Hello my Dear Old Blog,
Its been awhile eh?
Since Chapter 25 so much has happened,
In January of this year my dear friend and lifetime judo coach Don Werner died.
I had time to prepare myself for this as he was diagnosed with a terminal illness some months before, knowing in advance however did not diminish the whirl of emotion when the time arrived.
He truly was a giant of a man and the force of his personality remains an almost physical force within the club he built.
His final decline was a bitter sweet experience for me, I supported him during the final months of his life
with his coaching. He stubbornly refused to concede an inch to his illness, only leaving the mat when he was forced into hospital for treatment.
This period gave me an opportunity to watch him more closely than I ever had whilst being coached by him and also deepened my friendship with him.
He was a true maverick to the very end, challenging the status quo, questioning anything and happy to share his opinions (which he argued with force if anyone disagreed).
On occasions I found myself defending an opposing view and after delivering both barrels at me, I was often left with his wry smile and the feeling that he enjoyed the verbal combat almost as much as he enjoyed judo
.
If anything I think my tendency to speak up when I disagreed strengthened our relationship as it gave more weight to my agreement which was probably 95% of the time.
The greatest honour he ever paid me was on the occasions that he sought my opinion.
At various times whilst he was stuck in hospital I found myself a conduit for messages, in both directions.
These underlined for me what a huge impact he had on so many lives, it became apparent that whilst there were many recurring themes, each of us had our own unique version of him, almost tailored to our specific needs, and sometimes at odds with other peoples versions of him.
The truth I suppose, is that each of us look through our own lens at the world and these lenses are the result
of our own life experience.
It is strange to consider that we must on this basis, accept that there are other versions of ourselves, being held simultaneously by the people we know.... one ill chosen joke, a slight, or a forgotten kindness might see us cast in a role we had never intended, or been aware of.
Towards the end Don asked me if I would continue his work at the club, this is the biggest challenge of my life so far and if I considered the implications of getting it wrong I doubt I would sleep at night.
I was the first substantial disappointment in his coaching career when I quit at 20 without having the courage to even try and explain why. Ten long years later I re-started judo and have finally got the chance to try and repay this debt to him. I am grateful that I had the opportunity to make this promise to him at the end of his life.
No thoughts of my David Moyse to his Alex Ferguson can be allowed to cross my mind.
Well meaning but misguided people have suggested that I have a difficult task in matching his accomplishments, this demonstrates a lack of understanding on their part.
A short appreciation of what he achieved in his long career makes it clear that I would be a vainglorious fool to imagine I could even get close.
I would have to have to live to 150 to stand half a chance!
What I am doing is what he told me to do..... my best.
In Chapter 25 I was cautiously hoping that my MG was over, I stopped my steroids and delayed the start of the immune suppressant drug that I had been prescribed as the potential side effects looked like a rival to the disease itself. I was as objective as possible as I waited and watched for returning symptoms. I was anxious to avoid undoing all of the good work achieved by 'Sir' Richard of Armstrong my hero and neurologist.
Four months or so later and there it was the familiar drooping eyelid... just a trace but definitely there.
Damm.... so a short blast of steroids and then on with the new stuff (Azathioprine) a ramped dose that increased daily until reaching 250mg. Another inconvenience with this regime is that I have to have regular blood tests and am susceptible to infection like the whitlow on my left thumb that started to look like some kind of Ebola virus. As my supply of Aza (to its friends) had run out I stopped taking it again and within a couple of weeks the infection subsided perhaps as a consequence of my immune system climbing back off of it's arse.
God this blog is boring me!
So lets get to a funny bit eh?
Did I tell you about the time that having got a new pack of Aza I restarted at my full daily dose?
A couple of hours later feeling nauseous I had to visit a toilet in a local school.
I had just delivered a judo lesson there,
you didn't think I left my house in order to use a local school toilet?
You are sick sooooo sick!
as WAS I!
a horizontal column of projectile vomit fired from me with echoes of 'The Exorcist'.
This was followed in short succession by what looked for all the world like a jug of brown windsor soup that fired from my arse at a rate that I'm sure sucked my eyes backwards.
I was in need of a swivel chair in front of the WC as I span in a frenzy of expelling bodily fluids.
This was a weight loss plan to be respected and I assumed that it was some chicken that I had eaten at lunchtime.
Fearing that my wife or daughter might share the same fate I rang them from the club warning them that the chicken should be avoided at all costs.
My reluctance to take the Aza meant that I then lapsed for another couple of weeks before taking..... you guessed it a full daily dose.
This time the nausea struck at an even less opportune moment...
I was meeting with Don's daughter, son and grand daughter in order to spread his ashes in woodland behind the club.
To my credit (Don would have been proud) I managed this with great self control, but as we returned to the cafe Kerry examined the menu with her daughter, the final straw proved to be a discussion around the pineapple beef burger.
This was more than I could handle and as my mouth filled with saliva I made an excuse and ran for the door.
Shortly after this I was scattering the woods and spattering my judo trousers with my recently ingested tomato soup.
Now running short of time I left to drive to a judo lesson and was forced to stop on the way for yet more vomiting, this time at the roadside.
By this point I was incredulous at how much I seemed able to expel and began to wonder whether my intestines might soon be on their way out of my mouth.
Arriving like a scarecrow at the school and wearing spare blue judo trousers with my white jacket I managed about 20 minutes before some kind of deep volcanic gurgle announced part 2.
Leaving the poor bemused children with a muttered excuse I made my way to the very same toilet, positioned in the reception (what insane space planner thought that was a good idea)?
As I recreated the toilet scene from 'Dumb and Dumber' I was praying (and i'm an Atheist) that there would be no one waiting to use the toilet...
Which of course there was, God help them......
(and I'm an Atheist)!
So as I sit here fully hydrated and illuminated by the light of my puter screen, I'm still avoiding the cure and praying
(and I'm an Atheist)
that the disease leaves me alone for a while at least.
Lets not leave it so long next time Blog it was soooooo nice to catch up.
Friday, 30 May 2014
Saturday, 21 December 2013
Chapter 25
Hello again old friend,
It's been a while eh?
I have been reluctant to post anything over the last few weeks particularly as this blog,
in name at least, is supposed to centre on my MG and I have been holding my breath (not literally of course, that would be silly).
Back in October my neurologist, Richard, explained that my progress on the steroid treatment had been good and that I was ready to enter the next phase of my treatment,
this was to involve a steady decrease of my steroid dose, whilst I began taking a new immunosuppressant drug (also used in chemotherapy).
