Thought Picnic: Rest, Sobriety, and Social Sacrifice

Treasuring Rest and Sobriety

There are two things I treasure: the opportunity for rest and keeping my sobriety. I get my sleep whenever I can, except when it is interrupted by obligation or responsibility—work or other necessities.

This means that even when I do not get sufficient rest during the week, which is usually the case due to what is essentially nighttime insomnia, I make up for the shortfall at the weekend. I will have a good lie-in on Saturday, not getting out of bed for most of the morning if I can help it, and sometimes I do give my Sunday to rest over religious commitment.

It is strange that some who are aware of these irregular sleeping patterns still seem totally oblivious to this knowledge in some self-serving way. I suppose that is to be expected.

A Teetotaller With Exceptions

On sobriety, I would consider myself generally a teetotaller, though not to the point of total abstinence. I do like wine. My work experience in a brewery laboratory at the age of 15 quite literally put me off beer, lager, cider, and ale.

It is not for religious belief that I rarely consume alcohol; rather, I have seen how drink loosens the tongue, prompting people to speak more candidly. These are thoughts they once had the wherewithal to keep unspoken. Moments of indiscretion or regrettable garrulousness accommodate the emptying of the bottle into the belly.

One core principle I keep more than ever is never to drink alone and mostly to drink only with meals. This makes drinking a social activity and forestalls the advent of hangovers. I probably drink with the utmost moderation; my experiences with light-headedness have come from prescribed medication rather than from losing control, paying homage to Bacchus.

The Darker Side of Drink

Walking up through the Gay Village near where I live, many a doorway is fouled by vomit. At night, you behold the sight of people barely able to stand on their own two feet, so inebriated to the point of incapacity.

The whole thing is quite scary to me: the thought that a portion of your sensibilities is lost to a void of nothingness, your memory failing to recall any recent event.

Then imagine a sober man keeping the fully drunk company, subjected to the inanities that make you question your own sanity. As much as it is part of socialising and being a social animal, you do you; I do me. Some sacrifices are necessary to make the world go round.

A Google NotebookLM AI Audio Overview Discussion of this blog

Photons on the Prostate - XIII

Many improvements in symptoms

Thinking of the process of recuperation after radiotherapy, I am getting better at least with the signs I have observed. There are fewer occasions of my voice sounding tired and waned from exhaustion, the weather might have contributed too as it is summertime in South Africa.

The symptoms with the waterworks persist and while it will not be defined as benign prostate enlargement the fundamentals of it still exist as the prostate was enlarged because of acinar adenocarcinoma of the prostate, the radiotherapy treatment of the cancer would have further inflamed the prostate and constricted the urinary tract, for which I have to take daily medication to ease water flow.

The image below best describes issues of an enlarged prostate, and links at the end of the blog give more context. The need to check your prostate health is important, I suggest you use the International Prostate Symptom Score (IPSS) Calculator as a starting point to buttress the case to your doctor for a Prostate Specific Antigen (PSA) test.

Courtesy of NHS Overview of Benign Prostate Enlargement

Other symptoms of concern

As pertains the waterworks, a polite reference to the bladder issues; there is lesser urgency or frequency, but the weak flow, straining, and nocturia are issues to manage as the prostate heals and hopefully returns to a normal size.

One other side effect that statistically affects others more but has been less of a concern for me is with bowel issues. They are manageable, but mishaps do occur. I reckon part of my original pain management medication has positively impacted expected diarrhoetic symptoms, but I must watch for irregular bowel movements.

What has not normalised is my sleep patterns, they are out of kilter. I suffer a lot from insomnia leading to tiredness during the day with the documented sleep record on my smartwatch showing barely 3 hours of night sleep and naps of about 60 to 90 minutes dotted around the day.

At the church service that I attended yesterday which started at 9:30 AM, I was wilting within an hour into the service. I hope this improves without having to resort to sleep inducement through medication. It might be something to discuss with my medical team.

