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