Richard is, as I have already explained a warm and hugely capable person but,
like most capable people he is under huge pressure of work.
Consequently the prescription for this new drug took some weeks to get to me.
Once I had the prescription and the new drug, I looked with interest at the possible side effects (of which he had warned me).
The possibility of serious side effects, coupled with the frequency of necessary blood tests, gave me pause for thought.
I had begun to suspect that the physical effects that I was experiencing maybe a result of the steroids I was taking rather than the disease and that I might be in a remission.
I then decided on a course of action that may seem foolhardy (if you read this please forgive me Richard).
It struck me that if this disease was for life, I could afford to reduce the steroid dose and see what effect it had, I began to do this over a period of a couple of weeks until about 4 weeks ago when I stopped entirely
and waited......
and waited......
and waited.....
and (thats enough we get the picture thanks Ed.)
Sofa so good (or is that Land of Leather)
Without any trace of a symptom, I regularly forget that I had (have) this disease,
and occasionally, like now, I perform a kind of mental stock take....
Droopy eyelid? No
Weakness in my neck or shoulders? No
Any difficulty in breathing/swallowing? No
I am very strict with this evaluation as it would be easy to overlook something subconsciously
in the hope that I am in remission.
I am aware that there will presumably be some residual steroid in my body and that this may still working, however given that I reduced the dose to zero before stopping I cannot imagine that this could be the case for much longer.
One thing that I have noticed is the steroid mania that gave rise to many machine gun style monologues
has left me.....
I actually miss it but doubt if anyone else does!
The new direct way of approaching issues that this gave me however, is still there and this is a
a relief because I feared this maybe only a temporary chemical advantage.
If I wake up tomorrow with the tell tale droopy eyelid I suppose I have at least enjoyed a brief holiday from it and I shall have to resume where I left off, in the knowledge that if it is a lifetime disease I have only lost a couple of months. The conversation with Richard maybe embarrassing though!
" You did WHAT!"
I thought it might be a good idea to stop the carefully considered treatment programme that you had
me on.
" So you decided this based on WHAT EXACTLY"?
It just felt like I might be better.
Mmmmm put like that......
Faced with the possibility that I am one of the lucky people that go into remission
I shall soon have no excuse left to avoid serious training.
When I consider how fit I was back in June when this hit the fan it really does feel like a mountain
to climb from where I am now, but it will be nice to make a start charting my route to base camp.
What will I discuss on here without MG.......
how about this nasty rash on my scrotum?
HAPPY CHRISTMAS!
It's been a while eh?
I have been reluctant to post anything over the last few weeks particularly as this blog,
in name at least, is supposed to centre on my MG and I have been holding my breath (not literally of course, that would be silly).
Back in October my neurologist, Richard, explained that my progress on the steroid treatment had been good and that I was ready to enter the next phase of my treatment,
this was to involve a steady decrease of my steroid dose, whilst I began taking a new immunosuppressant drug (also used in chemotherapy).
Richard is, as I have already explained a warm and hugely capable person but,
like most capable people he is under huge pressure of work.
Consequently the prescription for this new drug took some weeks to get to me.
Once I had the prescription and the new drug, I looked with interest at the possible side effects (of which he had warned me).
The possibility of serious side effects, coupled with the frequency of necessary blood tests, gave me pause for thought.
I had begun to suspect that the physical effects that I was experiencing maybe a result of the steroids I was taking rather than the disease and that I might be in a remission.
I then decided on a course of action that may seem foolhardy (if you read this please forgive me Richard).
It struck me that if this disease was for life, I could afford to reduce the steroid dose and see what effect it had, I began to do this over a period of a couple of weeks until about 4 weeks ago when I stopped entirely
and waited......
and waited......
and waited.....
and (thats enough we get the picture thanks Ed.)
Sofa so good (or is that Land of Leather)
Without any trace of a symptom, I regularly forget that I had (have) this disease,
and occasionally, like now, I perform a kind of mental stock take....
Droopy eyelid? No
Weakness in my neck or shoulders? No
Any difficulty in breathing/swallowing? No
I am very strict with this evaluation as it would be easy to overlook something subconsciously
in the hope that I am in remission.
I am aware that there will presumably be some residual steroid in my body and that this may still working, however given that I reduced the dose to zero before stopping I cannot imagine that this could be the case for much longer.
One thing that I have noticed is the steroid mania that gave rise to many machine gun style monologues
has left me.....
I actually miss it but doubt if anyone else does!
The new direct way of approaching issues that this gave me however, is still there and this is a
a relief because I feared this maybe only a temporary chemical advantage.
If I wake up tomorrow with the tell tale droopy eyelid I suppose I have at least enjoyed a brief holiday from it and I shall have to resume where I left off, in the knowledge that if it is a lifetime disease I have only lost a couple of months. The conversation with Richard maybe embarrassing though!
" You did WHAT!"
I thought it might be a good idea to stop the carefully considered treatment programme that you had
me on.
" So you decided this based on WHAT EXACTLY"?
It just felt like I might be better.
Mmmmm put like that......
Faced with the possibility that I am one of the lucky people that go into remission
I shall soon have no excuse left to avoid serious training.
When I consider how fit I was back in June when this hit the fan it really does feel like a mountain
to climb from where I am now, but it will be nice to make a start charting my route to base camp.
What will I discuss on here without MG.......
how about this nasty rash on my scrotum?
HAPPY CHRISTMAS!
Wednesday, 6 November 2013
Chapter 24 I'm not bein funny yeah?
So after 45 Years of practising judo and 5 years teaching it full time I find myself just beginning to understand how little I know (cue round of applause from serried ranks of old ladies Monty Python style, he's soooo self effacing soooo humble modest and attractive with it).
A humble 'don't mind lil ol me' start to what I fear maybe a steroid rage in virtual print.
45 Years...... think about that.....
Think about the cumulative experience much of it unconscious, but more recently the conscious effort to understand, to analyse and disseminate this knowledge in a way that can help others to short cut the time it took me to arrive where I am.
Last night I was approached by the parent of a very young child who has just (3 weeks) started judo.
"Can I have a quick word"?
he asked........
"Have a slow one".
I quipped.....
"My son was doing something he shouldn't have been doing earlier and neither you or Don noticed, I'm not sure what I should have done as Don didn't seem happy for me to tell my son direct about what he was doing wrong".............
