My MS was reviewed a couple of years ago by Pofessor George Ebers at Oxford - I appear to have an atypical form of MS, not usually found in people with a European origin - it is a form of Optico-spinal MS, and I am apparently some sort of transitional case between modern European MS and an ancient precursor from times when Europe was being re-occupied by people from Anatolia through north eastern Europe and then Finland after the Ice Age! (Finno-Ugric peoples like the Samis or Lapps, Samoyeds etc living as nomads in certain parts of north eastern Europe and Scandinavia today.)
This is of some interest to researchers, like Professor Alistair Compston at Cambridge, investigating the origins of MS and how the relatively common form of the disease developed in people of north European stock in the world today. The good side of this is that my MS has not progressed and I am relatively little disabled, still walking with a stick and having had no relapses for about 20 years - I have had MS now for 40 years and the worst symptoms were in the first 15 years when I had several episodes of optic neuritis and difficulties with legs and bladder.
Wednesday, August 17, 2005
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Saturday, August 06, 2005
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Monday, July 04, 2005
I stropped off in a strop....
For Liz
“I stropped off in a strop – with the dogs.”
Truffle allowed these words to reverberate around his domed shaped cranium before averting his eyes and responding “All men are bastards” which he thought might be expected by Becky Creighton –Smith. She had pierced him through the heart with a laser-like stare and threatening smile.
Truffle had lived for over half a century and he was just beginning to understand women – or at least some of them. He was also trying hard to be a bastard himself, and thought that he might eventually succeed if he kept practicing – but had failed again.
By saying “All men our bastards” and colluding with Becky with the electric blue eyes he had yet again failed to be a bastard himself. Carl Jung had said something to the effect that nice people were people with nasty ideas – and Truffle thought that the opposite was also true – that bastards were men with nice ideas – and he wanted to be one very badly – to be like his friend Scrapps who referred to people who were not bastards as “motley fuckers”
Truffle did not want to be a motley fucker but he knew that the paranoid potter Scrapps had labelled him thus. What would Scrapps have said to Becky if this had happened in the pottery class? Truffle could not think, but it didn’t matter because at this point he felt a warm wet sensation on his left calf – and realised that one of Becky’s dogs must have peed on him – what now – to ignore it like a nice person with increasingly nasty ideas or mention it. Mention – hardly the right response – to complain – too wimpish – no he had to be a bastard!
Truffle tried to look at the stunning Becky, and said under his breath “Your dog has peed on my leg.” Becky pricked her ears, and growled “What did you say, you spineless jelly-bag – Truffle look at me - what did you say just now – speak up you silly little man!”
“Your dog – your dogs are very nice – all sugar and spice”
Becky curled her lip, and Truffle knew even more surely that, like most men, he was not a bastard but a motley fucker.
“Normal bollocks” barked Becky, and bared her canines menacingly.
Sandy
“I stropped off in a strop – with the dogs.”
Truffle allowed these words to reverberate around his domed shaped cranium before averting his eyes and responding “All men are bastards” which he thought might be expected by Becky Creighton –Smith. She had pierced him through the heart with a laser-like stare and threatening smile.
Truffle had lived for over half a century and he was just beginning to understand women – or at least some of them. He was also trying hard to be a bastard himself, and thought that he might eventually succeed if he kept practicing – but had failed again.
By saying “All men our bastards” and colluding with Becky with the electric blue eyes he had yet again failed to be a bastard himself. Carl Jung had said something to the effect that nice people were people with nasty ideas – and Truffle thought that the opposite was also true – that bastards were men with nice ideas – and he wanted to be one very badly – to be like his friend Scrapps who referred to people who were not bastards as “motley fuckers”
Truffle did not want to be a motley fucker but he knew that the paranoid potter Scrapps had labelled him thus. What would Scrapps have said to Becky if this had happened in the pottery class? Truffle could not think, but it didn’t matter because at this point he felt a warm wet sensation on his left calf – and realised that one of Becky’s dogs must have peed on him – what now – to ignore it like a nice person with increasingly nasty ideas or mention it. Mention – hardly the right response – to complain – too wimpish – no he had to be a bastard!
Truffle tried to look at the stunning Becky, and said under his breath “Your dog has peed on my leg.” Becky pricked her ears, and growled “What did you say, you spineless jelly-bag – Truffle look at me - what did you say just now – speak up you silly little man!”
“Your dog – your dogs are very nice – all sugar and spice”
Becky curled her lip, and Truffle knew even more surely that, like most men, he was not a bastard but a motley fucker.
“Normal bollocks” barked Becky, and bared her canines menacingly.
Sandy
Monday, June 06, 2005
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Friday, May 13, 2005
Saturday, March 12, 2005
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Paso Finos UK | Fino Breeding | Paso Finos for sale
Paso Finos UK | Fino Breeding | Paso Finos for sale
Great meeting with Tracy and Wendy today - thinking about getting involved with these fine horses....
