What are your feelings about Facebook? Or any social media? 

Are you someone who constantly watches your feed and loves spending time, or wasting it, looking at pictures of other people's dinner?

I used to like it. It was an insight, sort of, into other people's lives. And it still is but it is starting to show another side of people that I really don't like. I am a member of lots of groups on FB. Groups that cover everything from classic science fiction artwork to DIY, to caravaning. These groups were all set up to provide useful information and help to the members, but it seems that they are being taken over by faceless keyboard warriors who like to profess their own opinions and shout down everyone else or just throw insults into the ring. Why is this? It seems to have got worse since the COVID lockdowns. 

Someone posed a question on one of the caravaning groups the other day, asking about something that would, normally, be in the user manual. The poster stated in the post, quite clearly, that they didn't have a manual and most of the responses took that into account and answered the question as best they could. However, one respondee replied with "RTFM". A bit curt, I thought, and proves that the responder hadn't paid attention to, or read, the post. That reflects on the character of the responder not the poster or the group but why respond that way? Can you not read the manual? Can you not download a manual? would have been a more polite way of showing that you hadn't read the post, instead you make yourself look like an idiot.

There are many other instances of people responding just by insulting the poster, 'Moron!' 'Bell£nd!' and worse. Why? Does it make these faceless keyboard warriors feel empowered? 

And then there are the people who force their opinions on you with no opportunity to debate. As far as they are concerned their opinion is fact and yours does not count. there is no consideration of any evidence, scientific or otherwise. It's like those people who tell me they know all about the Freemasons, satanic rituals, goats etc. When I tell them it's all rubbish they respond with 'Well, you would say that, wouldn't you?' or 'You are not high enough in the order to know that'. People are developing closed minds. Or maybe we've always had closed minds and the propensity to hate our fellow man and now we have the means to spread it without having the consequence of someone punching you in the face. The dildo of consequence rarely comes lubricated...

Also, feel free to tell me that you believe in God, whichever incarnation that may be, good for you! But don't tell me I have to believe in the same one. 

 

And as for Twitter, sorry, X... Since a certain space pioneer took over that seems to have gone downhill as well. I now get notifications about women without many clothes on. Rarely happened before Mr Musk so I wonder what has changed. Maybe the dept that dealt with standards was one of those that was decimated in the takeover.

Social media should be a tool for good but it seems that more and more, it is just a platform for the haters, the small-minded, and the petty. It needs to go back to pictures of my dinner and other people's cats in fancy dress. And the odd selfie of some scantily clad young lady with a duck pout. 

TTFN!

Regards

Giant68 😉

Rabbit Holes...

 I have fallen down some rather deep rabbit holes lately. That's what happens when you are bored and have nothing to do. Not well enough to go out for a walk, or work in the garden, or in the house. It's frustrating. So I potter a bit, do what I can until I am knackered, which doesn't take long then I sit down and jump head first into the rabbit hole that is Youtube. 

Obviously, the rabbit hole in this context is from Alice in Wonderland. She falls down the hole and discovers a whole new world. Which is just what YouTube delivers. From music to unboxers. Who knew you could make money from unboxing something on camera?? Maybe that's what I need to get into before the money runs out. 

It usually starts with something innocuous. A band I like, or a podcast. Then I follow a link and end up at another band I've never heard of so I listen to that. Which leads to another, then another and the rabbit hole gets deeper and deeper. 

The latest was a yearning to listen to music that would've been on the radio when I was getting ready for school. Early to mid-70s, my parent's choice of music. Something that we would all be influenced by. My dad's favorites were a bit older than my mum's, he was considerably older than her. But the track he liked was Lynn Anderson's I Beg Your Pardon, I Never Promised You a Rose Garden. So I started with that. These things always bring back memories, good and bad.