YOU ARE FUCKING JOKING I thought...
He said, he never quite made me understand what this was, gripping the head was as far as we got.
"Have a look at the Walls" I said (bedecked with World Championship, International and National success memorabilia),
"he hasn't done a bad job so far".
"Without your son or your help" I didnt add.
"Have you done judo"?
I asked the question knowing the answer (tried and failed, tried and gave up, he must succeed where I failed etc).
"Yeah a little bit when I was younger".
At this point I suggested he re start judo by trying a Wednesday night session.
I explained that this might give some insight into what his son is facing.
He changed the subject quickly, explaining that he 'ran through the hold downs' with his son at home.
He may have read the expression in my eyes as he hastily added that the size difference between him, a grown adult and his 5 year old son, brought its own practical problems to these drills.
My expression had more to do with the idea that an adult could imagine that 3 weeks watching gave him the unique insight into this sport that could not only replace over a 100 years of cumulative experience at his son's disposal that night, but more importantly, the confidence to ask permission to coach his child.
Coaching is difficult enough without the constant rear guard action necessary to hold back the tide of dad's that hover out of their chairs, whispering commands to their poor children, who constantly have half their attention on their fathers, (and yes in my experience, it IS fathers not mothers, although there are exceptions to this rule).
The 'advice' proffered is usually the last thing they heard (and half understood) the coach say.
This is then chanted as a mantra, irrespective of the situation, or it's demands...
"turn him over!"
bet he didn't think of that don't forget to tell him to breathe whilst your at it.
"arm roll!"
Usually suggested when their child is laying prone, face down flat on the mat, with the tips of their opponents fingers grazing their armpit.
"drive it"
Always a favourite, implying as it does, a manly determination, and yet vague enough for almost any scenario.
You have no idea how difficult this stuff is for an adult, let alone a 5 year old who is still making the neuromuscular connections and gaining the motor skills an adult (even a coach) can take for granted.
The poor children stuck between this rock and a hard place are desperate to satisfy their fathers and gain their respect.
This is the respect and love that they are owed without condition from a parent.
They are their fathers....so much more than their coaches could ever be.
If they got their job right and left us to do ours, or perhaps spend 40 years doing it, then start a club, then train a few world champions and Olympians and then perhaps begin to understand how much they still have to learn.
Second thoughts shut up and sit down I'm doing
(and it is costing me a fortune in lost earnings)!
Footnote: I address the issue of the fools and NOT the well informed, well intentioned and knowledgeable parents who spend countless hours at the side of the judo mat, sharing their child's dreams and sacrificing their money and social lives in the process.
A humble 'don't mind lil ol me' start to what I fear maybe a steroid rage in virtual print.
45 Years...... think about that.....
Think about the cumulative experience much of it unconscious, but more recently the conscious effort to understand, to analyse and disseminate this knowledge in a way that can help others to short cut the time it took me to arrive where I am.
Last night I was approached by the parent of a very young child who has just (3 weeks) started judo.
"Can I have a quick word"?
he asked........
"Have a slow one".
I quipped.....
"My son was doing something he shouldn't have been doing earlier and neither you or Don noticed, I'm not sure what I should have done as Don didn't seem happy for me to tell my son direct about what he was doing wrong".............
YOU ARE FUCKING JOKING I thought...
He said, he never quite made me understand what this was, gripping the head was as far as we got.
"Have a look at the Walls" I said (bedecked with World Championship, International and National success memorabilia),
"he hasn't done a bad job so far".
"Without your son or your help" I didnt add.
"Have you done judo"?
I asked the question knowing the answer (tried and failed, tried and gave up, he must succeed where I failed etc).
"Yeah a little bit when I was younger".
At this point I suggested he re start judo by trying a Wednesday night session.
I explained that this might give some insight into what his son is facing.
He changed the subject quickly, explaining that he 'ran through the hold downs' with his son at home.
He may have read the expression in my eyes as he hastily added that the size difference between him, a grown adult and his 5 year old son, brought its own practical problems to these drills.
My expression had more to do with the idea that an adult could imagine that 3 weeks watching gave him the unique insight into this sport that could not only replace over a 100 years of cumulative experience at his son's disposal that night, but more importantly, the confidence to ask permission to coach his child.
Coaching is difficult enough without the constant rear guard action necessary to hold back the tide of dad's that hover out of their chairs, whispering commands to their poor children, who constantly have half their attention on their fathers, (and yes in my experience, it IS fathers not mothers, although there are exceptions to this rule).
The 'advice' proffered is usually the last thing they heard (and half understood) the coach say.
This is then chanted as a mantra, irrespective of the situation, or it's demands...
"turn him over!"
bet he didn't think of that don't forget to tell him to breathe whilst your at it.
"arm roll!"
Usually suggested when their child is laying prone, face down flat on the mat, with the tips of their opponents fingers grazing their armpit.
"drive it"
Always a favourite, implying as it does, a manly determination, and yet vague enough for almost any scenario.
You have no idea how difficult this stuff is for an adult, let alone a 5 year old who is still making the neuromuscular connections and gaining the motor skills an adult (even a coach) can take for granted.
The poor children stuck between this rock and a hard place are desperate to satisfy their fathers and gain their respect.
This is the respect and love that they are owed without condition from a parent.
They are their fathers....so much more than their coaches could ever be.
If they got their job right and left us to do ours, or perhaps spend 40 years doing it, then start a club, then train a few world champions and Olympians and then perhaps begin to understand how much they still have to learn.
Second thoughts shut up and sit down I'm doing
(and it is costing me a fortune in lost earnings)!
Footnote: I address the issue of the fools and NOT the well informed, well intentioned and knowledgeable parents who spend countless hours at the side of the judo mat, sharing their child's dreams and sacrificing their money and social lives in the process.
Saturday, 19 October 2013
With two Chapter 21s is this 22 or 23? Do you care?
This ol disease has transformed my life.
A bold statement and a promising start to Chapter 23/ 24.
My wife is a psycho
(logical) counsellor and with English as her second language, she has been writing essays regularly, as part of her coursework.
I have helped to check and edit these essays and as a consequence of this I have been grasping at some of the basic principals of this study.
In effect I have been receiving my own general education in psychology.
It is a fascinating area and I find myself applying it's principals more often, not only to other people and their interactions and motivations but also to myself.
The new directness that I mentioned previously on this blog may be a partial consequence of the steroids that I have been taking, as they came with warning of possible side effects including feelings of mania or depression.
