.

“Here,” Headmistress said to both the old lady and me, “have a wet wipe.”

“Where?” we heard Pencilskirt shout. “Milford Haven!?! We’ve overshot by 130 miles!”

I checked the time. It was now 9.35am, and we’d travelled all the way to South Wales in literally almost the blink of an eye. We couldn’t see it, as we were in a windowless pod, and underground, but we did feel like we’d been travelling with some pelt.

“I must apologise,” Pencilskirt actually started to look comical now as well, as one side of her was white with flour, the other untouched. She was looking a little stressed. She went on: “We’ve had a bit of a technical hitch. We will return to Liverpool, and postpone this trial run until a later date. You all will be invited to attend again.”

We all just looked at each other, not one of us uttered a thing.

“Please, sit back, and enjoy the home journey back to Liverpool.”

And as the saying goes, ‘famous last words’. We spent the next five hours or so being flung the length and breadth of the country at breakneck speeds.

10:02 we’d overshot Liverpool and ended up in Aberdeen.

10:27 we’d overshot Liverpool again on the way back, and ended up in Exeter.

10:50 we were in Newcastle-upon-Tyne.

11:15 – Salisbury. 11:35 – Glasgow. 12:10 Southampton. 12:30 Edinburgh. 12:55 London. 13:27 Dundee. 13:49 Ipswich. 14:15 Blaenau Ffestiniog (we all cheered when we arrived there – even the sinister man!)  and at 14:47, dizzy and slightly dehydrated, we finally got back to Liverpool. Well, under the field somewhere outside of Liverpool, but that was near enough.

Due to all of the friction caused by all of the exertion (apparently these pods are designed for only four journeys a day) it had gotten rather hot. Fringe now looked more like a matted Cousin Itt, and we could all feel the flour starting to bake on us. The sinister man summed it up when he said “We’re lucky that the eggs, butter and sugar didn’t hurl themselves at the wall as well, or we could have all become like sultanas in a giant cake mix.”

We mustered a laugh, but were shattered.

Pencilskirt helped us all out of the pod, and up to the limo. She got in first, with none of the grace from earlier, and we all clambered in after her.

Very kindly, the firm drove us all home, after making arrangements for our own vehicles to be picked up and shipped home also.

And that brings us to now.

I still can’t get this flour off completely, but it’s going gradually. I’m getting over it now, but like I said at the beginning… I do not believe it! You couldn’t make it up.

I don’t think I’ll be going next time, though. I think I’d rather be stuck in traffic.

(From the archives)

Into the Light

Into the light I walked
Through darkness all around
The mouth of the tunnel ahead
Revealed the rockiest of ground
But all the way through
The pathway was clear
And I knew in my heart
That the light
Was always near