I ended up looking through videos of bluegrass music. Yeah, I know, weird direction for this rabbit hole. But I quite enjoyed it. There's a band called Southern Raised that were pretty good. That led to the Dead South and then it started to get really weird. At some point, you have to watch the Ukelele Orchestra Of Great  Britain...

https://youtu.be/JYCrBlt9BtU?si=KGkfPl5SttSRyPk8

https://youtu.be/T0lwr_jcGZQ?si=RYCvpl-u6BWaXRMa

These all lead to Spotify playlists of some really weird stuff. I have a great playlist of 70's cheese that consists of artists such as David Soul, Leo Sayer, Gilbert O'Sullivan and many others. I bet that whatever music you are into, be it punk, heavy metal or classical there is some guilty pleasure that you will listen to every now and then. 😉

Having been originally trained as an engineer I have subscribed to a couple of channels run by amateur engineers. They are quite good although they probably label me as a geek or nerd. Which is probably true. But check out Big Clive anyway.

Then comes food. I have enjoyed food all my life, not just because it nourishes me but because of the vast range of flavours and textures. So then I subscribed to the Food Review Club. They travel the country checking out fast food restaurants. They did one near me in Southampton not so long ago. Apparently, the deli sandwich was pretty good. They've started doing more upmarket establishments as well now. 

And then there is the funny stuff. Turdtowns is a tongue-in-cheek look at some pretty shitty places. In fact, the guy who does this one finds crap in every town. It seems nowhere is fit to live according to him. 

Sometimes you do start to wonder what drugs some of these people are taking. But if you put enough stuff on the platform and enough people subscribe then you can make some decent money. Maybe that's what I need to do. But I think I need to get a lot weirder before I can do that.

Till next time...

Regards

Giant68 😁

I think that photo of me is pretty old now. I must sort out another one. 

Road rage? No, Wheelchair rage.

 If you have been reading my last few blogs you will know that I have been a little poorly. Because of this, I have been left with quite a few medical issues and I am pretty weak. Therefore yesterday was quite difficult.

Yesterday was the day we went to Goodwood Revival. I like to go every year as Mini Giant68 plays a major part in organising this and the Festival of Speed. I like to go just so I can see how good he is at his job, and how proud I have to be of him. But don't tell him that. I am lucky as I have 2 children who achieved great things and 3 grandchildren that, I am sure will go on to do the same.

Anyway, Revival. Mrs Giant68 came very close to Mark Webber and then held a snake. We rubbed shoulders with the likes of Jenson Button, Karun Chandhok, Dominic Chinea (Repair Shop, of which I am a great fan), and various others. The benefits of having connections to someone senior at Goodwood mean breakfast, lunch, and afternoon tea in the Drivers Club. 

Usually, when we attend we would expect to do somewhere between 12000 & 15000 steps. At present there is no way that I can do that. I can barely manage 1000 before I am too knackered to carry on and am wiped out for the rest of the day. Also, at the moment, going out for the day is made more difficult due to the medication I must take. In the 16 pills I take every morning are diuretics, quite a few. This means that through the mornings I will be going for a pee, roughly, every 10 - 15 minutes. So to go out for a day means that I can't take these pills. Which leads to all sorts of problems the next day, and later that day actually. 

This time we were accompanied by 2 good friends who, for the sake of argument, we will call Rob and Jill, basically because those are their names. We always have a great time with these two and this time would be the same. Apart from the fact that Rob pushed me around all day in a wheelchair. This is frustrating for someone who has always been independent and able to get about under his own steam, but I had to admit that I had to give in and submit to this. it did make life a little easier, for me if not for Rob.

                                                                                        Image shamelessly pinched from Mrs giant68

This gave me a different perspective. I have been 6'8" since I was 14 years old. For 44 years I have looked over the top of crowds of people. This time my eye level was at about the same height as most people's backsides. Some were quite admirable, some not so. But, either way, the experience made me feel quite claustrophobic. I didn't enjoy the experience of being hemmed in. There were massive crowds of people there. This is where the wheelchair rage comes in. 

Another image nicked from the missus.

People are, quite often, frickin' ignorant and rude bastards. While I expected no favours just because I was in a wheelchair I was quite surprised how many people would not get out of the way, would actively get in the way, and would get so close that I felt they would sit on my lap. I had my walking stick with me and it was so tempting to start hooking ankles with it. Rob did an excellent job of navigating all the obstacles but it was infuriating, especially for someone like me who gets annoyed when people stop, suddenly, right in front or walk slowly while taking up the entire path. So now, to add to the pedestrian rage, I have wheelchair rage. And that was just one day. How do regular wheelchair users survive without losing it and going postal? They have to deal with much more than I did. They have to get on and off buses, and trains. etc. They have to get around busy shops. I admire them. And will watch out for them now. Make sure you do as well. In fact, if you see someone in a wheelchair struggling, actively help. Actually, be helpful to anyone struggling, that makes more sense.     