Whilst I do not consider myself depressed I can say, with some certainty that I am occasionally manic and.
many poor parents can bear testament to this.
I sometimes feel like I am hit with an understanding of the 'truth' beneath the complex layers that people use to mask their emotional responses or intentions.
Once I have hit this understanding it feels as though I have peeled away the layers of an onion and it is both invigorating and exciting.....
Unfortunately at this point I usually feel it necessary to explain it to whoever will listen (and they don't get a choice).
My monologues are delivered at 100mph and allow no interruption.....
Yes Mark that's interesting.....
Read...... please I need to go
Oh really?
Read.... REALLY, I really need to go!
Example:
I attended a children's judo competition recently, not as a coach but as a spectator.
This gave me a great opportunity to step back from the trees and see the wood, an objective view of this sport that I love.
It was a truly unedifying spectacle,
I watched as Coaches screamed instructions at their young charges, desperately trying to micro manage their performances like deranged puppeteers.
If these unfortunate children made a mistake they would be subjected to a loud and public humiliation
in full angry dad style.
This bullying was delivered from the person they were relying on to provide a calm and thoughtful influence at this stressful time.
This of course is person who should be able to take a strategic view of their progress and then adjust their training regime to address any problems that might become have become apparent.
The coach should have been working to equip their fighter to find in themselves what they need to handle the demands faced in a contest, but this kind of independence is an overlooked and undervalued asset.
How could someone in this position abuse the trust they had fostered I thought......
(those dots indicate me thinking, suppose a question mark might have done a better job, here you go have this one and don't lose it ?).
It suddenly hit me the whole picture!
The truth of this was that the coaches saw their children as extensions of themselves........
(not thinking now just a dramatic pause)
Vehicles for their own ego........
(tell us Mark, Oh Guru, oh wise one, don't leave us hanging)
Using these convenient little vehicles they could demonstrate to the world, and themselves, their inherent superiority,
Until of course they lose.
It then becomes necessary for the puppet master to explain loudly to his audience that it was the puppet that was faulty.
So these screaming attacks, whilst on the surface seem to be directed at the child,
in fact are aimed, via the child, towards the watching adults, (both spectators and coaches).
"IT WASN'T ME!!!"
Once aware of the dynamics of this situation... I considered that the other reason that coaches overlook the importance of helping their competitor reach a state of capable independence is that it
makes it more difficult for them to hoover up the credit.
This credit is really the motivating driver for their coaching, possibly they have an insecurity that needs to be bolstered by the credit?
Maybe they were made to feel inadequate as children subjected by parents or coaches themselves to this kind of conditional love?
My instinct is that suits their subconscious purpose to engender and propagate a mutual need.
Coaches often joke that if their competitor wins it was because they, the coach got it right,
conversely, when they lose it is the fault of the child........
Closer to the truth than they probably realise.
On the other hand I might just be mad.
A bold statement and a promising start to Chapter 23/ 24.
My wife is a psycho
(logical) counsellor and with English as her second language, she has been writing essays regularly, as part of her coursework.
I have helped to check and edit these essays and as a consequence of this I have been grasping at some of the basic principals of this study.
In effect I have been receiving my own general education in psychology.
It is a fascinating area and I find myself applying it's principals more often, not only to other people and their interactions and motivations but also to myself.
The new directness that I mentioned previously on this blog may be a partial consequence of the steroids that I have been taking, as they came with warning of possible side effects including feelings of mania or depression.
Whilst I do not consider myself depressed I can say, with some certainty that I am occasionally manic and.
many poor parents can bear testament to this.
I sometimes feel like I am hit with an understanding of the 'truth' beneath the complex layers that people use to mask their emotional responses or intentions.
Once I have hit this understanding it feels as though I have peeled away the layers of an onion and it is both invigorating and exciting.....
Unfortunately at this point I usually feel it necessary to explain it to whoever will listen (and they don't get a choice).
My monologues are delivered at 100mph and allow no interruption.....
Yes Mark that's interesting.....
Read...... please I need to go
Oh really?
Read.... REALLY, I really need to go!
Example:
I attended a children's judo competition recently, not as a coach but as a spectator.
This gave me a great opportunity to step back from the trees and see the wood, an objective view of this sport that I love.
It was a truly unedifying spectacle,
I watched as Coaches screamed instructions at their young charges, desperately trying to micro manage their performances like deranged puppeteers.
If these unfortunate children made a mistake they would be subjected to a loud and public humiliation
in full angry dad style.
This bullying was delivered from the person they were relying on to provide a calm and thoughtful influence at this stressful time.
This of course is person who should be able to take a strategic view of their progress and then adjust their training regime to address any problems that might become have become apparent.
The coach should have been working to equip their fighter to find in themselves what they need to handle the demands faced in a contest, but this kind of independence is an overlooked and undervalued asset.
How could someone in this position abuse the trust they had fostered I thought......
(those dots indicate me thinking, suppose a question mark might have done a better job, here you go have this one and don't lose it ?).
It suddenly hit me the whole picture!
The truth of this was that the coaches saw their children as extensions of themselves........
(not thinking now just a dramatic pause)
Vehicles for their own ego........
(tell us Mark, Oh Guru, oh wise one, don't leave us hanging)
Using these convenient little vehicles they could demonstrate to the world, and themselves, their inherent superiority,
Until of course they lose.
It then becomes necessary for the puppet master to explain loudly to his audience that it was the puppet that was faulty.
So these screaming attacks, whilst on the surface seem to be directed at the child,
in fact are aimed, via the child, towards the watching adults, (both spectators and coaches).
"IT WASN'T ME!!!"
Once aware of the dynamics of this situation... I considered that the other reason that coaches overlook the importance of helping their competitor reach a state of capable independence is that it
makes it more difficult for them to hoover up the credit.
This credit is really the motivating driver for their coaching, possibly they have an insecurity that needs to be bolstered by the credit?
Maybe they were made to feel inadequate as children subjected by parents or coaches themselves to this kind of conditional love?
My instinct is that suits their subconscious purpose to engender and propagate a mutual need.
Coaches often joke that if their competitor wins it was because they, the coach got it right,
conversely, when they lose it is the fault of the child........
Closer to the truth than they probably realise.
On the other hand I might just be mad.
Friday, 27 September 2013
21 Tempus Fugit
My face is illuminated by the white light of the puter and I am listening to the sounds of 5.20 am.
