Simply Marvellous
Another bloody bloggerThis week
This week has been a funny old week.
This week started with a panic. Lots to do. A To Do list from hell.
But this week has been surprisingly ok. Jobs have gone well and I’ve managed to clear all but two jobs off the list.
This week has gone quite slowly. I’ve totally lost track of what day it is. Each day.
This week has also been quite christmassy. This morning I played a few hours of Christmas music on spotify.
This week will end with companies Christmas party. I don’t like my colleagues much but … well … You know it is Christmas.
This week has seen me feel much happier with life than I have in recent weeks. Next year I’m going to have a great year.
This week I’m going to win the EuroMillions.
Rudeness
I hate rudeness. I really do.
I don’t just mean swearing – we all do that – although I don’t believe anyone needs to use obscenities as every other word like some people do. And please don’t get me started on people who swear around my kids because that will be another blog for another day.
On Wednesday evening I was in London. I got to Victoria during rush hour and I guess I was going in the opposite direction to most people at the time. I was arriving as they were all wanting to get home after a busy day. But is that any excuse for not having any consideration for other users of the station? I have to say, I’d arrived early and wasn’t in a hurry at all on this occasion but even when I am in a rush, I look for big gaps to get through rather than squeezing between people. I try to avoid bumping into people or making any sort of body contact.
I have to say that, on this occasion, I wasn’t the victim of rudeness but what I witnessed was enough to make me angry. At one point I saw a middle aged man with a walking stick struggling to walk at any great pace. It should have been obvious that he had quite a serious disability to one or both of his legs but it didn’t stop someone barging him from behind to get passed. And I mean a barge – the man was nearly knocked over.
And then I saw another man, a tourist complete with luggage, step out in front of someone and then proceeding to turn 180° on the spot, nearly taking out the guy that was still trying to get passed him.
Away from the station this week, the things that really annoy me are when people don’t hold doors open for you – most people don’t even look behind them when walking through a door to see if there is anyone behind them. And then there’s the people who walk through a door you are holding open, leaving you standing there holding it as if you are there to do just that job. And do they say “Thank you”? You’re lucky if you get an acknowledgement.
What about those people who stop at the top of an escalator either chatting or to think about where they want to go next. It’s amazing that there aren’t multi person pile-ups at the top of escalators more often. It’s not like the people behind you can stop! Move!
And that’s the thing about so many people today – they just don’t have any consideration for the other people around them. We’d all be a bit happier if we all treated each other better because stress and anxiety is infectious but smile and hold the door open for someone or say “excuse me” or “Thank you” and watch the reaction you receive.
… in which our hero takes on the mighty McDonalds
Just north of the Thames Estuary, before it reaches our glorious capital that lies further west, is an area of Essex called Thurrock. It’s about as glamourous as an outbreak of Chicken Pox on school photo day. Lying adjacent are other, equally beautiful blisters like Grays, Tilbury, and Dartford.
There are a few reasons why you may wish to visit this area of Essex:
- You are just passing through
- You want your hub caps nicked
- You have a death wish
- You’re shopping
Shopping? Strangely just off the M25 and inches from the Dartford Crossing sit The Lakeside Shopping Centre (a shopping centre that sits beside a lake but it’s not as idyllic as it sounds) and the Thurrock Retail Park.
On Sunday, it was in the latter that I found myself in, a trip to Ikea was planned – though for reasons to worthless to explain here we didn’t make it inside – but a brief lunch in the car park of McDonalds was what we got.
Now McDonalds. I don’t mind them really. I’ll choose something healthier occasionally but most parents would agree that sometimes, just sometimes, when out shopping with young, hungry children, seeing those golden arches can be a Godsend. I’m certainly not one of these people that vehemently hates them and all they stand for but something I saw on this aprticular visit did make me very angry.