Appreciating rest and recuperation

More importantly, it is the immediate support and care of my partner that has helped me. It was not easy facing a cancer diagnosis alone in Manchester, I had to rearrange some priorities for the uncertainties ahead. I received a confirmed diagnosis in mid-June but postponed any discussion about options for treatment for a month, while I took time to meet with my partner.

After I returned, the discussion about radical surgery and its side effects were not that encouraging, but I had to wait another fortnight to discuss radical radiotherapy and what confusion followed the different options in that area that we had a lot of back and forth. It was the second-hand experience of others that gave a better insight into what it entailed.

When the radiotherapy commenced in September, I worked through it, keeping up my routine as much as possible, though the fatigue set in, from the onset, at the first weekend, just after 2 treatments. Then, I tried to maintain productivity for another month after the treatments concluded as I realised radiotherapy did have a greater toll on my body than I anticipated.

Making the best of this rest period is critical even as I yearn to get back into professional activity. The art of restful relaxation is one I am yet to master even as I try to distinguish between holiday and recuperation, I should not make my recuperation seem like a holiday, just because I am away from home.

Blog - Men's things - Prostate Cancer blogs

Blog - Photons on the Prostate - XII

Other references

MedScape: International Prostate Symptom Score (IPSS) Calculator

Mayo Clinic: Benign prostatic hyperplasia (BPH)

Urology Care Foundation: Benign prostatic hyperplasia (BPH)

NHS: Prostate Specific Antigen (PSA) test

Prostate Cancer UK: The PSA blood test

That unwelcome discomfort from youth came visiting today

A familiar and rotten feeling

To date, I have never had a proper diagnosis, it is something I have suffered from juvenile times that I need to find a stop to. The stomach/abdominal pain that comes in waves with little in terms of relief can continue for up to a day. Usually starting early in the morning and continuing with moments of respite throughout the day.

Blog - I remember this tummy ache – (October 2007)

Blog - The pain is a long story – (September 2023)

It can be exhausting and the most I can do in terms of remedy is lie on my belly cushioned over a soft pillow and drink lots of sweet and milky tea. This might be accompanied by bowel movement or vomiting, which it was today, but it just adds to the discomfort of it all.

The thoughts that ran through my mind as I writhed with pain in my bedroom midmorning without the appetite for any ingestion even of pain relief, I would hate to consider again. I seem to have learnt to endure the pain with the hope it soon subsides.

The need for more rest

As I write this blog, even though I believe the worst of it is over, the muscles of my stomach seem to retain a memory of the suffering I endured with a foreboding that it might creep on me again. Thankfully, the pain associated with my waterworks post-radiotherapy has literally dissipated.

When I lay on the sofa in the living room, I passed the time away with old playbacks on YouTube of The Love Boat and Fantasy Island. Between the grimaces of pain and the comfort that interspersed today's main event, I did not even notice that we had some rain.

I think I’ll be fine for the rest of the day. There was no indicator as to why this ailment took hold today. I am glad it is over, and it is evident that for all the strength that I think I have regained in my first week of recuperation, I really do need as much rest as I can get, and I have not got nearly as much as I need, so far.

From arrest to rest

A necessary situation

To think it was exactly two months ago that I walked into the Christie Hospital to begin 20 sessions of hypofractionated radiotherapy to treat malignant prostate cancer.

Until then, I felt nothing apart from what the blood work told us that further investigation revealed. I could have had a year totally oblivious of a growth in a delicate part of my anatomy that could be a cause of serious illness and death.

All through treatment that happened over 4 weeks of weekdays, I barely slowed down activity, though, as fatigue and other issues took hold, I made adjustments.

A betraying voice

This was brought home to me when I attended a conference having apologised for my low energy levels affecting the strength of my voice. Most listeners would have wondered why a sick man is pushing himself so hard. One sought out the management to raise their concerns.

I preferred to have some occupation rather than a distraction; I was accommodated even as others suggested I take time off.

The voice rarely improved; it bears the hallmarks of extreme exhaustion, yet, it is my voice, my tool of expression, slightly battered by resonant. Let me not suggest that it is indefatigable because fatigue has a role in moderating the sound.