Snuffling breathing wife and toddler sounds, strangely comforting sounds but I wish that I could sleep.
This insomnia is a symptom of the steroids apparently and something I shall have to accept, at least until
I start to reduce the dose. Dr Armstrong was pleased with my progress and at our last meeting suggested that in December my dose will begin being reduced.
This makes me happy as I am not certain but suspect that there is a slight thickening below my chin and around my neck.....
AAAAAAAGH BLOODY MOON FACE!
It is easy for me to forget that, back at the beginning, I was struggling to talk or see,
now, a few short months later here I am having a little princess moment.
Bloody GP will be a bit smug though.
When I started this blog it was a way to release the pressure of my situation and communicate with anyone interested in my situation, and this is why it was titled after the disease (this feels like a constraint to the content now, so forgive me if I wander off piste, also forgive the bloody brackets....again).
Overtime however I confess that I have enjoyed the chance to express my thoughts and realised that I really enjoy writing, so there it is, and your stuck with it, blame the ones who encouraged me.
I can see it now, some crusty old pensioner knocking out hideously garish watercolours by the yard..... encouraged years ago by some well meaning family member....
"Oh uncle Roger that really is rather good, you should take this up"
Now faced with this deluge of childlike rubbish they have long ago run out of nice things to say.....
and still he paints, convinced of his genius.
Some of this, when I read it back, feels like it belongs to someone else.
Occasionally funny but often whining and self indulgent, I suppose that is the truth of it though.
My intention was always to try and allow it to pass unfiltered to the virtual page, the only editing was to
spare any offence although looking back I imagine I may have failed on that count!
I remind myself that this is a public forum only to forget a few sentences later, which is good because I
prefer to treat it as a diary.
Life has a habit of throwing surprises and recently I was told that we had to quit our lovely flat as the freeholder is putting the property up for sale.
It was a huge shock as I have lived here now for so long that I had almost forgotten that we are tenants
and it is a sad thought that our plans for this place are now redundant.
Change is inevitable and this is a lesson that will repeat for as long as we draw breath, it is only when shocked by these shifting foundations that we seem to remember, it is as though we are consigned to spending our brief time swimming in circles with our 2 second goldfish memories.....
Ooooh what's around the corner?
A plastic sunken castle, wow!
Ooooh what's around the corner?
A plastic sunken castle, wow!
Ooooh what's around the corner?
A plastic sunken castle, wow! (replete with plastic mermaid)
Perhaps our need for certainty makes this a necessary device or coping strategy.
With the help of people who care, we are now planning a move to a 3 bedroom house,
this situation now feels less like a disaster and more like an opportunity to start a new chapter in our lives,
which, whilst it sounds like some smug self help approach, is true.
So we can look forward to living here for ever and ever and being happy and........ Ut oh.
The sand really does feel like it is shifting under me at the moment.
At the centre of my judo centred life, stands a person who has been part of my life since he started coaching me 45 years ago.
He has recently been suffering from serious health problems which make all of this MG stuff look like
a day at the seaside.
With his illness as an ever present backdrop at the club he has built, I have noticed that it has drawn everyone together and the sense of family is palpable.
I am hopeful that he has been aware of this and drawn some comfort from it.
Supporting him lately with his coaching has given me a deeper understanding and affection for him and I intend to grab every chance I get to live in the moment....
this moment
NOW! (grab it now while stocks last)
I could be sleeping now what a waste of time that is.
aaaaand finally dear reader take a bow, without you etc....
Snuffling breathing wife and toddler sounds, strangely comforting sounds but I wish that I could sleep.
This insomnia is a symptom of the steroids apparently and something I shall have to accept, at least until
I start to reduce the dose. Dr Armstrong was pleased with my progress and at our last meeting suggested that in December my dose will begin being reduced.
This makes me happy as I am not certain but suspect that there is a slight thickening below my chin and around my neck.....
AAAAAAAGH BLOODY MOON FACE!
It is easy for me to forget that, back at the beginning, I was struggling to talk or see,
now, a few short months later here I am having a little princess moment.
Bloody GP will be a bit smug though.
When I started this blog it was a way to release the pressure of my situation and communicate with anyone interested in my situation, and this is why it was titled after the disease (this feels like a constraint to the content now, so forgive me if I wander off piste, also forgive the bloody brackets....again).
Overtime however I confess that I have enjoyed the chance to express my thoughts and realised that I really enjoy writing, so there it is, and your stuck with it, blame the ones who encouraged me.
I can see it now, some crusty old pensioner knocking out hideously garish watercolours by the yard..... encouraged years ago by some well meaning family member....
"Oh uncle Roger that really is rather good, you should take this up"
Now faced with this deluge of childlike rubbish they have long ago run out of nice things to say.....
and still he paints, convinced of his genius.
Some of this, when I read it back, feels like it belongs to someone else.
Occasionally funny but often whining and self indulgent, I suppose that is the truth of it though.
My intention was always to try and allow it to pass unfiltered to the virtual page, the only editing was to
spare any offence although looking back I imagine I may have failed on that count!
I remind myself that this is a public forum only to forget a few sentences later, which is good because I
prefer to treat it as a diary.
Life has a habit of throwing surprises and recently I was told that we had to quit our lovely flat as the freeholder is putting the property up for sale.
It was a huge shock as I have lived here now for so long that I had almost forgotten that we are tenants
and it is a sad thought that our plans for this place are now redundant.
Change is inevitable and this is a lesson that will repeat for as long as we draw breath, it is only when shocked by these shifting foundations that we seem to remember, it is as though we are consigned to spending our brief time swimming in circles with our 2 second goldfish memories.....
Ooooh what's around the corner?
A plastic sunken castle, wow!
Ooooh what's around the corner?
A plastic sunken castle, wow!
Ooooh what's around the corner?
A plastic sunken castle, wow! (replete with plastic mermaid)
Perhaps our need for certainty makes this a necessary device or coping strategy.
With the help of people who care, we are now planning a move to a 3 bedroom house,
this situation now feels less like a disaster and more like an opportunity to start a new chapter in our lives,
which, whilst it sounds like some smug self help approach, is true.
So we can look forward to living here for ever and ever and being happy and........ Ut oh.
The sand really does feel like it is shifting under me at the moment.
At the centre of my judo centred life, stands a person who has been part of my life since he started coaching me 45 years ago.