As previously mentioned, the retail park practically sits in the shadow of the QE2 Bridge at the Dartford Crossing. It is a large retail park home to the usual retail park suspects including Ikea, B&Q, Argos, PC World, Next, Frankie & Benny’s, Pizza Hut, KFC and, of course, MaccyD’s. As far as retail parks go I’d like to say that it looked better than most. But I can’t. It looks just like a massive industrial estate with a road network like a maze and roundabouts that cause chaos whatever the time of day. Several huge carparks are surrounded on two or three sides by massive, ugly boxes with a logo on the front. You know the kind of place.
McDonalds is no different to any other retailers here. It sits just off a roundabout, set in it’s own cramped car park surrounded by mounds of ugly bushes and a few insignificant patches of grass. Although insignificant, it is the areas of turf which caused my angst. They really are very small – you’d probably not normally notice them amongst the brick and concrete. I would probably have not noticed them myself either except that as we drove by I noticed water streaming across the pavement and into the gutter. At first I thought it was a leaking pipe but the I noticed that, sitting in the long, lush green grass was a lawn sprinkler pumping out water everywhere.
In some ways we have been quite lucky this year, enough rain has meant that reservoirs haven’t emptied as much as in previous summers and no drought orders have been implemented. Having said that, the UK has a constant water shortage and these days the use of water sprinklers is pretty much frowned upon. Grass, it is a tough old plant and gardeners are now being told not bother watering their lawns because, while it might start to look a bit yellow, a few weeks without water won’t kill it. I wonder why then McDonalds feels that having a few feet of emerald in an area of Essex otherwise grey and beige is so important. Especially in late October. I also wonder if the McDonalds operative, who failed to switch off the hosepipe before he picked the sprinkler up to move it across to another area of grass resulting in both the car park and also the the cars parked in it being given a soaking, was aware that his employer has an environmental policy which reads:
“At McDonald’s we recognise our responsibility to protect and preserve the environment for future generations to come.
Our goal is simple, to achieve continuous environmental improvement across all areas of our business.”
McDonalds may argue that it harvests rainwater for the purpose of keeping it’s little bit of Essex looking beautiful. But I doubt it. And if they do go to the trouble of harvesting rainwater then maybe they should use it for flushing the toilets instead of wasting it on the lawn and allowing it to run down the road.
Maybe I’m the only one who’s bothered about this? Am I making a story out of nothing? I don’t know. Tell me.
Alcohol in the UK
It was amazing to read in the paper yesterday that a woman – I think in Leeds – was refused the purchase of a couple of bottles of wine even though she was in her fifties.
Why? Because she had her 17 year old daughter and 18 year old niece with her.
So? You may well ask. When the woman tried to make the purchase, along with other groceries I hasten to add, she was asked for ID. Replying that she was flattered but she was the wrong side of fifty, the checkout assistant said it wasn’t her ID she wanted but the two girls – how did she know she wasn’t buying it for them?
The manager and now Morrisons themselves have come forward to defend the member of staff and the actions she took stating that is their policy. It’s interesting to read that if the daughter was younger than 13 they would have allowed the purchase because it would have been more unlikely to have been for her.
So, now it seems that we live in a age where teenagers can’t help their parents with shopping. In a society where every move we make is viewed as suspicious. Where all our purchases are monitored.
Of course it wouldn’t happen anywhere else – one can’t imagine a shop on the continent acting in the same way. So, why does this country have such a problem with alcohol? Why do we have this culture of going out and drinking to excess? Of getting drunk, lairy and looking for a fight. Nowhere else seems to.
It’s interesting to note that in countries such as Spain, France and Italy, alcihol doesnt have the same stigma that it does in the UK. Children are introduced to wine at a much earlier age (in small doses of course) so that when they to their teens they don’t feel the need to go out and binge drink.
But that is our drinking culture – drink too much, eat a kebab, throw up, get in a fight, cop off with someone, vandalise something, wake up the morning with a hangover that renders you completely useless and unable to remember a thing.
I’ve never been into that. Life’s too short and time’s too precious for me to want to waste it with my head down the toilet bowl or in bed moaning about my headache.