Great meeting with Tracy and Wendy today - thinking about getting involved with these fine horses....
Sunday, February 27, 2005
Boreas
This North wind has very nuch overstayed his welcome! Flurries of snow now and again but nothing settling - frosty nights. Penny is back from her weekend of Embroidery with exciting ideas. Tomorrow it is Isobel's birthday and Jane has arranged for a few of us to have lunch with Isobel using Times tokens.... Should be fun. Then its lunch out with Tracy on Tuesday - it will be good to hear all her news. Have fiished Terry Pratchett's "The Wee Free Men" that Jane leant me - a great book, highly reccomended - I now realise I have a love of "Calkins"
Thursday, February 17, 2005
February Filldyke - not!
Slightly less cold today and I enjoyed my morning fast walk by the river. However they say the weather is going to get colder at the weekend and we are in for an icy visit from Boreas himself! But still very dry, the water low and no prospect of anything but dry weather here, apart from a bit of snow on Sunday - February is not living up to the "Filldyke name"
Penny is overseeing some major work in the garden at the moment – this involves more steps, retaining walls and renewing paving and old damaged bricks – they have been here well over a month now but the end is in site. She is also getting involved in a new textile Art project – you can read all about this on her Blog - http://pennyburnfield.blogspot.com
I recently went down to the Golden Buddha Centre at Zeal Cottage, Dartmoor - we have now adapted the garage to two self contained rooms with their own shower and loo pods, and their own entrances – very nice little Buddhist cells (Zeals) suitable for the Dalai Lama when he comes to stay. We do a regular meditation sessions, retreats etc – see http://www.goldenbuddha.org
Have updated my Aleksan website recently – this mainly deals with my CV, work, some of my MS stuff and othewr writings – see http://www.aleksan.doctors.org.uk/
Penny is overseeing some major work in the garden at the moment – this involves more steps, retaining walls and renewing paving and old damaged bricks – they have been here well over a month now but the end is in site. She is also getting involved in a new textile Art project – you can read all about this on her Blog - http://pennyburnfield.blogspot.com
I recently went down to the Golden Buddha Centre at Zeal Cottage, Dartmoor - we have now adapted the garage to two self contained rooms with their own shower and loo pods, and their own entrances – very nice little Buddhist cells (Zeals) suitable for the Dalai Lama when he comes to stay. We do a regular meditation sessions, retreats etc – see http://www.goldenbuddha.org
Have updated my Aleksan website recently – this mainly deals with my CV, work, some of my MS stuff and othewr writings – see http://www.aleksan.doctors.org.uk/
Monday, February 07, 2005
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Thursday, January 06, 2005
A Story for the New Year
Hot Chocolate Sauce – A story for Della
It was a solemn affair and the family were dressed formally, and wore long faces. Matilda looked at Cornelius out of the corner of her eye – and saw him looking at their son Frederick who was, she noted with disgust, licking his lips. Drusilla came into the room and glowered at her brother – Frederick ignored her and scowled at his plate. The joint he thought was over cooked – almost charred. But he liked the hot chocolate sauce that covered most of it. There were no vegetables – he laughed. Drusilla giggled. But no one drooled – the saliva did not flow freely.
Her Dad had always been strange, Matilda thought to herself, but she had never realised quite how strange. Yes, he was – or had been for most of his oddly eventful life – an eminent psychiatrist. She shuddered – how embarrassing it all was. The book about pigs had a good chapter on slaughtering and how to joint the beast; but it was very old, and she had found it difficult to follow. What had made Dad think of such an idea? He had been under the weather with a bad cold that is all, and she did not see the connection.
Cornelius looked at her just then and raised his eyebrows quizzically. Matilda nodded. All at the same time they raised their knives and forks – and fiddled with their food. Frederick suddenly ate a big mouthful and made a face at Drusilla – who screamed and ran out. The doorbell rang and everyone froze. No one usually rang at 3 am on a Monday morning. It kept ringing. Cornelius slowly opened the door. A policeman and a woman PC stood at the door. “We are making enquiries about Dr Hiram Zee Binswanger – he has been missing for a week now – we understand some relatives may live here?” Drusilla screamed again, and started to cry rather loudly. Frederick laughed demonically – and said, in a strange high pitched voice “We are eating Granddad now – with hot chocolate sauce – it is what he wanted – he is very tasty though a bit tough – but the chocolate sauce is scrumptious”
The meal at an end, the six of them felt bloated but happy. The Chilean Merlot had gone down very well. Nothing was left – and they had certainly honoured the last Will and Testament of that unusual and philanthropic personage – Granddad - alias Dr Hiram Zee Binswanger MD and Master of Lunacy, University of Transylvania.
Sandy Burnfield
New Years Day 2005
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