He has recently been suffering from serious health problems which make all of this MG stuff look like
a day at the seaside.
With his illness as an ever present backdrop at the club he has built, I have noticed that it has drawn everyone together and the sense of family is palpable.
I am hopeful that he has been aware of this and drawn some comfort from it.
Supporting him lately with his coaching has given me a deeper understanding and affection for him and I intend to grab every chance I get to live in the moment....
this moment
NOW! (grab it now while stocks last)
I could be sleeping now what a waste of time that is.
aaaaand finally dear reader take a bow, without you etc....
Tuesday, 24 September 2013
Chapter 21 Radio Silence Over .....Come in please ....Over.......ppsssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Still stinging from the accusation of radio silence (rarely such a thing in my experience.. I always hear that static.....ppsssssssssshhhhh not sure how many s's in that SS! Don't get me started,
Dear God who is not real please help, I'm barely a sentence in and already, with the tangent bracket combos).
London calling.... London calling.... here is a radio silence ending blog.
At the weekend I took a risk or two,
the first risk was to enter another judo competition, following the previously mentioned (see Chapter 19) fiasco in Salisbury.
I put in a reasonable amount of training put on a few kilogrammes of weight (what else could it be eh? perhaps a few kilos of light.... or colour)?
The few kilos could so easily become the few more, I can yet prove my GP right and delight him by developing his predicted moonface.
So back to 90 kg please and fast...
I don't wish to breath my last on the WC with 25lbs of compacted poo in my bowel,
Elvis you were cool but that was not.
So at U100kg I am given a choice fight in the younger age group or fight the one person in my weight / age category as a straight final and then fight the younger ones but without being allowed a medal for it?
The latter choice offered me the guarantee of at least a Silver and hopefully a Gold, as I had beaten this opponent comfortably on previous occasions (he is the one being launched in the photo of the London Open, included in one of my previous vainglorious chapters).
So.... focused, trained and determined, I attacked and threw him inside 10 seconds, for what both of us considered an 10 point ippon score (flat on his back with force).
I subsequently checked this on a video and became even more convinced that the fight should have ended in my favour with this throw........
however it didn't!
We both stopped fighting for a split second and it dawned on me that I had been awarded a 7 point Wazari score meaning the contest would continue, barely had I tried to hold him on his back and finish the job and he was free.
No problem I thought, as he mounted a series of fairly ineffective attacks.
For almost the remainder of this fight I weathered this storm which grew in intensity as he
tried to regain the lead.
He was awarded a couple of penalty shidos for technical infringements, further increasing my comfortable
(surely unassailable Mark) lead.
Unassailable? Well no actually Mark, because you had 12 seconds left did you not?
Well did you!
So did you block him out (with what could only be described as outstanding tactical awareness) for the remaining 12 seconds?
You surely understood that you could even afford to get a penalty and still win comfortably?
No?
Oh dear.....
So you decided to finish it with another throw and got countered leaving you with Silver!
Haaa fool you deserve no more...
Then onto the young ones,where I smashed a few and got smashed by a few.
Then onto the Open Weight Open age group, risky, but I was by this time,
flinging my satin gloves in the face of any one who crossed my path
(not literally you understand but figuratively).
When I say risky my first fight in this group was against a friend Spiro Tomasevic, I believe he is in his late 30's, weighing about 120kg and about 6' 4" tall he is also very capable.
This man represents the kind of challenge I took on when attacking my father as a 3 year old.
Fortunately he is a decent and good judoka and made a serious effort to spare his opponents the battering he could have provided.
In all I had so much fun in the fights I lost, as well as those I won, that I will continue to compete on this semi casual basis
(who am I kidding, I will train harder, compete more often and then disembowelling the next person I fight, I shall slide in their entrails dance a slippery little jig, and laugh at their screams as the light dies in their eyes).
I would at this point like to remind our audience (who is the 'our' in this? I thought it was just me, or am I really developing a serious mental illness as my blog unfolds, note to self; possible film script here, 'mad blogger breaks down whilst blogging then embarks on judo killing spree')
Actually I was so damm happy to be able to compete, even with this MG, that I was enjoying myself more than I can remember at a judo contest and I mean ever..... so lots more please.
The thanks for my entering this go to a good friend Winnie Graham, who overcame a broken neck as a senior, followed by a stroke as a Master to win regularly with sublime judo.
He has a style the like of which most of us can only dream and it was a joy to watch him scythe through his opposition on Saturday.
At a time when I doubted I could continue, his private and intelligent messages convinced me that I should at least try again, this was at a time when many of my friends were handing out the "screw your cock back on and shut up" macho style of counselling.
Well intentioned, but lacking an understanding of how this MG had affected my psychology.
Serve me right for plastering it over FB then? Damm right too, it is slightly nauseating this public breast beating and I deserved the quality of advice I got once making myself available as public property.
The second risk........ well I am going to have leave you guessing but it included various attempts upon my life, a fast car and a person I love and respect beyond belief.
Next Chapters exciting episode?
Maybe maybe not.
Over and out (even though that's not how they end a radio transmission)
Dear God who is not real please help, I'm barely a sentence in and already, with the tangent bracket combos).
London calling.... London calling.... here is a radio silence ending blog.
At the weekend I took a risk or two,
the first risk was to enter another judo competition, following the previously mentioned (see Chapter 19) fiasco in Salisbury.
I put in a reasonable amount of training put on a few kilogrammes of weight (what else could it be eh? perhaps a few kilos of light.... or colour)?
The few kilos could so easily become the few more, I can yet prove my GP right and delight him by developing his predicted moonface.
So back to 90 kg please and fast...
I don't wish to breath my last on the WC with 25lbs of compacted poo in my bowel,
Elvis you were cool but that was not.
So at U100kg I am given a choice fight in the younger age group or fight the one person in my weight / age category as a straight final and then fight the younger ones but without being allowed a medal for it?
The latter choice offered me the guarantee of at least a Silver and hopefully a Gold, as I had beaten this opponent comfortably on previous occasions (he is the one being launched in the photo of the London Open, included in one of my previous vainglorious chapters).
So.... focused, trained and determined, I attacked and threw him inside 10 seconds, for what both of us considered an 10 point ippon score (flat on his back with force).
I subsequently checked this on a video and became even more convinced that the fight should have ended in my favour with this throw........
however it didn't!
We both stopped fighting for a split second and it dawned on me that I had been awarded a 7 point Wazari score meaning the contest would continue, barely had I tried to hold him on his back and finish the job and he was free.