Giving due consideration

Radiotherapy is painless and by that reckoning may seem harmless too. The havoc it has wreaked on my waterworks is one I hope to put behind me, along with the urgency that hits me when I need to map a route that offers immediate use of conveniences or sit at home.

The other consideration is finding the strength to do the simple things. It is five weeks since the end of treatment. The cancer is blasted but the body is far from a good state of recovery.

The decision to embark on a journey for the opportunity to access love and care was attacked from many quarters as much as others saw the need for it.

I made a determination after realising I needed to give myself both the time and the rest to recover, not sitting alone in cold Manchester but in the warmth of Cape Town with Brian.

Accepting my vulnerability

The discomfort of being carted around airports in a wheelchair in the knowledge that I truly am not fit enough to do the things I did without concern, before September is that independent streak denying my vulnerability.

However, I know how having a Radar key to access disabled toilets has prevented me from wetting myself the many times I have been out. This is all temporary.

I will get better, fully regain my strength and vigour, and then receive the all-clear assessment in April. What I need to tell myself is I need both the time and the rest to get well. Without that, I arrest my recovery.

To be loved in return

Nat King Cole, Nature Boy

Lifted beyond circumstances

I am like that nature boy who has wandered very far, very far, over land and sea. Whether I have acquired the wisdom of the boy, I cannot say. However, in life, I have learnt a lot about myself and about people.

The world has its issues and strangeness, much of which can affect us, the forces of nature sometimes unrelenting, the foolishness of politics with unintended consequences, and the unreasonableness of leaders bringing war, suffering, migration, and worse upon others.

Maybe we seek to isolate or insulate ourselves from these things, but there is only so much we can do with the limited resources we have to deploy in situations and circumstances we cannot control.

To the earthbound, the horizons are low. What we perceive through our senses can delude us, leaving us vulnerable to error and erroneous judgment. We must transcend these limitations for a dimension first created by imagination and brought into reality by what we speak.

Faith that assures

This is what undergirds my situation, I find inspiration in the words of the Christian God and begin a journey to places I could never have imagined possible. My story is not set in the travails of many aspects of adversity I have experienced, but in the blessings and triumphs that have put the past into the shade.

There are things I could not have planned for; grace and providence laid out paths that when I look back, I am amazed at how things have not only worked out for the good but have become testimonies of wonder because I refused to be moved by the storms that rage around to distract from purpose and determination.

As I embark on a time for rest and recuperation, I see the joy of living, the wonder of love, the beauty of peace, and the rejuvenation of spirit, soul, and body.

Beyond that, I hear the words of the nature boy:

The greatest thing,
You'll ever learn,
Is just to love,
And be loved in return.

Thought Picnic: Easing into ease

All bothered too much

Sometimes, it is that sense of idle listlessness that appears to consume every passing moment that you wonder what it is you might do to exit that morass of discomfort and melancholy that presents as a lack of productivity.

Then again, you do not need to be beavering away with work at every opportunity. We need to learn to break away and do something else, learn to play, find some enjoyment in something leisurely, even seek out the quiet, a place of solace and solitude, and relax.

Learning the art of ease

That probably is the least of the skills I have, the ability to relax without being caught away by expecting and expectation. I recognise this is something I need to develop better even amongst the many things I want to do, I need to allot time to not being exerted by anything, anyone, or any place.

Yet, I am my greatest critic, beating myself incessantly about aims or goals, worse still on issues like what could have or should have been done. That is spilt-milk territory that I need to accept is not redeemable and is gone.

I should stop suffering for the past that is gone, settle into the present that I should give the reins of ease and in that unburdened setting begin to see better ways of doing the things I have heretofore not been successful in doing as well as I might have thought possible.

Running off the runs

What a messy thing

I woke up a little later than usual this morning having had a rather torrid night of it. Like on Tuesday night, I was out of bed every few minutes to assuage the diarrhoeal urges that I have battled since then.

Most of Thursday, I was fine, I hardly needed to heed the call of nature until after work and during my nap, I had to rush out of the bedroom to the toilet. Then having laid towels on the bed, I had 4 changes of towels with the need to run a late-night washing machine cycle before things quietened down.

