After all the general positivity in the wake of my steroid injections last week, I got a call from my GP's surgery this week saying I needed to come in for a repeat blood test.
The latter showed signs of an increase in Alanine Aminotransferase (ALT). This could be due to an infection, some of my medication, a host of reasons. So, my GP - who never passes up the opportunity for a blood test - wants to double-check it next month.
Rachel stressed that it could be something as simple as the vast quantity of prescription medication I am taking and told me not to catastrophise.
Of course, I did. Although, to be honest, not as much as I have done in the past. I think I'm just resigned to the fact that this is my future now.
To be honest, I might as well rely on healing crystals, reiki, or leeches, I (half) joked with Rachel.
Anyway, while I'm still waiting for the steroid injections to kick in and take the edge off my discomfort, I have another appointment with the phlebotomist to look forward to in a few weeks.
On a more positive note, ahead of the impending heat wave this week, Rachel, Alice and I made it to yesterday's Home Front event at Hever Castle, full of living history displays, period music and dancing, and 1940's re-enactors.
Bigger and better than the last time we attended the event, there were more tents, more people dressed up, generally more of everything. As usual Alice attracted a lot of interest with people wanting to know her breed and if it was okay for them (or their children) to pet her. She, of course, relished the attention.
The heat got to me a bit at first, but I downed a lot of water, took things slowly, stayed in the shade as much as I could, had some great ice cream, and we enjoyed a fantastic afternoon.
The dancers, as ever at such events, were phenomenal
Casual, pre-injection mode, reading this week's 2000AD
After weeks - nay, months - of bitching, moaning, and dieting the stars finally aligned and I was able to get my long sought-after steroid injections in my back.
These will hopefully numb the pain for a while, allowing me to exercise more with (all being well) proper corrective results to beat the crippling inconvenience of osteoarthritis in my lumbar facet joints.
We arrived at the hospital at the crack of dawn, with a short side quest to drop Alice off with Rachel's parents, getting to the Chronic Pain Clinic at around 7.30am, just ahead of several other people.
After a short wait we were all allowed in and ushered to our individual rooms, where a couple of nurses, then the consultant, came in to check blood pressure and blood sugar, do some consent paperwork, and make sure we understood the nature of the impending procedure.
I'm happy to report that my blood sugar levels were a fraction of what they had been in January, when my previous visit had had to be aborted because my body wasn't ready for the proposed injections.
Although the consultant wasn't the one I had seen before, he was just as friendly and patient, taking his time to go through the procedure, the recuperation period, how soon we might see results (seven to 10 days) etc
I was the second person to be taken in to the operating room during this early shift, with a hospital gown in place of my t-shirt I was asked to lay down on the table and place my head in the padded hole.
Then, after a powerful numbing spray was lathered over my back, a series of six - almost painless - injections were made; three on each side of my spine.
Only one actually hurt - making my stroke-afflicted left leg twitch quite violently. But I had been expecting this as the identical injections I had almost a decade ago caused the same reaction.
And that was it.
I was wheeled back to my room, where Rachel was waiting. We were offered tea, biscuits, and a newspaper (it's not a true medical experience without biscuits), then a very short time later we were allowed to leave.
Complimentary biscuits indicate that it's all over
Evidence of four of the six injections in my back
This is what we really came for: tea, biscuits, and a newspaper
I'll be honest, I'm not exactly sure but I reckon we were in and out in around 90 minutes, maybe two hours.
Another positive health moment came later in the week with yet another International Normalised Ratio (INR) test of my the thickness of my blood.
This was also a blessing for poor Rachel who was having to administer these nightly injections. She had said that since my recent diet it was harder to find fatty tissue on my tummy to easily stick the needles in (I took this to mean she now considers me "ripped" and gifted with a miraculous six-pack!).
But no more. At least for the moment, anyway.
However, I also had another blood test this week (testing lipids or something, I still can't recall) and that was a bit of a nightmare.
I hadn't slept more than a couple of hours the night before because I was so anxious, but the phlebotomist did a heroic job of - I believe, I had my eyes screwed shut - finding a willing vein, wiggling the needle about and drawing out the required blood.
I'd drunk over five pints of Barley Water that morning (as you're supposed to be well hydrated), which I think helped with the flow - although the nurse joked that my extracted blood was probably 50 per cent water!
All credit to her, there was very little bruising on my arm afterwards. I've had less painful blood tests that caused much more bruising.