No problem I thought, as he mounted a series of fairly ineffective attacks.
For almost the remainder of this fight I weathered this storm which grew in intensity as he
tried to regain the lead.
He was awarded a couple of penalty shidos for technical infringements, further increasing my comfortable
(surely unassailable Mark) lead.
Unassailable? Well no actually Mark, because you had 12 seconds left did you not?
Well did you!
So did you block him out (with what could only be described as outstanding tactical awareness) for the remaining 12 seconds?
You surely understood that you could even afford to get a penalty and still win comfortably?
No?
Oh dear.....
So you decided to finish it with another throw and got countered leaving you with Silver!
Haaa fool you deserve no more...
Then onto the young ones,where I smashed a few and got smashed by a few.
Then onto the Open Weight Open age group, risky, but I was by this time,
flinging my satin gloves in the face of any one who crossed my path
(not literally you understand but figuratively).
When I say risky my first fight in this group was against a friend Spiro Tomasevic, I believe he is in his late 30's, weighing about 120kg and about 6' 4" tall he is also very capable.
This man represents the kind of challenge I took on when attacking my father as a 3 year old.
Fortunately he is a decent and good judoka and made a serious effort to spare his opponents the battering he could have provided.
In all I had so much fun in the fights I lost, as well as those I won, that I will continue to compete on this semi casual basis
(who am I kidding, I will train harder, compete more often and then disembowelling the next person I fight, I shall slide in their entrails dance a slippery little jig, and laugh at their screams as the light dies in their eyes).
I would at this point like to remind our audience (who is the 'our' in this? I thought it was just me, or am I really developing a serious mental illness as my blog unfolds, note to self; possible film script here, 'mad blogger breaks down whilst blogging then embarks on judo killing spree')
Actually I was so damm happy to be able to compete, even with this MG, that I was enjoying myself more than I can remember at a judo contest and I mean ever..... so lots more please.
The thanks for my entering this go to a good friend Winnie Graham, who overcame a broken neck as a senior, followed by a stroke as a Master to win regularly with sublime judo.
He has a style the like of which most of us can only dream and it was a joy to watch him scythe through his opposition on Saturday.
At a time when I doubted I could continue, his private and intelligent messages convinced me that I should at least try again, this was at a time when many of my friends were handing out the "screw your cock back on and shut up" macho style of counselling.
Well intentioned, but lacking an understanding of how this MG had affected my psychology.
Serve me right for plastering it over FB then? Damm right too, it is slightly nauseating this public breast beating and I deserved the quality of advice I got once making myself available as public property.
The second risk........ well I am going to have leave you guessing but it included various attempts upon my life, a fast car and a person I love and respect beyond belief.
Next Chapters exciting episode?
Maybe maybe not.
Over and out (even though that's not how they end a radio transmission)
Thursday, 5 September 2013
20 Focused or Mad........ You the Reader Decide, in our latest exciting issue.
So I commit the cardinal sin, (difficult for an atheist, but God loves a trier)
by starting a sentence with 'so'
Pseudo intellectuals are doing this, on a radio or TV near you right now.
It's a really annoying affectation and once noticed, impossible to ignore or avoid.
My instinct is that people employ it as a way of adding some gravitas to what they are about to say, almost as if you, their listener, are their appreciative audience, awaiting enlightenment.
It started as a particularly West Coast American beardy professor style delivery, where the 'so' had to include a rising inflection, suggesting a question.
It has now spread to every fool, asked any question, on any topic......
So.... what is it with me.... is it that I have finally realised how to enforce boundaries?
Have I started to understand that fools do not have to be suffered?
Is it that at last my mind is finally focused and has learned to clarify when faced with confusion?
or
Am I suffering the effects of my steroid treatment?
The steroids offer the potential for either manic feelings or depression and so far I seem to have escaped lightly.
I have to concede however I have noticed a swelling level of drive and efficiency in me, almost like I am becoming super efficient.
I have been organising planning and filing things. with a drive that is breathtaking and insisting that everyone else conform to my new found structure.
Over the last few weeks my insomnia and levels of drive have escalated to a point where I am feeling almost rocket propelled.
This effect has no apparent downside for me although it may start seeding some of my friends.
I suspect a few friends have been left reeling at my new found levels of directness, I have stopped calling a spade a long handled digging implement...... as it were.
Case #1.
I lent a 3 Disc DVD collection on Innoue to a good friend, this is a Fighting Films £65 boxed set, but he is my friend.
A few months later I ask for and finally get them back.
Days after this I get a call...
"Mark I think you may have one of my DVD's as your 'The Uchi Mata' is in my 'Judo World Championship The Heavyweights' box.
I check...... he is right (perhaps for the last time on this blog).
I have his DVD in my box, and it was returned (by him) in error.
No problem we will swap when we meet, except that the next time we meet, its because he is returning course work to me that I also lent him about 6 months previously.
" I cant find that DVD"
Texts he
"Bollocks"
Thinks I
"Could you have another look at your place" and "are you sure you lent it to me?"
Texts he
"I definitely lent it to you"
Texts I
oh and ....."you lost it you stupid shitbag" thinks I
"Keep your hair on"
Texts he,
Did you get that? he was the one who alerted me to the fact that he had given me his DVD in error, Remember... he only realised this as he found mine, MINE! the one that he was now hinting I had never given him....
So he forgets the back story and then, surprised at my reaction asks me to keep my hair on.
On each of my replies I ended with "see you later" as I was about to go training and was also having a running row with my wife, whilst trying to deal with this.
Not unlike Hitler (I mean the war on two fronts not my temper you fools).
Note to self: give nothing lend nothing that you are not prepared to lose,
or, put more simply,
give nothing worth a shit to people that spend more time taking than giving...
Confronted by my re- telling of this sorry story face to face, he started to promise he would replace it, despite that I explained twice that I didn't need him to.
I had decided that with my life lesson learned I would replace it myself, but he continued to promise that he would (even explaining for reasons that are beyond me, that he had told his wife this and she agreed, so that's all right then).
I finally cracked telling him to "f*cking replace it then and stop saying you are going to"!
Guess what he said?.....
Go on guess.....
Keep your hair on! TWAT
Case #2
On Tuesday I got a voicemail from a local primary school where I teach twoclasses of judo each week.
I had previously been warned that the hall would be out of use in this first week of term.
This message however explained however, that the judo would not be able to restart until further notice as the breakfast club was now using it.