A run on stemming runs

By then, I had run out of Imodium Instants, I hoped for the best that things would just settle, and I could get some rest and comfort. At noon, I went to the Boots Chemist to get an over-the-counter pack of Loperamide hydrochloride, the main ingredient in Imodium and it would appear a few more people have had the runs that there has been a run on Imodium, they were out of stock.

It took going to the local supermarket home remedies shelf to get the last two packets available. It might well be there is a bug going around. This was the issue the pharmacist raised at the vaccination centre if they needed to separate the side effects of the booster vaccine from the continuing problem of diarrhoea and I cannot say if the booster might have exacerbated it.

Brian would probably be nodding his head at my apparent obstinacy, but my view is we have to deal with the situation as it is rather than what could have been or should have been done before.

Thought Picnic: Making a home of a house

Could not live there

Standing at the top of our street, Gbélẹ̀yí, it was called, meaning live in or on this land, I was not looking forward to living or life there. A place that was supposed to be my home, on sight brought a very sinking feeling upon me, like a bucket of cold water emptied over my head and travelling down my body uniformly but slower than gravity acting on it.

I could never understand it, in the house where I lived, I had my parents and my siblings, below was my uncle and his family, we had a friendly enough neighbourhood, in the house, I have shelter and provision, protection too, but something was still missing that did not address a deeply emotional need, I was adrift in a place where for my discomfiture, the only question was, ‘What is the matter with you?’

I lived in a house that was not a home, much as it was a home to many, yet there was nowhere else I could call home, so I endured life there and failed in other things. Things were not that equal.

Home long before home

When I lived in Amsterdam and went on my travels, there were times I could see my apartment block from miles away, sometimes from the plane, usually from a train arriving at the station, or from the taxi just before it went into a long tunnel. It was a wonderful sight to behold, for long before I got home, I felt I was at home.

The same feeling, I had when for 18 nights I yearned to return home from the hospital that when I eventually returned, I began to feel that my healing would accelerate. Even in the time of privation and penury brought on by extreme adversity, my home comforts helped the determination that I was on the mend. Opportunity did present to leap out of my 7th-floor apartment window, but I felt stronger inside my home especially when a sense of claustrophobia seemed to envelop me.

For my new home

I am at the stage of planning to build another home, I place where I want to return from the world outside and all its troubles, into the refreshing and strength that first soothes my aches and salves my sores before I am recuperated to face the world again. Into the arms of love and support, of care and concern, of companionship and friendship that transcends all and gives the assurance that we can face everything together.

Then I wonder to myself, every now and again? Am I a hopeless romantic, a fool for love and blindly falling to a place of despair? I have to tell myself, I know better now, yet a cloud of doubt seeks to shield the sunshine of beauty from giving warmth to the seeds sown for a future we can build if we allow ourselves to do amazing things. I yearn for a house made into a home.

Sleep and grow

Cherish the sleep

Night sleep is not what I usually get enough of, it is a precious commodity and so I am quite judicious with it. I get as much sleep as I can despite the night-time insomnia and do the best with the naps I get during the day or after work. It is all good rest.

It all adds up to useful sleep hours for the day, disjointed perhaps, too dreamy with rapid eye movement (REM) sleep, quite a lot of light sleep and on my sleep chart the moments of deep sleep together is reasonable but like a series of saw-tooth chopping marks, essentially, I am not a natural deep sleeper.

Managing your portions

That seems to be something I grew up with and there might be drug interactions that limit the stretch, but what I have decided is not to use drug-induced medication. Though I have noticed that herbal teas that include ginger, lemon, peppermint, honey, or camomile can help in my relaxation, I have no scientific proof of that.

When I get the sleep I have been given, I prefer not to be woken up or disturbed because I am not one to just roll over and go back to sleep. Once I am up, I get busy until I tire out to fall asleep again, which could be hours later. Maybe having lights on that the radio playing in the background does not help but switch off the lights and I lightly wake up in minutes. We are all freaks of nature to some extent and that is not entirely a bad thing.