My arm in the aftermath - the red marks were left when I removed the bandage later that morning
Kudos, also, to my long-suffering wife Rachel whose hand I nearly crushed in a combination of my trypanophobia (fear of needles) and inability to handle pain.You can see the indentations my fingers made in Rachel's hand in the picture below, which was taken an hour or so after we left the doctor's surgery.
Now I await the results of this test - and to see if the steroid injections have the desired effect.
Oh dear! I squeezed Rachel's hand rather hard while I was having my blood extracted
I never intended these "health updates" to be such a Debbie Downer. In fact, quite the opposite. The original aim of this "occasional" (certainly never weekly) series was to catalogue my efforts at reclaiming some degree of normalcy in my life. I certainly never expected this never-ending cascade of random niggles to keep beating me down!
I returned for my regular International Normalised Ratio
(INR) finger-prick blood test check-up this week - at the end of a run of daily blood thinner injections administered by my wonderful wife - only to discover that all that, and the latest tweaking of my medications, had only moved my score from 1.6 to 1.7.
The target range for my INR (a measure of the blood's thickness and capacity for clotting) is between two and three (which it had been for almost a year, until around the time I began my massive dietary overhaul to bring my blood sugars down).
However, a fluctuating INR could also prevent the injections - due next week - due to the danger of possible clotting.
I spoke to the Pain Clinic, where my injections are due to take place, and after consultations with the doctor, it was agreed that the injections could go ahead. However, an INR test - and probably a blood sugar test as well - will be conducted on the day before a final decision can be made.
Meanwhile, the duty doctor at my local surgery - where I have my INR blood tests - has given me a prescription for another week's worth of syringes for a further round of daily blood thinner injections.
So that means more minor adjustments to my medication and a return visit next week.
At the same time, I'm now having daily blood thinner injections (administered by Rachel, who's done this job for me before, many years ago) for the week, to see if they help matters.
I could have had these jabs last week, but I managed to talk my GP out of them as I persuaded her this was just a blip, it had happened before (I had receipts), and it would sort itself out.
I've hated needles ever since my extended stay in hospital a couple of decades ago (after the aneurysm and stroke), when I was having frequent blood tests and the doctors and nurses in various wards discovered I had tiny, elusive veins that weren't keen to give up their goodness.
This would lead to multiple attempts to stick me with needles and lots of yelping and tears (sometimes even from our hardworking and underpaid stars of the National Health Service).
So last week, my GP and I agreed a week's grace on the tummy jabs because I was cockily convinced my INR would normalise and everything would be okay.
It clearly isn't and this whole fandango is also getting dangerously close to my hospital appointment next month for the steroid injections into my spine (to ease my osteoarthritis pain).
However, I strongly suspect that if my blood isn't clotting right, those injections will have to be postponed... again!
And, while we were at the doctor's surgery getting my INR measured, it turns that I had to book myself in for TWO other blood tests (currently now scheduled for post my back injections) with the phlebotomist, for reasons I can't even remember at the moment.
On top of that an on-and-off pain in my side that I've had for over a year has become a permanent fixture this week and I've been experiencing some pretty unpleasant toilet issues.
So, I think you can see why I'm feeling a bit depressed at the moment.
Turns out this week I was below my target range! Although not by anywhere near as much as last week's had been over. Anyway, this necessitated another big change in my daily blood clotting medication, and a return appointment for next week.
But that wasn't my only medical examination this week. I also had my rescheduled eye exam - the one with eye drops and bright lights.
This more powerful procedure than my previous one a couple of weeks ago is called "slit lamp biomicroscopy surveillance". It allowed the medical expert conducting the test to look inside my eyeballs and give me an instant analysis of their condition. Rather than having to wait weeks, as with the earlier test.
Turns out my eyes are okay for a person of my advancing years. I believe there was a slight trace of cataract formation, but I was assured that was normal. And I know, with modern technology, if it does become an issue it can be easily treated.
I also have very small pupils, apparently, which I guess goes with my tiny, evasive, veins that phlebotomists, nurses, and doctors always have fun with when trying to draw blood.
So, that was good. The only drawback with that test was it took me the rest of the day, and a good night's sleep, for my eyes to recover from the eye drops and the extra-bright, invasive, lights that I had to stare, unblinking, into.
I rang the hospital, spoke to a lovely woman in the Pain Clinic, and told her my new blood sugar count.