I am now going to carry on sitting on my sofa, watching the TV while trying to recover from yesterday's shenanigans.

Regards

Giant68 :-)

Let's talk about food.

 Yes, let's talk about food. After spending all that time in hospital with only hospital food to sustain me I have a few opinions.

The food in hospital is, I would've thought, carefully thought out so that it will sustain patients and aid in their recovery. The standard portion size, to my mind, is far too small. It took me a while to realise that if I wanted to survive I could ask for a larger portion. But a larger portion of what? Some of the food is quite nice, there was a chicken casserole that was delicious. Some of it is quite bland. Some of it is just what it looks like, grey, brown, white, and tasted the same. 

It struck me as strange that, as a diabetic, the menu was not particularly diabetic-friendly. Lots of carbs. I had to keep my blood sugar down but with the choice of meal on offer that was pretty hard to do, unless I ate a salad 3 times a day. 

In the end, I asked Mrs Giant68 to bring me food that she had cooked at home. There was a small kitchen by the nurses' station where she could heat it up for me. That was heavenly. Mind you, one evening I had a salad purely because I wanted a treat, Bakewell tart and custard. That was amazing.

Moving out of hospital I find that, sometimes, I am a bit perplexed by food. Some years ago I created a small blog page on Facebook called Hairy Fannies. It was a mix of Hairy Bikers and Fanny Craddock, it tickled me to think that people would find it and be completely disappointed about what they found. It was all about food and my opinions on it. It has sunk into the background of Facebook as I didn't really have the time or the inclination to carry on with it. 

These days there are many people who do similar things and much better than I can do. Have a look at the Food Review Club on YouTube, its informative and entertaining and reviews food that real people want to eat. 

But what about the posh food? I have always fancied having enough money to go to the fancy, multiple Michelin-starred, eateries to see if the food they serve is as good as it's made out to be. I rather think that it's not. My cousin and her husband are currently holidaying in a caravan in the Lake District. They have a restaurant near them that serves the poncey, posh food. For a mere £200 (ish) per person you can have a main course. Another 100 quid you can have a glass of wine to go with it. I would want the best and largest slice of steak & kidney pie, the fluffiest mashed potatoes, the finest Brussel sprouts, a bottle of malt whiskey and a troupe of dancing  girls to entertain me for less than that!

But the menu consists of such delights as 'aquadulce bean wafer, horseradish vinegar, aynsome juices and herbal oil' 

Now, I have no idea what all that is. It sounds like a group of made-up words, something from a Dhal story. 

Or the following delight: ' Rowlands summer succulents, juice of the shells, yoghurt, salted cobnut and marigold' WTF??

You look at the images of the dishes and think 'that's not enough to keep a sparrow alive let alone a grown adult'

It seems that food has become an art form. It has to look pretty, the plate must be decorated with a skidmark of 'ju' and then you can have a Michelin star. 

And then there are the burgers that are so high, with 6 patties, cheese, onions, truffles, pineapple, a roasted quail etc. A burger so high that you have to dislocate your jaw like an egg-eating snake to be able to eat it. Has nobody thought of making it wider? Years ago, I used to frequent a little Greek takeaway in Southampton during my lunch break. It sold burgers with a couple of patties, cheese, eggs, onions and chips. It was served in a bap that was about 6" across and you could easily bite into it. That's what we need.

Go and have a look at the Food Review Club on YouTube, they show some amazing, and eatable foods that are satisfying, fit in your mouth, and in a perfect world would get a Michelin star.

Regards

Giant68

   

Homeward bound...

 

I have finally got home after being in a hospital bed for two and a half weeks. It took a while from being told I could go home to actually going home due to a wait for the drugs to be brought up to the ward. In fact, they were going to be so late that I went home without them and returned the next morning to collect them. 