What I learnt about sleep

The beauty of sleep

After about 5 weeks of observing the sleep analysis data produced by my Honor Band 5 tracker, I am gaining some understanding as to how my body works. Yet, the use of the tracker is only indicative, it does not replace proper medical supervision and analysis that would require attending a sleep clinic.

Taking a day at a time, looking at the sleep data can be disconcerting for there are nights when I literally got no sleep, maybe just under 3 hours and I could not attribute it to anything, in particular. The Huawei Health app is full of suggestions, if I wake up more than twice in the night, I might have drunk too much water close to my bedtime.

Just about enough

Depending on the quality of sleep, there are dietary and fitness factors introduced, it almost becomes prescriptive, yoghurt is good, do more exercise or exert yourself less. You get to a point where you decide none of this really matters in the bigger scheme of things, but some adjustments can be made.

I know on average, I am getting just over 7 hours of night sleep, the stages of sleep are within the tolerable limits of normal, that is; REM sleep, Light sleep, and Deep sleep. Deep sleep continuity is low, but that is one switch I am not sure of how to tune, the charts are show me transitioning between the stages, spending more time in the Light sleep stage.

Worrying about nothing

My bedtime habits need considering, like when I go to bed and the whole idea of being a nocturnal animal needs putting aside. My tracker and app scream with curtains if I am not getting enough hours of sleep. I am good at waking up, I guess because most times, it is by alarm clock.

As I collect more sleep data, I think I will get a better idea of what minor habits like having an early pill time, not taking food after a certain hour, and probably varying the light and sound environment in the bedroom need to be altered ever so slightly. There isn’t a problem, just a situation to study, understand and keep under constant review, as for worry, that is completely unnecessary. Sleep tight!

Sleep data for August 2020

Stop wishing others sweet dreams as they go to sleep

Sleeping duties

Knowledge can be troublesome at times and nowhere has this been that interesting than getting an understanding of my sleeping patterns over the last week. My Honor Band 5 tracker has been plotting my daily sleep cycle from wakefulness to deep sleep, indicating I have not been getting enough deep sleep and the continuity of my deep sleep is too below the expected levels.

I seem to have lots of REM (Rapid Eye Movement) sleep, which apparently is the lightest form of sleep and the region in which you dream and remember the dreams. Who would have thought wishing someone sweet dreams as they were going to bed was hardly wishing they would have a restful night?

Then, I do appear to have an above range period of light sleep, I am putting in the hours though the graphical representation of REM Sleep to Light Sleep to Deep Sleep with the fluctuations and durations can be the stuff of serious mathematical computations yet to find some formulaic expression.

Becoming better friends

I have decided not to bother too much about it, I am getting some good hours. Except if I go to a professional sleep clinic for clinical and scientific observation, I probably will not learn much more about how to benefit from sleep.

Then, it is probably the long-term side effects of pills I have been on for over a decade. The somewhat imposed decision to change them did not work that well with me for after 7 weeks, I had had enough of being a guinea pig two years ago that I asked to be put back on my old drug regimen. Besides, I have shied away from sleep medication for as long as I can remember, I would get as much sleep as nature will allow.

Some modifications to diet, the time I take my sleep and when I take my pills, might help. I have not murdered sleep; I just need to find out how we can be better than just friends.

Thought Picnic: The realm of multidimensional simultaneous realities

In the world of the mind

The stuff dreams are made of, realities of mental experiences that if remembered might be reliving things that are exposed from the recesses of memory or dictated by external influences in the state of slumber during rapid eye movement sleep.

I probably do not sleep for long, but I generally have a quite restful sleep, I would rarely have a stretch of sleeping that lasts up to 4 hours. Brian, whose sense of time is at best suspect would say I barely sleep for an hour. If he wore a watch, I might just believe him.

What I must however avoid is ingesting any food close to when I take my pills at night-time, because there is some interaction between the medication and whatever little fat is in my food that creates hallucinatory effects and vivid dreams.

In dreamy consciousness

The kinds of dreams that has me caught in dreams within dreams, my flicking a light switch and the lights not coming on, and that is how my subconscious realises I am in a dream. Why I gravitate towards a light switch in many of my dreams, I can’t explain.