She offered me the choice of going on a waiting list for the doctor I had seen previously or an early morning appointment at the start of next month with a different doctor.
What the phrase Pain Clinic always conjures up in my twisted mind
I really wanted to stay with the doctor I knew (fear of change and all that), but I also wanted to get this matter resolved ASAP.
So, quite heroically I thought, I opted for the Pain Clinic appointment in June.
Hopefully, these shots into my lumbar facet joints will ease the extreme pain in my back so I can do more vigorous exercises to help keep the discomfort at bay for the long-term.
The night before I'd woken at about 3am in a panic about not having a landline for the foreseeable future and used my phone to log into my mobile account (which I'd never actually looked at before)... and found I had "free minutes" every month.
Yes, I knew about these mythical things, but always thought there was a catch. There isn't. A minute is a minute.
That's put me at ease about both my appointment at the hospital and using my phone in lieu of the landline.
However, that state of contentment didn't last too long as I was getting texts from the NHS eye clinic about my test the other week - but I couldn't open them, either directly on my phone or through the NHS app.
Then I got a severe-sounding message that said I needed to go for a new test at a different hospital... and I overreacted. To put it mildly.
Fearing the worst (i.e. I was going blind), I catastrophised straight from calm to Def Con Freak Out.
I called Rachel and she managed to talk me back down, then went off to get in touch with the hospital I was being directed to.
[The extra embarrassing aspect of this was that I talking to Rachel via a video link and so her entire office could see - and hear - my rather lengthy emotional breakdown.]
It turns out the pictures of the interior of my eye that had been taken the other day weren't good enough and therefore I was being sent to a hospital unit with better equipment.
Rachel was also told that the "portal" the eye service used to communicate with patients wasn't the same as the general NHS one that I was used to using, and could be a bit "temperamental".
As Rachel calmly explained all this to me, I could feel my mental dials turning down to a normal level again.
I, honestly, don't know what I would do without my wonderful wife.
Annoyingly, my INR was up again (even higher than last week) which means the weekly check-ups will continue for a while.
And I'm concerned that, if it doesn't sink back down into my target range (through subtle changes in the amount of daily medication I take for it), that might also screw up my spinal injections!
I was specifically asked about INR when I rescheduled my jabs - and told I might need to be tested before the procedure could go ahead.
I love Newfies - I just wish they didn't drool quite so much! 🤣
A cold wind blew us to Hever Castle yesterday for the return of Castle Canines (formerly Paws At The Castle).
This was the first time the venue had hosted its dog show in over five years (apparently there's a new management team in charge of the site) and it was clearly much in demand as, it appeared, probably more than 50 percent of attendees had brought their own dogs along with them.
In fact, Rachel and I were quite taken aback (in a good way) by the sheer number of dogs wandering the grounds. Neither of us had ever seen so many pooches in one place... and yet Alice still managed to garner plenty of attention.
Our first stop was the 'meet and greet' with the giant Newfoundlands, who we would later see demonstrating their life-saving skills in the freezing cold lake.
Newfy water rescue demonstration
Then it was a general meander through the castle grounds, oohing and aahing at cuteness on display.
During our stay we spotted a former (human) participant in Channel Four's amazing series, The Dog House, as well as - no, honestly - an elderly duck that had appeared in the Disney live-action version of Beauty and The Beast. It was that kind of wonderful, very British, very random event.
The huskies were very chilled
The weather wasn't a friend to the poor people serving puppy ice creams and desserts
However, mid-afternoon, the heavens opened signalling a mass exodus from Castle Canines. We'd managed three hours though, with a lot of walking around and standing, and I'm pretty sure we'd seen everything we wanted to.
Hopefully next year the weather will be better for the dog show and it, once again, becomes a regular fixture of the castle's calendar of events.
It was also great to have simply gotten back to Hever Castle, having missed all of last year's events because of my stupid back problems.
No "tree safari" this weekend as Rachel was away for most of it, on a well-deserved spa break with some of her old university pals.
Then when she returned today she had to plunge headfirst into working on an important report for a client that she was given on Friday and needed to be done by this evening.
However, some good news on the fitness front for me. Remember I said a few weeks back that Biscuit Club had come to an end and I was looking for a replacement?
Well, I've finally managed to secure a place on a new - very similar - free, 12-week course being run by the borough council... at the same venue as previous Biscuit Club!
This kicks off at the end of the month.