Now this has got me thinking. I can understand where some drugs come from. Ancient man found that when he had a headache he could chew on a branch of the willow and it would ease. And there were many others, witch hazel, etc. But some I just don't get. Ancient man would look at a plant with nice berries and think 'They look tasty' and eat a few. The next morning he could have a dose of diaorh  dearo the shits and think ' I wonder if it was those berries, I won't eat them again'  Or he could wake up dead. His friends would gather round, look at him, dead on the floor, and say ' Right, chaps, let's not eat those berries.' 

Sensible. Trial and error, typical early science. You start to wonder where the plans to boil stuff and see if you can remove the poisons and see if you can make it edible came from. Rhubarb, rich in vitamin A, a substance that can kill you if too concentrated? Who eats rhubarb anyway, horrible stuff. 

I have come out of hospital with lots of new drugs. One of which needs to counteract the effects of another drug. I am on large doses of steroids and that can lead to osteoporosis. Therefore I have to take an alendronic acid tablet once a week. It must be taken on an empty stomach, with a full glass of water and I must remain vertical for 30 minutes after taking it. This is down to the fact that if it sticks in my oesophagus it will eat its way through. How many times did they feed it to volunteers before they found a method of taking it that wouldn't ruin the patients' food pipe??

'Oops, let's try it with half a glass of water...'

'Nope, burnt through again. Brig in the next victim sorry, patient'

' Full glass of water seems to work but it still wrecked his oesophagus. I wonder if we should get him to sit up for 10 minutes?'

'So 10 minutes didn't work, nor did 20. Let's try 30 minutes. Next!'

There are probably many other drugs like this, chemotherapy drugs, for example. It is a good thing that these have been discovered but there must have been a lot of trust and mistakes along the road. 

Only a short one today, only because my brain was overthinking stuff.

Regards

Giant68 :-)

 

Still here...

 Two and a half weeks later I am still tied to a hospital bed, although there is light at the end of the tunnel and I may be out of here by the end of this week. 

My breakfast this morning consisted of a bowl of bran flakes, a glass of apple juice, a coffee, 16 pills washed down with another 3 disolved in a cup of water. Seems like this is my life now. If I want to stay alive and functioning i have to take pills. 

But that is not what this is about. This is about this place, the hospital. A place where I have seen the best and the worst of humanity. 

The best? Docrors, nurses, cleaners, the helpers who bring the dinner round. They are the carers and in a perfect world, with an unlimited pot of money, they would all be given what they deserve. And they deserve a lot, in money and respect. 

A collection of consultants worked to keep me alive. Very focused individuals, Very clever people who stood and scratched their heads and hoped what they had done was enough t get me through the night. They admitted that the next morning. They are people who understand how the drugs work and how they interact with other drugs. If they gave me this one it would effect that one so I would have to take this as well which would stop that one working... They worked it out in the end and I am still here. 

The nurses. They are the ones who understand how to get these drugs into me. I watched a consultant fiddle with a drip, upping the amount, while three nurses looked on in horror. Once he'd gone they set it properly. The nurses who had to clean me up after a particulary hazardous use of the commode. It's a humiliating thing, the commode. But they were reassuring while they cleaned me up and made me feel a little less humiliated.  They were chatty first thing in the morning as they come round to do the first obs of the day, blood pressure, oxygen saturation etc. we had a giggle over the fact that I quite like the potassium supplement when everyone else thinks it's disgusting. The nurses who change the beds every morning to ensure our comfort. The nurses who suddenly have to go running as the alarm sounds as someone has a heart attack. The nurses who rarely sit down during their shift. I'm a big fan of nurses, and not just because of the outfit. 

The cleaners who ensure that there is an infection free environment, or as close as you can get to one. Here for 12 hours in a soul destroying, monotonous job.

The people who deliver our breakfast, lunch and dinner after a kitchen has taken some ingredients and turned them into something quite inedible. 

And a special mention for Valentin. An old curmudgeon, perfect word for him. He is a nursing assistant who has been working nights while I have been in E3 ward. He is in his 60's, Jewish and very grumpy. He told me off for something n the first night I was in here. But it turns out that he has a very dry and cutting sense of humour. He makes sure that we are all comfortable, making sure that we are all moving and not laying in the same position all night, pressure sores. I was awake in the early hours the other night and he gave a quick thumbs up to make sure I was OK. And he makes us all hot chocolate before he turns the lights out.  It's very 'Cider House Rules' I can almost hear him saying "Goodnight you Princes of Maine..."  