In these vivid, lively, and vigorous dreams are my engagements in battles of will and power, where, from within the deep sleep I voice out challenges and commands to defeat threats and fears. I don’t think I have suffered somnambulism, but I have exhibited motor skills whilst in deep sleep wielding weapons or exercised in martial artistry.

Multidimensional simultaneous realities do exist, usually as individually conscious experiences rather than shared ones. Some, I have shared as part of my Dreamscape blogs. [Instagram]

Answers to thorny situations in sleep

The multidimensional part of these experiences merges time and space, into a naturally inconceivable present. How people long departed and strangers I have never met before along with those I very well know meet up in a contemporaneous situation dealing with simplistic or complicated situation from which I might end up wiser or stupefied.

The imagination can take you places, just as daydreaming can, the wonder of sleep is still in the process of being better understood. One thing I find it does for me is it settles my mind is in turmoil, unable to make sense of the living reality I cannot control.

Having learnt through experience that worry solves nothing, I find the refuge of sleep a good place to find the wisdom of the ages to see beyond the clouds that obfuscate the brilliance of the sun or to shorten the night to bring on the dawn of a possible new beginning.

Thought Picnic: Fighting slumber

Slow and low

Before it becomes drudgery feeding on an atmosphere of boredom and vacantness one must find opportunities for the eventful.

Yet, excitement is not an easy thing to come by, the result of which is a day that grinds slowly on as seconds pass like minutes and minutes chime away like the hour when the cuckoos pops out to say hello.

Blow no flow

The minimal cranial activity signals something else, a relapse into the depths of soporific stupor, but one is not where the desire can be given space.

The nod must only be offered in conversation and never as a loss of control of the neck muscles.

You fight the urge as fingers on your keyboard begin to type out a script in a language yet to be understood.

Glow to grow

Oh! For the tonic to stir but to stir to what apart from being more alert to inactivity?

Then strength returns with the will as the journey home begins. Rest is needful and the hope is to be fully rested for another day.

Never underestimate the benefits of good sleep

Sleeping off the pain

So I went to bed a bit unwell hoping to get some rest and relief from the pain. There is something about the healing power of sleep or maybe it is the calming effect of sleep.

Now, I rarely have long stretches of sleep, usually never more than 4 hours at best, but as much as possible it is restful and relaxing. It is one reason why I do not like my sleep disturbed since I am rarely one to be stirred from sleep to roll over and fall asleep again.

However, just like when I had to manage the pain of cancer, when I was tired enough, I just fell asleep and with that, my thoughts and consciousness are taken off concentrating on the pain exacerbating its effect, likewise with my eyeball hurting, I wrapped up and found two hours of restful and literally dreamless sleep.

Restored and refreshed

When I woke up, apart from feeling a bit hungry, the pain had gone and it was way past the time to take my pills too. Some immediate concerns trumped the regimen of pill-popping.

As for the healing power of sleep, I woke a lot better and quite ready to sleep off again, probably because I put my mind to it. Another 90 minutes past before I got up and had some coleslaw for a bit of strength before doing a bit of work and resting until dawn broke.

I am a lot better now, not nauseous, some bearable discomfort, but I’ll be fine. Thanks for all the best wishes.

Never underestimate the benefits of good sleep.

Battling with my vulnerabilities to pain

The eye of pain

Quietly, I have been going about things as if it did not matter. I’ve been in pain for the past few hours, my right eyeball giving me such discomfort, and I am no wiser as to why.

I have placed a cold pad over it to ease the pain, and I would have taken painkillers if I was not already feeling so nauseous.

I cannot attribute anything to this uncomfortable feeling, though it does feel like I am coming down with something I do not want to yield to.

No glory in emesis

Thrice, I have been bent over the toilet bowl, ready for emesis, salivating a lot the first two times and then finally evacuating my guts the third time.

The horrid feeling is that if you are vomiting on an empty stomach, you convulse and retch, groan and contort without much to show for it. Nasty does not describe the feeling.