Rachel and I do wonder though, as this is a local council-run course (presumably paid for out of our council tax), perhaps it won't end with free tea and biscuits! Will it even be a new Biscuit Club???
Having now established contact with the not-for-profit trust that runs these events on the council's behalf, I'm pretty sure I'm now finally set for a long-term exercise regime.
I learned that this new postural stabilityclass is run by the same lady that already runs the council's weekly exerciseclasses at the Angel Centre, in Tonbridge (for those of us with mobility or fitness issues).
So once I've finished the free, three-month, course I hope to be able to easily switch to one of the paid classes at the sports centre.
I got a certificate for completing my Postural Stability Course (aka Biscuit Club)
After nine months of weekly classes (barring Christmas and weeks when our trainer was unavailable), Biscuit Club is over.
It's rather sad, really.
While I am proud of my 100 per cent attendance record, I'm going to miss our weekly get-togethers, my two inspiring fellow participants, our primary coach Caroline, and her two volunteer assistants, Barbara and Sheila.
Those months of increasingly arduous exercise have seen me turning up, early on, in a wheelchair and then - over the weeks - regain the ability to walk "normally".
I'm also definitely more stable on my feet; it was my frequent falling over that sent me on this course in the first place.
The osteoarthritis diagnosis came later and, let's be honest, I couldn't have been in a better position to face that issue head-on.
Without this course, Rachel and I are adamant I'd still be in the wheelchair... with all the additional complications to everyday life that that would have brought with it.
For our final session this week, we had a truncated exercise class, then everyone gathered for tea, cake, and biscuits and a good old chinwag. Although I'm now on a diet (also part of this new fitness regime) I allowed myself a "cheat day" with a couple of chocolate biscuits and a small slice of lovely chocolate cake.
In the short time I've been on this "no snack" diet (what is it, six weeks? Seven weeks? I've stopped counting now), I've lost over a stone in weight and it was remarked upon in the class that my appearance has noticeably changed. I confess my t-shirts are feeling slightly baggier and my shorts aren't as tight these days, either.
I'm now in the process of trying to get myself enrolled on an exercise course that the borough council runs at the Angel Centre in Tonbridge, but my initial emails and phone messages were ignored (which was rather frustrating) and so now I've tried filling in an online form that will hopefully open the door for me.
There's also the possibility that the charity which ran Biscuit Club might have another course beginning soon or even that Caroline will have a window in her hectic schedule to start a new pilates class that I could sign up for.
In the meantime, I must remember to do regular exercises on my own and - now that our run of weekend events is over for the moment - get back to my weekly "tree safari" walks with Rachel and Alice.
Don't Want To Rush These Things: After 19 years, work shall begin on my castle
As we reach the end of January (which seems to have dragged on for about 30 weeks) I thought it was about time to lock in some aspirations for 2026.
HEALTH
Obviously after last year's health debacle (losing about seven months of the year because my legs stopped working properly and being in a great deal of discomfort), I want to get better this year.
More exercise and a healthier (urrgghhh!) diet are key. Hopefully, at the very least, I can bring my blood sugar levels down so I can get the steroid injections in my spine that will allow me the freedom to do more beneficial exercises.
READING
I've already stated that I want to get back into reading more this year (eyes willing), both novels and comic books, as both have slipped in the last seven or eight months.
I also have a massive backlog of comics to get through. Even though my pull-list continues to shrink, fresh issues keep arriving every month and I keep getting further and further behind.
My Read Judge Dredd Every Day is going... okay. I read either a story from volume one of the Complete Case Files or fresh material from current issues of the weekly 2000AD or the monthly Megazine pretty much every day. Pretty much.
CASTLE
For my 40th birthday (god, I can't believe it's been that long), Rachel's dad built me a tower that I could then decorate - along the line's of Rachel's dolls house hobby - and while I've collected a lot of "bits" to go inside it, two decades on and I still haven't started proper work on it.
I keep flip-flopping on the theme of the tower in my mind (sometimes it's a superhero HQ, sometimes it's a U.N.I.T. base from Doctor Who, and sometimes it's even a Dungeons & Dragons-inspired fantasy castle!). This year I really must get on with it.
I'D RATHER BE KILLING MONSTERS
The tabletop roleplaying Facebook group I started over six years ago, I'd Rather Be Killing Monsters, is ticking over nicely, with almost 460 members but I'd really like to kick it up a gear.
