Stories, Rhymes and Brain fallout.

  Ynyslas Driving through West Wales.   Today we went to Ynyslas, Near Borth, “a bit up from Aberystwyth”. Well worth the visit.   Pure Nature, miles of empty beaches and dunes.   The guy who collected the £4 for the car park asked if we had come all the way from Belgium just to visit Ynyslas; we lied and said yes. First, I visited the men’s toilets, very clean. On the way back, I met a Guy who had broken both his feet; it looked painful, and he had a job walking. His wife was angry that he had “done it just before the holiday”; now she had to do all the driving. We parked next to a camper van from Birmingham; they had a dog called Ralph, the two children were called ‘go and play’ and ‘no, there is no internet here’. I sat and shared some of my cashew nuts with a seagull; the gull just stared at me between nuts. I wondered if gulls could have a nut allergy. The gull was very patient and not pushy; very polite, actually. In Ireland once, a gull stole my fish and chips...

  I belong to a group of people known as the worriers. The people who let their day be decided by the news, and the news is always bad. Okay, the news might end on some uplifting story or sports achievement, but before you get to that, you have to sit through a half hour of doom and gloom. War, drought and forest fires, megalomaniac tyrants, genocides, crime, and economic downturn forecasts. By the time it gets to the one or two ‘good news’ items, I’m already convinced of the world’s pending doom, be it through Climate change or violence. Not that I can actually do anything about any of it. My grand contribution is to recycle, avoid buying useless junk, nod at the neighbour, eat fresh vegetables now and then, and pretend I’m not judging everyone. Supposedly this creates ‘positive energy’, whatever that means. It’s hard to keep up the act when the world seems determined to set itself on fire just to see what happens. So I worry. Meanwhile, in my immediate vicinity, life is carrying ...

  Walking. I love to walk. It’s the most painful of my pastimes, but I still love it. If you follow my blog or social media, you probably know I have two new knees and two new hips. My legs aren’t what they used to be. Nothing really is after seventy, and I’m three years past that. My bad joints are a family gift—rheumatoid arthritis and a couple of rough tackles from my amateur football days ended any hope of a pain-free old age. I can feel it catching up with me. I don’t expect to be free from pain; lots of people deal with joint problems. I’m lucky to live in Western Europe, where we have good health care. As my dad used to say, ‘at least when your body hurts you know you’re alive’. That’s one way to look at it. Still, the pain after a walk can have me cussing. That’s when painkillers help, thankfully. I also have blood issues, so I take blood thinners every day and can only use certain painkillers. When I go on holiday, I bring my painkillers along—one a day keeps the agony awa...

  Van IS naar insuline en suikers. Meer mensen sterven door diabetes dan door terrorisme, veel meer, feit. En toch hebben wij meer angst voor terroristen dan voor suiker. Het enige verschil is dat terroristen ervoor zorgen dat er  plots een einde komt aan jouw leven en suiker zorgt voor een langzame maar even zekere dood en een iets zwaardere doodskist. Er zouden veiligheidsagenten moeten waken aan de ingang van elke bakkerij of snoepwinkel als je de cijfers naast elkaar zet. En toch worden we zelfs via allerlei reclamefilmpjes en advertenties aangemoedigd om meer te snoepen en ongezond te eten. Het zou hetzelfde zijn als de overheid wapens en explosieven zou geven aan terreurgroepen en belastingvermindering zou geven om nog meer mensen te doden. Vanwaar de onevenwichtige angst? De ene zaait angst, de andere zaait een goed gevoel, body positivity en onaangename bijwerkingen. Raar toch: de doodsaantallen door diabetes en gerelateerde aandoeningen zijn enorm, en toch worden de b...