Blogland

I've been blogging since 2008. I first came across blogs when Wife in the North began blogging. As a journalist with the Sunday Times, she moved to the North East and wrote in an amusing way about the change in pace up there compared to London. One of her quotes which stuck with me was, when asked by her children on a car journey "where are we?", she replied "1959".

I then began blogging myself when my alcoholic husband Greg was making our family life intolerable. At the time, I believed trying to suppress everything and bottle it up, not telling friends and family, was the best option, but then needed somewhere to go to blow off steam. The blog provided me with that escape and tons of steam. It was a help for my sanity as well as a record where we were heading. I soon discovered I had a lot of followers - some in pretty much similar circumstances to me who all said they were relieved to read my experiences were like theirs. I also had a lot of alcoholic followers who, by the time Greg was fading fast and dying, said it had helped them back from the brink to sobriety. They realised they could not put themselves or their family through what was becoming my reality.

Of course, since Greg has died, my blog has morphed into something else - the ramblings or rantings of a retired, widowed Londoner. For me it has been a diary of important events to look back on - some things I had forgotten entirely when rereading some of the older posts. My followers seem to have dwindled from 70 at one stage to one or two now. Maybe the drama is what they came for and now the boring posts don't cut the mustard. For me, it will always just be a diary. I try to write once a week to keep it going, although to be honest, sometimes it is difficult to come up with something new. I oscillate between stopping altogether, but being afraid to drop a comfort blanket.

Some bloggers post everyday. Some of the earlier blogs I visited no longer exist, including Wife in the North. I wonder why you blog or why you read other's blogs?

Land Girl

I was away on holiday at the 80th celebrations of Victory in Europe (VE) Day, so I am a bit late to the party with this post. Just before VE Day, the manageress of the foodbank charity shop where I volunteer, wanted to dress the shop window with Union Jack flags, books about the Second World War and CDs of war time songs - as she put it, to celebrate peace, not glorify war. She asked us volunteers to provide photos of family who had served in the Second World War. My mother was a Land Girl so I provided the photo below of my mother (in the very centre) talking to the Duchess of Gloucester who had arrived with her entourage to watch the Land Girls at work, harvesting potatoes and doing their bit for King and Country. 

My mum would have been so chuffed to know her photo was on display in the local High Street.

SURVIVAL CLASS

Following on from my last post about being pre-diabetic......

When the problem was first diagnosed from raised sugar levels in my blood a few years ago, my GP suggested I be referred to our local gym for 12 free NHS-funded gym sessions. I was introduced to the lovely Gloria who took me on a tour of the gym and showed me what all the equipment was and got me exercising on them. She took weight, height, BMI and many other measurements and said she would update those as the weeks went by. I have never been a particularly sporty person - in fact I hated it with a passion at school and I even tried to be hockey goalkeeper, so I wouldn't have to run around the pitch!! I have never kept up sport in my adult life, so approached this new venture with somewhat nervous trepidation.

Surprisingly, as the weeks went by, I found I actually enjoyed exercising on the equipment and at the half-way stage all measurements were taken again and it was found I was losing a little weight (not that I had much to lose) but other statistics were reducing or improving, such as body fat percentage, muscle strength and cardiovascular endurance. A lot had improved by the end of the 12-week stage and a blood test revealed that I was no longer pre-diabetic.

The gym of course then asked if I would like to become a permanent member on senior citizen rates. The rates were so reasonable and far less per month than I was already paying to do a single pilates class at my local church. The gym rate would allow me to do hundreds of classes per week AND use their swimming pool AND use the gym whenever I liked - all for less than  I was paying for those 4 pilates classes per month. It was, as they now say, a no-brainer. 

I try to do three classes a week. One is a class purely for those of us who were referred from the NHS. A lot of the participants have high blood pressure, or have had heart attacks or strokes or maybe like me were pre-diabetic. The class is reasonably gentle with exercises that increase heart rate or with the use of weights increase muscle strength. I find I'm the most energetic one there and that gives me a lot of kudos.

On another day, I do two other classes back-to-back for anyone over the age of 60. The first of these two is what I call my manic class. Another lady calls it her survival class. The teacher is a lovely woman who herself is over 60 and plays fast beaty music in the background but I think she thinks we are all 16 and not 60. By the time you have done one of her 45-minute classes, you come out nearly on your hands and knees with the sweat pouring off you. I always feel I have achieved something by the end, but often half-way through I am clock-watching waiting for it to be over! Occasionally I will find the time to do some zumba classes or go into the actual gym itself, but parking fees often dictates how long I'll spend there and how often. 

Who knew, I would discover exercise in my seventies? Maybe I'll be one of those people who run the marathon in their nineties.

KEEPING FIT

A few years ago, after a routine blood test, I was told I was pre-diabetic. Not close enough to the cut-off point to be on medication, but close enough to need to do something about it.  I have always tried to eat sensibly and exercise a little at home, but confess I am a chocoholic and, because people know that, I often get chocolate as presents for my birthday in November or at Christmas. The blood test for diabetes is referred to as HbA1c and the cut-off point is 48 mmol/mol.  You don't need to know what that means, but only that my readings have been consistently about 42 over recent years and the latest one in January showed it was 47. Sugar levels can stay in your blood for three months, so to have an annual  blood test in January covers November and December - the very months when it is my birthday as well as Christmas and I gorge myself on the chocolate presents given to me. 

My GP was about to give me a stern talking-to when she gave me the recent results, but I have managed to convince her that January may be the wrong time of year to take the blood tests, as I am very good with my diet for the rest of the year. I have persuaded her to repeat the test in August or September and hope the readings will be more favourable. I'm trying hard not to eat chocolate and sweet things or too much carbohydrates. September will tell if I have succeeded. 

I also read recently that as we age, the level of sugar in our blood rises anyway and that the cut-of for diabetes should be about 56mmol/mol and not 48mmol/mol. If that is the case, my reading of 47 is way off the danger zone. If any professional out there can comment on that, I'd be interested to know.