I want to make the group more interactive, get more conversations flowing.
At the moment it feels as though there's about a dozen of us doing all the heavy-lifting. I'd like to get more members of the group engaged and talking about their own games, the campaigns they're running or playing in, monster/treasure/trap ideas etc
And, of course, I'd always like to increase the membership.
PROJECT 60
This is the big one for me, my core focus for the geeky projects I want to have in place before I turn 60 at the end of this year. Yes, it includes everything I've set in stone above but the two major things I'm channelling my energies into are establishing a singular roleplaying campaign for me to run - that will have legs - and a (skirmish) wargame with painted miniatures and terrain that I can play solo or invite friends over to play.
The current top contender for a roleplaying game is the anime fantasy Twilight Sword.
When it comes to skirmish games, for a while I was spreading myself a bit thin by embracing several genres and settings, but I've finally decided that I need to concentrate on just the Western game Dead Man's Hand.
I'd hoped to get started on terrain building and painting last year, but my osteoarthritis put the kibosh on that. This year I will make up for that.
One of the latest additions to my portfolio of trees
Following the depressing turn of events the other week - in relation to my health - I promptly booked a number of appointments at my local GP's to tackle the problems head on.
The first of these involved a series of examinations and tests with a practice nurse, who managed to extract enough blood (at the second attempt) from my tiny, evasive veins, that could be sent off for blood sugar analysis (and, I guess, other things). Height and weight were also measured and my feet were checked to ensure they had a healthy pulse (they did).
My pasty arm bearing the bruises of a difficult blood withdrawal
Next week, I've my second appointment - with a different nurse - who will give me the results of the blood tests and talk me through the options for reducing my blood sugar.
I, in turn, can tell her about my new (currently going strong) "snack free" diet and increased exercise regime (on top of my regular Biscuit Club exercise class... which is, sadly, coming to an end in a few weeks).
After last weekend's jaunt to Ashdown Forest, this week Rachel took Alice and I somewhere a bit closer to home for our walk.
At Clare's suggestion, we drove to Tunbridge Wells and took a short ramble over the rain-soaked Common. This included my first return visit to Wellington Rocks for over two decades.
Not only were there many other dog walkers there (which excited Rachel and I more than it did Alice), but Alice also seemed to really enjoy scrambling up the sandstone rocks (with me, carefully, following her) and it was another opportunity for me to snap some pictures of interesting trees to add to my portfolio (my latest hobby).
We managed to squeeze in this visit during a break in the near-constant torrential rain of recently weeks, but the Wellington Rocks and Tunbridge Wells Common are definitely somewhere we'll come back to when the weather isn't quite so grim.
While I only managed about 20 minutes at Ashdown Forest, this week I almost clocked up half-an-hour.
It's baby steps, of course, because I haven't really walked outside like this for around seven months (thanks to the osteoarthritis in my back causing my legs to fail), but every great journey starts with a single step. Or something similarly motivational.
I certainly won't be joining The Cult of Parkrun anytime soon (or ever), but going for a walk with a purpose (e.g. photographing interesting tress and landscapes) is definitely motivating me to pursue this avenue for supplementary exercise.
Rock Climbing: Alice and I on Wellington Rocks, Tunbridge Wells
The injections were scheduled for yesterday. Rachel and I got to Maidstone Hospital, checked in to the Pain Clinic, were assigned a room of our own, did all the paperwork, answered all the questions, and waited for the pre-injection tests.
Unfortunately, it turned out my blood sugar was too high for the injections to go ahead. This was despite drinking litres of water and marching around the room. I managed to bring it down slightly, but the kindly doctor (the head of the department) said it just wasn't going down quickly enough.
The Pain Clinic can keep my place open for six months, but now I've got to work on diet and exercise.
It's all very depressing.
To pick myself up today I suggested to Rachel that we go for a walk on Ashdown Forest, which is a half-hour drive away.
This was my first proper, outdoor walk since my latest problems began, so I think I might have been a bit overambitious, expecting to stride across miles of the legendary forest at my first attempt.
Thankfully, Rachel correctly judged that around 20 minutes was a good start.
My fitness cheerleaders: Rachel and Alice
Honestly, just walking (and, by extension, running) for the sake of it is the most boring form of exercise I can imagine, so I've started a new hobby - photographing trees and landscapes.
I need purpose (beyond simply "you'll get fitter") for my walking, and this happens to overlap with my current interest in the works of JRR Tolkien.
