Apart from a couple of years in my late teens when I worked part time as an auxiliary nurse, there is no doubt on earth I would make the world’s worst nurse. Not only I am squeamish, my legs go wobbly at the sight of blood and guts, and a trip to the doctor is the last resort, I am simply not very good when it comes to medical matters full stop. So it was with some trepidation – after a month of toothache and backache – I plucked up the courage to visit my GP who said it was about time I had my free NHS Health Check for the over 40s which offers a series of routine tests to help identify risks of developing heart disease, stroke, kidney disease, type 2 diabetes and certain types of dementia. I left wishing I hadn’t, as aside from the usual “lose a few pounds, give up smoking, drink in moderation and get more exercise” advice, my blood pressure was through the roof and the doctor prescribed long walks, a trip to the e-cigarette shop and a week off work filled with rest and relaxation and without my friends Pinot and Grigio,
The much-feared Storm St Jude whistled through Eastbourne this week and all I have been left thinking is: 1987, now that’s what you call a storm my friends. Back then we had no real warning/correspondents/contingency plans. I walked to my job as a cub reporter from where I was living in Melbourne Road and it was like something out of The Blitz with trees down, roofs blown off, buses suspended and everyone mucking in for the big clear up. Reports of the damage dominated the paper for weeks. After spending the summer putting up fence panels at Chateau Field, I feel terribly sorry for those whose were blown down but as this week’s doom laden weather prediction failed to materialise, it’s been a case of storm, what storm?
Good luck to all the Little Treasures (my own included) treading the boards in A Christmas Carol or Bugsy Malone this weekend. Break a leg.