Of course, I enjoy a drink. I like going out and having a few beers with mates but I’ll stop when I think I’ve had enough because, if I’m having an enjoyable evening I’d like to actually remember it.
Whatever the solution to this countries drinking problem is, stopping people from buying a couple of bottles of wine, just because they are accompanied by their teenage daughter isn’t the answer and Morrisons should be ashamed of themselves for thinking it is.
Another cracking idea Mr Brown.
So, today Gordon Brown announced plans to sell off some of the government’s assets in order to rake in some extra cash to pay off some of the billions of pounds it has run up in debt. One of these assets he plans to sell is the Dartford Crossing. To visit family, I have to use the crossing several times a year and the thought always fills me dread having been stuck in horrendous hold-ups there on many occasions. I truly feel sorry for anyone who has to use it everyday. To anyone who doesn’t know, The Dartford Crossing is the part of the M25 (the motorway that circles London) that crosses the river Thames. Going northbound you go under the river and southbound you go over the impressive QE2 Bridge. Using the crossing isn’t unavoidable but doing so, if travelling to Essex or East Anglia, would be even more costly and time consuming.
The Dartford Crossing was supposed to be only a toll until the cost of the bridge was paid off but that final payment was made several years ago (infact the bridge has now been for several times over) yet the charges have remained in place, continuing to add to government coffers. Supposedly the money is used to improve the nations road and transport but show me the evidence of that.
It’s an interesting game to play, while stuck in a queue without your £1.50 in hand, to actually work out how much the place must take but a quick search on Google this morning told me that the crossing takes over £70m a year or about £7000 an hour! Where does this money really go?
And now the government wants to sell it for £1bn. While selling assets like this might help the government reduce some of the mounting billions it owes it’s small fry when you think about the hundreds of billions it has run up in debt. It’s not great news for the driver is it? The Crossing will be run as a business, profits will be used to pay for the bosses annual bonuses and the toll is likely to rise far more regularly. How will the government now find the money for road improvements without this particularly road tax? By adding more on to all the current taxes drivers already pay in licences and fuel duty?
The only half decent outcome will be if Richard Branson get’s hold of it. Imagine the guffaws everytime you pay to enter the Virgin Tunnel …
Dear client …
Dear client (current or potential),
I am a reasonable guy. I’m hardworking, polite, reasonable (financially and in personality) and easy going. I will deliver the job you want as you want it on time.
However, if our working relationship is to succeed there are a few things I’d like you to take into account.
• I do only have one pair of hands
• Although I will work on your job as quickly as I possibly can, I haven’t been sitting bored, waiting in anticpation of your call/email.
• I am a human.
• I respond best when treated like a human.
• I have enough trouble getting my kids to say please and thank you but manners are important to me. The occasional please and thank you from you would be greatly appreciated. Or even cheers or ta.
• If you send me an email, please don’t write the entire message in the title space.
• Patience is a virtue, not just a card game.
• If you are happy with a job, please let me know. It makes me feel all warm and gooey knowing my hard work has been appreciated.
In return for you reading and understanding these few simple suggestions I promise to reward you with punctuality, loyalty, friendliness, politeness and above all… great work.
Thank you very much.
This is a little clip that’s been doing the rounds recently. As well as being very funny, it’s very true!
A man’s need to crave something new
I believe it to be part of the male psyche to crave something so much that we just have to have it. Any other option is just not … well, there is no other option. We won’t give up, the wanting and desire become so extreme that it can actually affect our personality, disrupting sleep and making us become sulky, moody, childlike.
Eventually, we’ll get whatever it is we had wanted, the interest lasts for a couple of weeks (sometimes more but probably actually less) before boredom sets in and the once desired object is tossed aside and the need for something else takes it’s place.
For some men, it’s women (or maybe men) that they’ll covet – chasing someone for days, weeks, months until they get what they want, they keep them for a while, another notch on the bedpost, then boredom and they’ll move onto someone new.