This is something that cycles around every year or so, usually when I'm in the middle of my regular rewatch of the Extended Editions of The Lord of The Rings trilogy (I'm just about to press 'play' on The Return of The King this week).
Thus, once we got to the Hollies car park in Ashdown Forest, we wandered, I took pictures, Alice had a good sniff and scented some new smells, and Rachel got her steps in.
I've declared that we should be doing this more often (something Rachel has always said, but now it's me saying it and suddenly that makes it important!). Therefore, I can get more tree pictures and landscapes for my folder... and get fit as a side benefit.
The bigger struggle will be improving my diet (my dislike of fruit and vegetables could be a major issue there). But that's a topic for another post.
This was then followed by a trio of posts about her current "big project": a modern Malibu Beach House (pictured above). Over the holidays, with some help from her talented dad and no help from clumsy me, Rachel has painted the accent colour on the outside of the house, scratch-built a statement chandelier, and started on the flooring.
The latest mini-project involves assembling the shower unit (which included several hilarious superglue-related moments), but requires the purchase of some tiles to complete.
Now the holidays are over and Rachel is back to work I hope she can still make time to squeeze in more miniature work, as I know how satisfied it makes her feel.
With my back getting better, allowing me to resume the majority of the chores I used to do and Rachel not having to wait on me quite so much, that should free up some time for her in her manic schedule.
While Biscuit Club has been on a break for the holidays, my various back-related problems have continued to improve - thanks to continued exercise.
On New Year's Eve, I was both signed off by the NHS physio I had been seeing and (finally) got the call from the hospital to fix a date for my steroid injections.
These will be in a few weeks at The Pain Clinic, providing none of my other medical issues prevent this from going ahead. This was discussed during the call and hopefully will just be a few routine checks on the day.
Biscuit Club resumes soon, but we're in the home stretch now and only have a couple of months to go before we are all released into the wild.
The subject of "walking football" again came up as the "next step" along my road to recovery, this time while chatting with the physio, although Rachel let slip the possibility of getting me a personal trainer!
The main takeaway from all this - barring unforeseen backsliding - is that 2026 is looking like a more positive year, health-wise, for me.
Pertinent to the strip above, one of the early things I want to tackle, once my back is feeling better, is sorting out my overwhelming overflow of comic book back issues.
Jumbled piles of comics line the edges of the office and have filled every gap under the bed. I need to decide which to keep (this requires numerical filing by title on the shelves in the office) and which to either try and sell or consign to charity.
The comic panels at the top of this piece are from Bite Sized Archie. You can find the rest of the series here on the Archie Comics website. Two paperback collections are currently available (hopefully there will be more) that include behind-the-scenes extras.
Just getting in there on its final day, Rachel, Alice, and I ventured out to Tonbridge Christmas Fest at the castle (and, no, I'll never tire of living in a town with a 13th Century castle) this evening .
We'd originally planned to go at the weekend but rain stopped play, and we decided it would be sensible to go once the torrential downpours had passed us by.
This evening's jaunt also happened to be my first trip out into the wild using just my old walking stick - rather than other, larger, walking aids - since June.
So, how better to celebrate that milestone than by embracing the spirit of Christmas?
The fair was a lovely little mix of food stands, carnival games, and geegaw sellers.
Rachel was most keen that we be there at 4pm for the daily spray of artificial snow.
We may have made tactical use of elbows and legs to get to the centre of the mosh pit under the snow fall - but it was worth it (even if I had flashbacks to attending a foam party in a nightclub during my hedonistic university days).
As well as picking up a couple of bags of fudge (apparently it's the law that if you see a stand selling fudge you have to buy some), we also dined on foot-long sausages in baps from a food stand selling German sausages.
Rachel had a Bratwurst, while I had an absolutely delicious Krakauer (spicy sausage) that I coated in curry ketchup for that true Teutonic experience.
It's a month since Cowboys, Capes, and Claws sprang to life, bringing my current views on geekdom (be it RPGs, comics, movies, and so on) to this chill corner of the Internet.
Since "Life Day", we've had a reasonably steady flow of visitors to the site. Sometimes too many for my liking, but generally a decent number of genuine readers interested in the words, pictures and videos I've posted up.
It may sound counterintuitive, but my goal would be to keep the number of hits per day to around 500 at most. I'm looking for quality over quantity. I'd rather half-a-dozen people read my blog each day and left comments, than thousands of bots hit the site and did nothing good.