When the retching stopped, I poured a bowl of cold water over my head and appeared to calm down. The eyeball pain is still there, but I probably should just take a rest.

Have me in your thoughts. Good night!

Walsall: A place from my past

Connecting with a past

One week in July, I decided to make a journey to a place I first saw when I was born, then last went to some 18 years ago.

I have an affinity for Walsall for so many reasons, many childhood memories and even though it is possible my early birth was consequent on the stress of my parents moving house just two days before from London, it just presents a sense of exclusiveness that one was not born in London.

For the way Walsall is pronounced, many confuse it with Warsaw but I was not born in Poland and hence I have to tell people it is near Birmingham if they know nothing about the geography of England, West Midlands or the Black Country.

Seeking ghosts of the past

However, as I arrived in Walsall, I thought I would try to trace a family I once knew. Her kid sister always took me boating at to the Arboretum, she, the big sister was married to a family friend and they had two girls who I last saw in 1978 in Nigeria before they separated and she returned to the United Kingdom with her girls soon after.

Searching through registry of Births, Deaths and Marriages, with just the knowledge of the name of the family friend who was married in England, I was able to obtain the maiden name of the sisters, then their dates of birth, the second marriage of the elder sister and then the trail ran cold.

The pleasures of the past

For the week I was in Walsall, I visited the places where we lived; all still standing buildings saved for posterity whilst on the other side of the road, the old row of houses had been demolished and replaced with new buildings.

One place I wanted to see was the Arboretum, it had a boating lake and I remember beaching my boat the last time I was there, but when I got there, it was quiet, no boats and the only life on the water were ducks and swans.

Apart from being a park and conservation area, a place to probably meditate, what made the Walsall Arboretum fun had been taken out of the place because some years ago a boater fell in the lake and drowned.

A boating tradition of decades going back in my memory to the 1960s of the enjoyment of life and happiness ended by reason of an unfortunate incident before the health superintendents waded in and decided this simple pastime was unsafe.

Holding back the day with the past

My view was erect a memorial for the dead, put up signs and warnings but do not take away the pleasure, though it is suggested the mismanagement of the place and insufficient funds might have been the death knell for that kind of excitement.

I walked around the park, took many pictures but the idyll that Walsall once represented was no more what I saw, I was saddened and crestfallen but the desire still remains to be laid to rest in the town of my birth.

Places change, people move on, history becomes a series of yesterdays stretching back in time and the moment is what we have to enjoy what is there, Walsall remains dear to me and the memories I have of the place might fade but will never be forgotten.

The kid sister who at times was baby sitter, chaperone, governess and big sister has a name that exemplified the enchanted childhood – Joy!

Thank you, Walsall.

My Walsall Slideshow.

Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Fidel Castro: At a time of his own choosing

Far from Cuba

I have not been able to convince myself that any of the policies of America towards Cuba for over 40 years have been productive, useful or effective.

Like Bette Midler’s song, Only in Miami is Cuba so far away and the Cuban-Americans there have influenced and lobbied to obtain favours and policies sometimes wholly detrimental to their homeland.

The news of Fidel Castro’s resignation might have had some people dancing in the streets, but I would observe that the man chose to go at a time of his choosing.

Age has a way of slowing people down and with Castro’s government giving Cuba one of the most developed medical healthcare delivery systems in the world he underwent intestinal surgery though the seriousness of his condition and slow recuperation of an octogenarian took him out of the public eye since July 2006.

Of rest and peace

The old man writes, “The night before, I slept than ever”, we can safely say the man has completed his journey and entering into his rest having prevailed against all the machinations of his enemies 90 miles north of his shores.

It is with interest that one notes that a piece of land which the United States leases in perpetuity from Cuba is Guantánamo Bay.

In all, the point I want to make, is, happy is the man who can decide at the time of his own choosing when he has completed his job and he can take a holiday and have a long rest been fulfilled in what he has achieved.

The only other person I know who has exercised this amazing but rare opportunity in life is Madiba Nelson Mandela, so at this point, I wish Fidel Castro a very happy, restful and peaceful retirement.