In my case, my weak spot (well, one of them at least) is gadgets. In the past I have hankered after phones, computers, iPods and all sorts of small, shiny electronic marvels. That is until I found my cure in the form of an iPhone which – after months of salivating over them in websites, in magazines and in shop windows – I still love months after finally succumbing to temptation. In fact, there is no sign of this particular love affair ending.
To a lesser extent I still have urges for books, music and DVDs (at the moment collecting the films of Pedro Almodovar has overtaking the need to complete my collection of Scarlett Johansson or Juliette Binoche).
I reckon that it was turning 30 that led a colleague to move from gadgets to far more expensive (and occasionally dangerous) yearnings while his boredom threshold seems to have decreased. It was a need to prove his youth I believe that led him, over the past two years, to experiment with kite surfing, squash and cycling and that has seen him applying for triathlons and marathons.
He’s a 3 bars of chocolate-a-day guy so good luck to him but I think I’ll stick to my iPhone and Spanish movies. For now at least.
Rock n Roll Heaven
I wrote this nearly fifteen years ago. It got published in a little book called em one. I’m digging it out again because I want more people to read it and because today seems like quite a good day to resurrect it. At the time, Time Out said it was great. Maybe I should rewrite it now, add in some new characters. What would John Lennon and George Harrison say to Michael Jackson? Probably “Ere, give us our money back you!”.
Rock n Roll Heaven
I woke up dead.
No, honest I did.
Jimi Hendrix woke me up.
Yeah, that Jimi Hendrix.
Spliff in one hand, guitar in the other. He offered me both in turn but it was too early for either so I turned them down and asked for a coffee.
He stood up and shook his head – glitter fell from his dreadlocks.
I never realised how tall he was.
I must have nodded off again ’cause I was woken up again.
Jimi was gone.
Sandy Denny stood in his place. She had a mug of coffee in her hand.
She knelt down at my side and handed the mug to me.
I took it from her small white hands and she smiled.
Still smiling she stood and ran to the doorway. A doorway that had just appeared. As it opened I heard a piano.
She pointed out and the entrance started to turn so that I could see what she saw too.
There, against a starry sky, stood a unicorn and as I saw it she started to laugh.
She stroked the animal, circling it’s horn (which was made of white and gold painted porcelain twisted to a point), and sang Crazy Man Michael as I drank my coffee.
- Are you fuckin’ up yet, yer lazy get?
I recognised John’s New York scouse accent. He spoke, knocked and pushed the door at the same time. Just as you’d imagine him to do.
He was dressed in jeans and a Pearl Jam T-shirt.
There were no signs of The Beatles uniform or the hippiness.
This was a healthy, normal, Nineties grunge look.
- Welcome to Rock ‘n’ Roll Heaven young man. Now get up so that I can show you ’round. As one of your heroes, I’ve been assigned the job. I don’t like it but I s’pose somebody should do it. Stuart’s too busy watching Backbeat and, well, I suppose I owe you something really – the royalties and stuff that people like you have earned for Yoko and the boys. Now, come on – get up, get up – this is better than life anyway. I’ll introduce you to some of the others and then we can get stoned.
We left the room shortly after Lennon had made his introduction. I got dressed from the wardrobe in the room. It was full of all my favourite T-shirts. They were all brand new too.
There was even a Furniture Love Your Shoes one. I had been trying for years to get my hands on an identical one after seeing someone in the street wearing one.
And there it was.
It had to be worn.
So we left the room.
It was lovely out. The sun shone and, surprisingly for heaven, there were no clouds in the sky.
There were a few questions that I needed to ask.
- Where …
- We don’t have wings. Only pricks think that we are angels because we are in heaven.
- Heav …
- Well, not heaven exactly, this is Rock ‘n’ Roll Heaven.
- Rock ‘n’ …
- You see, heaven is where the good guys go. Hell is where the arseholes go.
- And this …
- This is where dead rock stars come. Everybody’s here.
I could hear some mean guitar playing.
I mean it was really great.
- Who’s that?
- We’ll meet them later. Sounds like they are only warming up anyway. I want you to meet Stu.