First month visitors - the pulse of the blog
In this first month 35 per cent of the hits came from the United States while only 11 per cent were from the UK, with the bulk of referrals coming via Facebook.
While I'm generally settled on the design of the site, I've still been tweaking the right-hand column, moving bits up and down to see which placing I find most aesthetically pleasing. I think we're getting close to a final form.
I'd like to applaud the founding members of my "posse", who kindly clicked on the blue Follow button (now near the top of the aforementioned right hand column of the blog), pledging their public support for my ramblings. Kudos to Jonathan, Erik, Justin, Percy, and Clare.
All new additions are welcome 😉
Heading into the New Year, my goal is to elevate the gaming coverage, while still maintaining a stream of reviews (films, TV, and comics) as well as general commentary.
When I started formulating this blog I never expected to write so much about my health again, but then the whole osteoarthritis issue was rather a bolt from the blue that - literally - took my legs from under me.
The idea for the blog was that I'd be writing about my progress with PROJECT 60 (that is, getting my Dead Man's Hand skirmish game up and running by the time I turn 60 next year, as well as the makings of a solid roleplaying campaign that would have long-term potential) interspersed with 20/20 VISION "events" where I'd tried something 'new' or stepped out of my comfort zone.
These last six months of heightened disability and constant pain have rather put the kibosh on that, but hopefully we're now coming out the other side and I can get back on track with those ambitions. And record them here on the blog.
The work on my Dead Man's Hand project will just have to be pushed back to 2026, when, all being well, I'll be able to work in our garden room on more scenery, assemble and paint up the buildings etc
As to roleplaying games, having been in a bit a funk because of my physical ailments, I'm now much more optimistic about the future and believe I've found a game that could be just right for my ideas. The trouble is, it isn't due to be published until the middle of next year.
Of course, we still have Pete's Outgunned Adventures to look forward to every month.
For numerous reasons, it's been a rough year for the Tuesday Knights.
Until this week, we haven't gathered for gaming purposes since about May, but given the improvement in my mobility and stability I was determined that we get in, at least, one game before the end of the year.
Sadly, Mark wasn't able to make it due to a prior commitment, but Clare, Pete, and Kevin showed up this week for the resumption of Pete's pulpy "weird science" campaign.
We finished that campaign's first "season" in February 2024, after three years and 32 sessions of gaming.
The idea of this week's gathering was to "generate" our characters and gain an overview of Pete's new system of choice: Outgunned Adventures from Two Little Mice.
Festive bao buns, courtesy of Rachel
But, first, we had a massive Christmas feast of pizza and festive nibbles to tuck into, prepared for us by Rachel, and a lot of catching-up to do. Sure, we chat in our WhatsApp group, but it's not the same as face-to-face banter.
Once we reached the stage where we couldn't eat any more, the table was cleared and the gaming began.
Following the get-together Pete and I had the other day about transferring the group's characters from Hollow Earth Expedition to Outgunned, Pete handed out character sheets to us all and talked us through character creation.
I liked this because, at the end of the process, the characters felt like our own creations rather than just "pregens".
The game's simple dice mechanic was explained and then we were thrown into Frozen Legacy, the first episode of the Saturday morning serial (ie. campaign) called The Fate of Atlantis.
It's still the pre-war 1930's and our characters - explorer Buck Hannigan (me), photojournalist Freya Larson (Clare), and former G-man, Richard Tate (Kevin) - are now freelance adventurers.
We've been hired by Professor Casper Wieloch to find the lost tomb of Erik The Red in Greenland, and retrieve a mysterious (and unknown) artifact. To aid us, the professor loaned our group Odin's Key, an iron medallion engraved with runes and with a translucent crystal lens at its centre.
Prof Casper Wieloch (left) and sketch of Odin's Key (right)
We soon found ourselves scaling a massive ice wall in Greenland. Buck put his mountaineering experience to good use, keeping his friends safe on the tricky ascent as the wind howled and the sea crashed violently below.
At the top of the climb we found a plateau with a single, ancient, Christian memorial with the words "sicut vixi ego relinquo" carved up on it.
Freya translated this ("as I lived, so I depart"), but raised concerns as to why someone who had rejected Christianity (ie. Erik The Red) would have a Christian memorial.