They promised they would be in touch when once they could give me a date to restart.
This is one of my favourite schools, and with two large classes it is also a significant part of my income.
I had already dropped an after school class at another school on Thursdays as a consequence of my helping my ailing freind and mentor Don Werner with Pinewood Judo Club.
With the news still boiling in my head I made a quick call to them to this school.
"How would you like me to reinstate that class but on Thursday mornings as I think I have found you a slot"
"Great"
said they
"Great"
said me
"No rush but when the judo restarts you had better explain to the parents that it will now be only one class and not two"
Said I to the other school.
"Oh what will we do? there are 40 children doing judo!"
I admit to a sense of satisfaction with the effect my news had on the, up until now relaxed
messenger.
"Start a waiting list"
Said I
Whilst it is not there fault, I cannot believe that this situation became apparent on the first day back,
and it is not my fault either. It is about me defending my family income I explained.
They were fairly casual with their approach to my business and this is not an approach I can share with them.
It moved in approx. 10 minutes from me needing them, to them understanding that they needed me.
I now seem to have developed an uncanny and useful knack of cutting straight through the embarrassed middle class footwork, that does no more than obscure unfairness.
Believe me I was Michael Flatley when it came to this offence avoidance footwork, well not anymore..
I am hopeful that the lessons I am learning through my steroid side effects are going to stay with me beyond the point where I come off of them.
Another silver lining thanks MG and better late than never eh?
Mr Direct coming to a town near you soon be straight be very straight....
by starting a sentence with 'so'
Pseudo intellectuals are doing this, on a radio or TV near you right now.
It's a really annoying affectation and once noticed, impossible to ignore or avoid.
My instinct is that people employ it as a way of adding some gravitas to what they are about to say, almost as if you, their listener, are their appreciative audience, awaiting enlightenment.
It started as a particularly West Coast American beardy professor style delivery, where the 'so' had to include a rising inflection, suggesting a question.
It has now spread to every fool, asked any question, on any topic......
So.... what is it with me.... is it that I have finally realised how to enforce boundaries?
Have I started to understand that fools do not have to be suffered?
Is it that at last my mind is finally focused and has learned to clarify when faced with confusion?
or
Am I suffering the effects of my steroid treatment?
The steroids offer the potential for either manic feelings or depression and so far I seem to have escaped lightly.
I have to concede however I have noticed a swelling level of drive and efficiency in me, almost like I am becoming super efficient.
I have been organising planning and filing things. with a drive that is breathtaking and insisting that everyone else conform to my new found structure.
Over the last few weeks my insomnia and levels of drive have escalated to a point where I am feeling almost rocket propelled.
This effect has no apparent downside for me although it may start seeding some of my friends.
I suspect a few friends have been left reeling at my new found levels of directness, I have stopped calling a spade a long handled digging implement...... as it were.
Case #1.
I lent a 3 Disc DVD collection on Innoue to a good friend, this is a Fighting Films £65 boxed set, but he is my friend.
A few months later I ask for and finally get them back.
Days after this I get a call...
"Mark I think you may have one of my DVD's as your 'The Uchi Mata' is in my 'Judo World Championship The Heavyweights' box.
I check...... he is right (perhaps for the last time on this blog).
I have his DVD in my box, and it was returned (by him) in error.
No problem we will swap when we meet, except that the next time we meet, its because he is returning course work to me that I also lent him about 6 months previously.
" I cant find that DVD"
Texts he
"Bollocks"
Thinks I
"Could you have another look at your place" and "are you sure you lent it to me?"
Texts he
"I definitely lent it to you"
Texts I
oh and ....."you lost it you stupid shitbag" thinks I
"Keep your hair on"
Texts he,
Did you get that? he was the one who alerted me to the fact that he had given me his DVD in error, Remember... he only realised this as he found mine, MINE! the one that he was now hinting I had never given him....
So he forgets the back story and then, surprised at my reaction asks me to keep my hair on.
On each of my replies I ended with "see you later" as I was about to go training and was also having a running row with my wife, whilst trying to deal with this.
Not unlike Hitler (I mean the war on two fronts not my temper you fools).
Note to self: give nothing lend nothing that you are not prepared to lose,
or, put more simply,
give nothing worth a shit to people that spend more time taking than giving...
Confronted by my re- telling of this sorry story face to face, he started to promise he would replace it, despite that I explained twice that I didn't need him to.
I had decided that with my life lesson learned I would replace it myself, but he continued to promise that he would (even explaining for reasons that are beyond me, that he had told his wife this and she agreed, so that's all right then).
I finally cracked telling him to "f*cking replace it then and stop saying you are going to"!
Guess what he said?.....
Go on guess.....
Keep your hair on! TWAT
Case #2
On Tuesday I got a voicemail from a local primary school where I teach twoclasses of judo each week.
I had previously been warned that the hall would be out of use in this first week of term.
This message however explained however, that the judo would not be able to restart until further notice as the breakfast club was now using it.
They promised they would be in touch when once they could give me a date to restart.
This is one of my favourite schools, and with two large classes it is also a significant part of my income.
I had already dropped an after school class at another school on Thursdays as a consequence of my helping my ailing freind and mentor Don Werner with Pinewood Judo Club.
With the news still boiling in my head I made a quick call to them to this school.
"How would you like me to reinstate that class but on Thursday mornings as I think I have found you a slot"
"Great"
said they
"Great"
said me
"No rush but when the judo restarts you had better explain to the parents that it will now be only one class and not two"
Said I to the other school.
"Oh what will we do? there are 40 children doing judo!"
I admit to a sense of satisfaction with the effect my news had on the, up until now relaxed
messenger.
"Start a waiting list"
Said I
Whilst it is not there fault, I cannot believe that this situation became apparent on the first day back,
and it is not my fault either. It is about me defending my family income I explained.
They were fairly casual with their approach to my business and this is not an approach I can share with them.
It moved in approx. 10 minutes from me needing them, to them understanding that they needed me.
I now seem to have developed an uncanny and useful knack of cutting straight through the embarrassed middle class footwork, that does no more than obscure unfairness.
Believe me I was Michael Flatley when it came to this offence avoidance footwork, well not anymore..
I am hopeful that the lessons I am learning through my steroid side effects are going to stay with me beyond the point where I come off of them.
Another silver lining thanks MG and better late than never eh?
Mr Direct coming to a town near you soon be straight be very straight....
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