- I thought …
- Yeah, I know. He’s been watching that fuckin’ film since we got it up here. We crossed the road and walked into a cinema.
It was like they always used to be. You know, when everything was maroon and they only had two screens. There was nobody to collect money so we just walked straight into the auditorium.
It was empty except for someone sitting right at the front.
You could see his head silhouetted against the screen.
- Stu!
- Fuck off Johnny.
- Someone to meet you.
- Later.
- C’mon, it’s no use.
We went back out into the street and the sunshine.
- I love the guy but he can be such an arsehole at times. All that wanking over himself will kill his eyes.
- Lunch?
I agreed.
- You’re in for a real treat … you do like soul don’t you?
- Dover?
- No, music, Dickhead.
- Who are we talking then?
- All of ‘em.
- All of ‘em?
- Jackie, Sam, Marvin … do I need to go on?
We went into a place called The Boardwalk.
Later, walking down the road again …
- Hey stop!
I looked around.
- Hi, you must be Jamie. Yeah? Cool man. I’m Marc. Do you know me? You are beautiful. Must go, got a date with that new chick. John are you taking him tonight?
- Of course Marc.
- Tonight?
- Every night we all get together. You timed it right – we’re all hoping for a real treat. We’ve trying for ages to get this thing sorted out but it seems that they were secretly rehearsing and it’s going to happen later.
- Jazz?
- A bit.
- Like me. It reminds me too much of the Fifties in Liverpool. All the Beatniks at art school. They would love it here.
We went into a small cellar bar. There were about half a dozen tables set out. chequered table cloths and candles in bottles.
The place was really smoky and the smoke tasted of dope.
There were some guys playing on the small stage. We sat down at the back and John ordered a couple of Jack’s.
- I don’t know-
- Coltrane. This is his place. He always does the first set of the day. The Bird’ll be on later but I hate this crap today – drink up, we’re out of here.
As the sun started it’s descent we walked into this open air arena place.
There was a stage at one end – nothing flashy: more like a bandstand.
In front of it were a few tables but nobody was sitting at them.
At the opposite end was the bar. It was raised on a platform. The whole place reminded me of the Grand in Clapham. Just without walls and a ceiling.
There was a group of people sitting on the grass. There was nothing to do (there was no music yet) so they were doing nothing.
I recognised most of them but was still introduced to each of them in turn.
- So, we meet again – are you ready for this now?
Jimi offered me the spliff again.
- C’mon. You know you want to, it’s got your name on it.
I took it from him and sure enough, in big gold letters, it said Jamie Graham.
It was massive, about ten inches.
I must have been staring in amazement because they all started to laugh at me.
- You’ll get used to them soon enough – They told me – They soon become like part of the furniture. Bob and Pete have got a great little business going there.
- They’re never short of work.
I found my Zippo in my pocket and lit the bugger. It was bloody excellent.
After a couple more tokes on it I passed it on.
John was sitting next to me – Fuck off, you’re not on Earth now, we’ve all got our own.
And they all pulled them out of their pockets to prove it.
Somebody said it was time for some music.
- He was impressed by your playing earlier – John told them.
- We was only practising then – said the Irishman – How about Whiskey In The Jar Jimi?
And that’s what they did.
We were all hypnotised by those two wizards of the guitar. Even the ones who must have seen it all before.
- Kinda makes you sick don’t it?
I looked around.
- Hi, I’m Steve. I saw you in concert a few years ago. In Sheffield. I think you were just starting out then though.
- We were probably crap as well.
- You were OK. Listen, have you seen any of me band recently?
- Def Lep?
- Yeah.
- I saw Joe in Dublin a while ago.
- ‘Course, he’s still over there ain’t he.
That night I saw it all.
It might have been the dope though I guess.
Kurt was there, shooting up in the corner with Sid.
He was a really nice guy. He came over to say hello. We had met before at an awards thing a few months before he shot himself.
Joplin was jammin’ with Kristen Pfaff. John said they all thought she was trying to get off with her.
Mama Cass sang Lost Highway and I’m So lonesome I Could Cry with Hank.
Frank Zappa got together with Cole Porter and Tim Buckley for this really avant-garde, off-the-wall thing.
Shit, I could go on forever but nothing could beat the highlight of the night.
It was the thing that everybody had been waiting for.
It was just so beautiful, you wouldn’t believe it.
Imagine this – Sandy Denny and Ian Curtis doing a duet of Love Will Tear Us Apart.
Christ it was gorgeous.
Everyone was nearly in tears.
The next day I was woken up with a coffee.
Mel Appleby was sat on the edge of my bed. I smiled and thanked her but then everything went really weird.
First of all it all went black and then all that I could see was the nothingness you get when you close your eyes.
I could hear voices all around me.
Somebody shouted out – He’s back.
I recognised the voice that said – Thank God.
I opened my eyes to see her and she squeezed my hand. Tears fell down her cheeks and she leant over and whispered – I thought we had lost you.
I was in a hell of a lot of pain in the ambulance back to the hospital.
I woke up after the operation though feeling much better.
Rachel was still at my side.
Later she showed me all the newspapers.
The headlines read: Rock Star Dead For Four Minutes.
- I made the big time then?
- Don’t ever leave me again – she told me – You scared the shit out of me.
So they are my memories of Rock ‘n’ Roll Heaven.
One thing though … I never saw Elvis.
Nobody even mentioned him.
Wonderful Weekend
This weekend, my sister and I (and both our families) treated our Dad to a surprise weekend away to celebrate his 60th birthday. We wanted a location that suited all of us and settled on Kent as being a location situated an equal distance between us all. We chose to all meet up at Hever Castle – originally we were thinking of Leeds Castle but we wanted to save some money where we could and we couldn’t use our Tesco ClubCard vouchers there. None of us knew what to expect but the photos on the website looked good and there seemed enough to keep the kids entertained.
My goodness. What a place! It was so amazing – so much better than we could have wished for and we all had such a wonderfull day. For a start the weather was lovely but the grounds of the castle were so well maintained too. It did seem quite expensive to get in (or at least it would have done if we didn’t have the above mentioned vouchers!) but considering that you could spend the whole day there it was actually fairly reasonable. The small castle is actually more of a stately home inside but it does have a moat and drawbridge, towers and turrets. Hever Castle was the childhood home of Anne Boleyn and therefore full paintings of Henry VIII and his wives and other Tudor memorabilia. The displays are interesting and well layed out too.
It’s the grounds that were the best thing though. All kept immaculately, the flower beds were full of colour and weed free. There were many different areas of the gardens including a stunning Italian syled area, a rose garden and rhododendron walks. A huge – and I do mean huge – lake surrounded by trees was just incredible. There wer actually areas of the gardens we didn’t see but we would definitely go back again.
I always like to look round the gift shops at places like this. It’s nice for the kids to have a souvenir of a lovely day for a start. The shop at Hever was mostly full of Henry VIII themed gifts along with knights and princesses. None of it was that expensive – you’d certainly get more ripped off at other similar attractions. There were also some lovely gift ideas and souvenirs for older visitors too.
Considering the amount of money that must be paid out for the upkeep of the house and gardens, Hever Castle is not a rip off at all and, if you are looking for a day out in the South East of England, it is well worth a visit.
Now Kent isn’t really a county that I have visited a great deal. I pass through the northern area of it when visiting my relatives in Essex and my work is often for a client there, but I’ve not actually spent a great deal of time there. I was absolutely amazed at how lovely the area was. It was so green and so clean. So much of it is unspoilt but we consider the South East to be so built up. Some of the views were stunning across rolling fields and hills, beautiful, well kept gardens, village greens and Oast Houses – it really was somewhere I could imagine myself living.
It felt quite serendipitous to be visiting the area at the same time as my campaign to promote the works of H.E. Bates is getting going as many of his most famous works (including, of course, the Darling Buds of May stories popularised by the TV series starring David Jason and Catherine Zeta-Jones) were set there. It seems that so much of the area remains unchanged and I could see why an author who loved gardening and the countryside would choose to settle in the Garden of England.
And, finally, talking of serendipity … I’ve often thought that if we were to have a pet dog I would choose a Bassett Hound. It was this breed that I grew up with as a pet when I was a child. While we were away at the weekend we saw two different Bassetts. Being with my father and sister, we were able to recount stories of our pet to each other. Today I picked up our free ad paper and there’s two litters of Bassetts for sale. Am I ready for the commitment and expense that owning a dog brings? It would certainly keep next doors pesky cat out of the garden that’s for sure.
Are you sitting comfortably …
Chalfonts, Piles, Haemorrhoids … whatever you call them, if you’ve ever experienced them, you’ll know that they really are a pain in the arse. They’ve been the butt of all jokes for years and personally I think they’ve had a bit of a bum deal.
There, that’s the jokes out of the way and now onto the serious stuff because having just got over a case of Piles, I can categorically say that they were no laughing matter. There, I’ve said it: I’ve had Piles. I’m a little embarrassed to say it I admit but shouldn’t be really because somewhere between 40-50% of us will suffer with them at some point in our lives. Yes, that’s right, nearly every other person will get them. The chances are, if you don’t suffer with them yourself, someone very close to you will. In fact, because many people don’t go to the doctors with them, out of embarrassment, that figure could actually be higher.
So, what exactly are Piles? I have to say that while I suspected that I had them, I didn’t really know what they were and checked out the internet for information. According to the BBC Health pages,
“The tissue of the anus is rich in blood vessels. If these become dilated and swollen, they may project into the anal canal or out of the back passage (a prolapse) to form visible swellings. Some people describe them as varicose veins of the anus.”
The BBC site goes on to list symptoms:
- A swelling protruding from the anus. Piles may be felt as small soft lumps at the opening of the back passage, sometimes compared to a ‘bunch of grapes’. They’re usually soft and fleshy but may become hard if thrombosis occurs. The piles may only appear after straining on the toilet.
- Bleeding from the back passage. The mucosa that covers the piles is quite delicate and if it is damaged, for example as you open your bowels, there may be bleeding, which is usually seen as small amounts of bright red blood on the toilet paper or on the surface of the motions. Occasionally, piles cause severe bleeding.
- Mucus discharge.
- Itching. Piles can cause intense itching of the skin around the back passage.
I didn’t get a mirror out to look and neither did I visit the doctor for him to look either but all of the other symptoms seemed to tie in so that’s what I presume I had. At worst it became very painful to make a bowel movement and at times to even sit down for any great length of time. Some mornings I just couldn’t get comfortable at my desk at all – I hope nobody noticed how much I was squirming in my chair!
After a few days, I decided that action was needed and went to check out what I could get off the shelf in my local supermarket – thank God for self service tills! They’d sold out of Anusol – the town must’ve been having a run on Piles that week for some reason so I was forced into Germaloids. But ointment, cream or suppositories? Well, no way was I doing the latter – I’ve seen Trainspotting, I’m not going there. What’s the difference between an ointment and a cream? I chose the ointment – it just sounds like it might do the job better.
In fact after a week it seemed to be making things worse so I braved the shelves of Boots for an alternative. Here, there were several different brands in all the different variations. I went for an Anusol cream. The relief it brought was almost immediate and I am now cured. Hopefully for ever but at least if they do come back, I now know what works best for me.
They say that prevention is better than a cure. The cooling cream actually bought a pleasant sensation but a few lessons I’ve learnt from the experince will hopefully prevent the Piles from returning. There’s valuable lessons here for everyone, here’s what I’ve learnt:
- Piles can be caused by poor diet so eat better. This is where the 5-a-day thing helps.
- They can be caused by constipation drinking more water helps.
- If I feel constipated, don’t strain. Put your feet up – literally – and don’t rush.