Patterned floor tiles
Spotting a groove in the side of the stone, Buck blundered on, inserting Odin's Key (while still clenching it firmly). This - unfortunately - set off the first booby trap. The ground opened up beneath us and we were all propelled down a rough slide into the freezing ocean water.
Luckily, we spotted a nearby cave and swam into it for safety. Inside we found a passageway leading deeper into the rock, which led us into a big cavern containing some Viking skeletons.
As we progressed, it became clear that the room was man-made, with Freya identifying the Viking architecture and the large statue of Odin, holding a golden spear, at the far end.
Between us and the statue, which wore an eyepatch featuring the same designs as our medallion, was a floor of finished stone, featuring tiles of different colours.
It was clear this was some kind of puzzle trap, but when Freya looked across the floor through the lens of Odin's Key she saw "safe" routes illuminated - unfortunately a different route depending on which eye she used to peer through the Key.
With Dick and Freya staying back to guide him, Buck began to cross the floor - following their instructions.
Unfortunately, he picked the wrong path to start with, causing the statue to lower its spear at him and a tidal wave of sea water to surge through the cavern, accompanied by a strong rush of wind.
Second time lucky (now in near pitch darkness), Buck reached the statue and found a partially opened panel behind it, which he and Dick managed to force open.
They passed through a narrow corridor into a blinding light, emanating from an enormous ice cavern where a Viking longboat was suspended from the ceiling, wedged between two pillars of ice.
Since we last spoke, my health has been improving in leaps and bounds (without any leaping or bounding, I should stress).
I'm much more mobile than I have been for months, am able to take showers again, generally move freely around the house and have put away (at least for the moment) my various mobility aids.
Rachel even felt confident enough to leave me to my own devices one night when she had to go away for business, trusting me to take care of Alice and not have any falls. Everything was fine.
All this progress can be primarily attributed to my regular Biscuit Club exercise class. Last week was our third assessment (we had one when we joined and another 12 weeks later) to quantify our progress.
I'm delighted to report that all my test scores had improved against both of those earlier examinations (remember that between my first and second I'd suffered the manifestation of osteoarthritis that set me back dramatically).
Our final assessment will be at the end of the course, which I think we worked out was in March.
Both Rachel and my instructor, Caroline, are keen that I continue with programmed exercise after this. Walking football was suggested, but I fear that might be a bit too competitive (and social; there are only three of us in Biscuit Club and that's about right for me).
Still waiting for a date for the steroid injections into my spine, which I'm putting a lot of faith in being the final part of the recovery jigsaw. I'm hoping these will (at least temporarily) eliminate the constant pain in my back and allow me the flexibility and range to push my exercising further and keep the osteoarthritis under control.
While I still can't walk " properly" (which, for the last 20 years has been with a walking stick), I'm now pottering around the house much more easily - without the use of my more elaborate, newer, walking aids.
I can. for instance, get down the stairs pretty much how I used to, although getting up the stairs is still a struggle. But there's no more spider-crawls or scooching up and down on my fat arse, so that's a massive improvement.
I've even resumed having showers, after a break of around four months because of my dangerous instability in the bathroom. This is a major breakthrough in my return to "normality".
Now, I just have to venture out the house without my "wheels", to test my endurance and balance in the wild.
There has been a major uptick in my progress over the last two or three weeks. Clearly Biscuit Club (my weekly strength, posture and stability class, which always ends with a drink and some biscuits) is paying off. I'd still be a slithering Jabba The Hutt without it, I'm sure.
Don't get me wrong, the pain in my back remains and, occasionally, in my legs, but on the whole I'm getting better at managing it.
I also had a surprisingly positive appointment with my GP about my blood pressure, and she has adjusted my medication accordingly. Rachel and I now have to keep an eye on my blood pressure to see if this change helps bring it down into the "safe zone".
I had my second meeting with the NHS physio this week, for a catch-up. He seemed very pleased with my progress and suggested a number of new exercises (quite a few of which, as I told him, I was already doing, courtesy of Biscuit Club) to build upon what I've achieved to date.
Overall, everything seems to be wobbling in the right direction, which is a nice fillip as the days are getting shorter. Christmas is coming and it'll soon to be time to get out and about to peruse the seasonal lighting displays up and down our road.
My pop culture Odyssey: a slice of super-powered geek life with heavy emphasis on pulp adventure, superheroes, comic books, westerns, horror, sci-fi, giant monsters, zombies etc
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