As for the worst... I have spent some time waiting in A&E for a bed to made available for me. In there are the drunks and the yobs. The people who are just wasting the time of the medical staff. Shouting and being aggressive to people who are trying to treat their wounds. Wounds recieved because they got drunk and decided that a fight would be a great way to end Friday night at the pub. Although there was one that made me laugh and that was an old lady, grubby dress and greasy, grey hair who stormed through A&E with her zimmer frame yelling " get out of the way you f#cking f#uckers!" 

Next time I will probably be back to the grumpy, stupid stuff, but this one felt right.

Regards

Giant68 (-:

Sex and drugs and rock and rock and roll, blood and soup and wee!

 Strange title for a blog, I know, but I have had a bit of a strange time just recently. This is not a blog that will dwell on a dark time, although it could and I think that I would be justified. I don't want sympathy, although a week ago i would have liked someone just to grab me in a big hug and say "Everything will be alright" even though it patently wasn't. I was in hospital and expected to die. A team of doctors were very worried and I heard conversations about me that should not have been heard. 

However, it appears, obviously, that neither God nor the Devil wanted me that night and the Grim Reaper left my hospital room without any company.

I have, currently been in hospital for a week and a half and while I have been in here I have had time to contemplate, make some life-changing decisions, and observe. 

The observation is generally about things that have happened to me. But first I must say that my stay in a Cardiac High Dependency ward has shown me that a: Doctors are the most focused people I have ever met. A whole team was working on me, trying to figure out what the feck to do to save my life. And b: Nurses are the most amazing people on the planet. A doctor will say "Right, what we need to do is get these drugs into this patient" They have no idea how that will happen when every space is already taken up with cannulas. The nurse will look at the patient and say " OK, I think there is room for just one more cannula on the end of his penis, stick it there, next to the catheter pipe..." This is not so far from the truth, to be honest. And the answer to "How much rubber pipe can we get up this old man?" is quite a lot. How many of you now have a strange look on your face and watering eyes? How do you think I felt with all that garden hose up my bits???

Anyway, back to observations. There is a tendency to not finish anything. In the middle of the night busy nurses would come in to do the hourly obs, turn the lights up to a point of burning out my retinas and then not turning them back down again when they were done. I would then be forced to press the buzzer and call them back to turn them off. Wasting more of their time than if they had just turned them back down in the first place.  But that wasn't the worst. I had a catheter up the todger. Not the most comfortable thing. You'd think it would be good. wouldn't you? No desire to go for a pee, just let it keep flowing... 

Very true. However, nurses would come in and move the bag so that they could empty it. Invariably they would hang it quite high for ease of draining it. Then they would leave it there. Higher than my kidneys... Can you imagine the discomfort of the back pressure? I bet you can't.  Again, one of those things that waste even more time than just putting it back in the first place. 

Drugs. Jeez! I can't believe the amount of drugs  that have been pumped into me. Dopamine, noradrenaline, Furosemide, Potassium, magnesium, oramorph (nectar of the Gods!). The tablets every morning and evening. I even had some being pumped straight into my heart.

Rock and roll. Not really. There was no rock and roll here, sorry. 

Blood. Lots of blood. I had two cannulas pop out of me and spray blood everywhere. I had an arterial line in that decided to leak all over the floor. 

Soup. That was the staple food while I have been in here. Pea & ham, chicken, veg, it was all very nice and not too heavy. Too much food and I would be forced to use the commode. I had to a couple of times and it is humiliating. The nurses have to clean you up and they never do it quite right. Not their fault. The second time, I filled it. Literally. That was the biggest walnut whip i have ever seen! I felt sorry for the nurse that had to take that away and beat it with a stick to get rid of it. I also thought that I had got away without making a mess with the soup. Unfortunately I had spilt quite a bit down my gown.

Wee... While I was unfortunate to have the catheter in there were a couple of times where it just let go. With the back pressure it would force its way around the pipe and I would be soaked in urine. At least it was my own I suppose...

Once I'm out of hospital I shall insert some pictures but for the moment you will just have to use your imagination.

Regards

Giant68 (-: