St George’s-in-the-Fields Parish Church

I'm often stunned by some of the architectural beauty in Glasgow, which can often be found in the most unexpected of places. The St George’s-in-the-Fields Parish Church is all the more stunning for its incongruous setting. If this building was located in Edinburgh's old town I'm quite sure I would have barely noticed it, but being in such close proximity to some rather plain, if not ugly, tower blocks, makes it all the more striking. A brief history:

The original Church of St George’s-In-The-Fields opened in 1824. However early on the morning of Sunday 23rd November, 1884, it was destroyed by fire.

Work began on rebuilding the church in April 1885 and in May the same year the memorial stone of the building was laid. The new church was designed by architect brothers, Hugh and David Barclay, in the style of a Greek temple. The portico features a scene of ‘Christ Feeding the Multitude’, sculpted by William Birnie Rhind.

The new church was opened on Sunday 7th February 1886, entirely free of debt. The rebuild had been funded by church member donations and had taken only 10 months to complete.

Source: https://www.qcha.org.uk/about/about_the_area/places_of_interest

How I lost a stone in 6 weeks

It's really very simple: eat less and do more.

Personally I find it very difficult to motivate myself to go to gym classes, especially after a day in the office. So I decided that what I need is a routine that I can do every day, which isn't too strenuous but which will burn off a decent amount of calories. Ultimately I decided that I would walk home from work, a distance of approximately 4 miles.

Previously I caught the bus home, which from my desk to the front door takes about fifty minutes - walking to the bus stop, waiting for the bus, sitting on the bus as it trundles along, and then walking home from the bus stop at which I alight - whereas I can walk it in about an hour and twenty minutes.

Using walkit.com, a very useful website, I was able to determine roughly how many calories I would burn per journey (386), and how many steps I would take (9,300). In addition to the walking I do some bench presses, sit-ups and curls in order to develop a bit of muscle which helps increase one's metabolic rate (i.e. how fast your body burns calories).

Finally, I eat less calories during the day - I try to consume less than a total of 500 calories prior to my evening meal. I reason that with the half-mile walk I do in the morning, in addition to the walk home and weights/sit-ups, I am essentially expending all the calories that I have consumed during the day. Which allows me to eat a decent evening meal and even enjoy a couple of squares of dark chocolate!

In essence I am following the golden rule: doing more and eating less.

At the end of June I weighed 15 stone 12.5 lbs. Today I used a sophisticated set of scales in Boots that measures one's height, weight, body fat and even calculates Body Mass Index (BMI). I intend to update this page as a record of my progression:


HISTORICAL:
(some of these are less detailed, providing just my weight)

09/03/04
Weight: 12st 1lb (77kg)

??/04/04
Weight: 12st 2lb (77.2kg)

13/08/04
Weight: 11st 9lb (74.2kg)

04/08/11
Weight: 16st 1lb (102.1kg)
Height: 5'11.6" (presumably took my shoes off?!)
BMI: 30.8
Body Fat: 31.3%


RECENT:
(since I began this blog)

09/08/15
Weight: 14st 12lb (94.8kg)
Height: 6' 0.7" (1.85 m)
BMI: 27.7 (still overweight!)
Body Fat: 26.4% (still a flabby bastard!)

16/08/15
Weight: 14st 9lb (93.1kg)
Height: 6' 1.2" (1.86 m)
BMI: 26.9 (still overweight!)
Body Fat: 25.2% (still flabby!)

30/08/2015
Weight: 14st 11lb (93.9kg)
Height: 6' 1.2" (1.86m)
BMI: 27.1 (still overweight!)
Body Fat: 25.0% (an improvement!)

06/09/2015
Weight: 14st 8lb (92.6kg)
Height: 6' 0.7" (1.85m)
BMI: 27.1
Body Fat: - machine failed to provide reading!

10/09/2015
Weight: 14st 9lb (93.2kg)
Height: 6' 1.2" (1.86m)
BMI: 26.9
Body Fat: 24.2% (less than average!)

31/10/2015
Weight: 14st 6lb (91.9kg)
Height: 6' 1.2"
BMI: 26.6
Body Fat: 22.4%

26/11/2015
Weight: 14st 0lb (89.3kg)
Height: 6' 1.2"
BMI: 25.8
Body Fat: 24,.4%

28/12/2015
Weight: 13st 13lb (88.7kg)
Height: 6' 0.7"
BMI: 25.9
Body Fat: 23.7%

On the buses...in Glasgow's East End

My usual mode of transport tends to be the bus, and due to the less-than-salubrious area in which I reside, I've witnessed many interesting incidents over the years - some outrageous, some violent, others comical. On one particular journey I recall some young neds at the back of the bus were brazenly skinning up a large spliff. It was mid-afternoon and the bus was mostly occupied by old ladies coming back from The Forge shopping centre. One of the young lads from the party at the rear walked down the aisle and politely requested that his fellow passengers open the windows, and even jovially assisted those whose lack of strength and/or dexterity made the task difficult for them, whilst casually explaining that he and his friends were about to "spark up a joint". His amiable demeanour and apparent concern for the elderly passengers appeared to endear him to most of them and, whilst some did appear shocked by his nonchalant explanation, generally they were cooperative and reciprocated his warmth. Despite his best efforts however, the smoke and distinctive herbal aroma quickly filled the bus like an incense candle, perhaps that's why I couldn't help but smile as I alighted the vehicle.

Sitting on the top deck of a bus as it meandered through Glasgow's East End, I overheard a woman say the following sentence on her mobile phone:

Aye, if he chews ma baws again, I swear I'm gonnae kick his c**t in!

The fact he (metaphorically) chewed her balls and she was going to kick his c**t in caused me a great deal of amusement.

On another occasion I was travelling into work later than usual, around eleven in the morning, and sat a few seats away from two, obviously intoxicated, women. One was swigging an alcoholic beverage from a can, whilst her companion complained she needed the toilet. As the bus continued along the route, these complaints became louder and more desperate, however her friend, apparently enjoying her drink, simply placated her with the reassurance that they had nearly reached their destination and relief was imminent. Suddenly one of them shrieked and they began to argue..."F**k's sake! Look whit ya've made me do!" One of them pressed the bell and they both stood up in preparation to alight from the bus, but continued their dispute. "Sssshhh yaself...ya're makin' a f**kin' scene, ya bam!"

It suddenly became clear what had happened. The poor woman who'd been complaining had pissed herself and her friend, presumably trying to spare her public humiliation, was trying to negotiate a discreet exit from the vehicle. Unfortunately she herself had no such concerns as she turned to address the whole bus. With her leggings conspicuously soaked in urine, she angrily shouted "What the f**k are youse all lookin' at?!" Then whilst stabbing her chest violently with her forefinger, and with a face contorted with rage, she screamed "Ah've got cirrhosis of the liver, by the way! So f**k youse all!" In fairness that was a reasonable mitigating factor.

There but for the grace of God go I...

Scottish Referendum Photographs

It is said that a picture paints a thousand words. Here are a few that I took whilst out and about in Glasgow during the referendum campaign:

Dylan Thomas and The Old Oak Tree

I recently wrote a poem following a walk in Tollcross Park, Glasgow. It doesn't require any interpretation and is rather unsophisticated, but nevertheless it encapsulates my mood that day.

The Old Oak Tree

Sitting under the old oak tree
Lilting branches shelter me
From the scorching midday sun
A gentle, cooling breeze
An occasional fleeting hum
The sound of roaming bees
Radiant flowers, birds and trees
So much beauty, I can hardly breathe
Wispy clouds dot the sky
I close my eyes and sigh
For the first time in a long time
I'd experienced real serenity
Sitting under the old oak tree

Over the last few years I've become rather fond of poetry, and adore Kipling's If, with which most people are familiar, and Dylan Thomas's Clown in the Moon.


Clown in the Moon

My tears are like the quiet drift
Of petals from some magic rose;
And all my grief flows from the rift
Of unremembered skies and snows.

I think, that if I touched the earth,
It would crumble;
It is so sad and beautiful,
So tremulously like a dream.

Unbelievably, he was just fourteen when he penned that!

I recall one morning a taxi driver in Swansea telling me that his father, also a taxi driver, frequently found Dylan Thomas asleep in one of the cabs which were, apparently, parked next to the Uplands Tavern, where Dylan drank. "They used to kick him out...shit in his pants and everything", I recall him saying.

“I hold a beast, an angel, and a madman in me, and my enquiry is as to their working, and my problem is their subjugation and victory, down throw and upheaval, and my effort is their self-expression.” - Dylan Thomas

Behind our masks

Travelling to work on the bus I usually read the free Metro newspaper, and observe my fellow passengers, as well as pedestrians the vehicle passes on its journey to the centre of Glasgow. What has occurred to me is not particularly novel, in fact I imagine most people have thought about it at some time or another - what we see of others is merely their facade. Take me for example, if you were to see me out and about I'd wager you'd never suspect I suffer from mental health issues or neurosis. On the contrary, I have been described as self-assured and even arrogant before! I suppose we all do our best to hide our vulnerabilities from others.

I've often thought that Shakespeare's quote about all the world being a stage is true, and have often observed people conforming to stereotypes, and adopting the mannerisms and behaviour that they perceive to be suitable for the character they have assumed. Sociologists even have a theory by which to describe this phenomena, Role Theory:

Role theory is a perspective in sociology and in social psychology that considers most of everyday activity to be the acting out of socially defined categories (e.g., mother, manager, teacher). Each social role is a set of rights, duties, expectations, norms and behaviours that a person has to face and fulfill. The model is based on the observation that people behave in a predictable way, and that an individual’s behavior is context specific, based on social position and other factors. The theatre is a metaphor often used to describe role theory.

(...)

Substantial debate exists in the field over the meaning of the "role" in role theory. A role can be defined as a social position, behavior associated with a social position, or a typical behavior. Some theorists have put forward the idea that roles are essentially expectations about how an individual ought to behave in a given situation, while others consider it means how individuals actually behave in a given social position. Others have suggested that a role is a characteristic behavior or expected behavior, a part to be played, or a script for social conduct.

Source: Wikipedia

I can vividly recall my great-grandmother worrying that I didn't have a scarf once when I was a young boy, probably about eight or nine years old. I told her that my mum didn't mind, and she replied by telling me that she was a grandmother and was supposed to worry about such things. This was the first time that it occurred to me that people are essentially actors.

Since then this notion has been confirmed on numerous occasions, and it's sometimes quite amusing to shock people by acting in a way that doesn't conform to my perceived role. When I was drinking heavily I'd often buy a half bottle of whisky on my way home from work, and would usually drink most of it on the bus. I noticed that I elicited the most shocked looks when I was looking my smartest! Conversely when I've drunk in public dressed like a ned* - stubble, baseball cap, football shirt, tracksuit bottoms and trainers - nobody seems to notice. It's not the act itself that shocks people, but the incongruity of seeing a smartly dressed office worker behaving like a ned.

Dressed as a ned I have also been followed around shops and supermarkets by overzealous security guards, convinced I was going to steal something. On one such occasion the guard's presence was particularly suffocating, and he quite literally followed me up and down each aisle. Finally I said to him, in my best telephone voice, "Excuse me, Sir! I'm hosting a dinner tonight and wondered what sort of wine would best compliment mushroom canapes?" I can still recall his stunned expression!



*Wikipedia's definition of the term - Ned is a derogatory term applied in Scotland to hooligans, louts or petty criminals, latterly with the stereotypical implication that they wear casual sports clothes. Such usage in Glasgow dates back to the 1960s or earlier.

Living with OCD - Part 3

The OCD-UK website is a great resource with a lot of useful material. The following passage summarises the nature of this debilitating condition:

OCD presents itself in many guises, and certainly goes far beyond the common perception that OCD is merely hand washing or checking light switches. In general, OCD sufferers experience obsessions which take the form of persistent and uncontrollable thoughts, images, impulses, worries, fears or doubts. They are often intrusive, unwanted, disturbing, significantly interfere with the ability to function on a day-to-day basis as they are incredibly difficult to ignore. People with OCD often realise that their obsessional thoughts are irrational, but they believe the only way to relieve the anxiety caused by them is to perform compulsive behaviours, often to prevent perceived harm happening to themselves or, more often than not, to a loved one.

In a previous post I referred to the fact that I suffered a severe episode in January, 2014. I suppose technically it wasn't a nervous breakdown as I managed to function, albeit with the aid of a daily 15 mg dose of diazepam, but it was a period that I can best describe as like a nightmare from which I couldn't wake up, I had extremely distressing thoughts about harming others which were relentless; I would literally wake up and the thoughts would begin, they'd be present throughout the day and some nights they even haunted me in my dreams.

I lost nearly a stone in weight in just a few weeks as I simply no longer found food appealing, which is highly unusual for me! I was tearful and filled with foreboding, convinced some dreadful incident was imminent. Whereas previous episodes of this nature lasted just a few days, this lasted months.

I have to confess that I genuinely contemplated suicide, but was too cowardly to go through with it. What if suicide really was a terrible sin, and hell is real? What if I made a mess of it, for example by hanging myself only to be cut down and live the rest of my life as a quadriplegic? What about the misery I'd cause those I'd leave behind?

I therefore proposed various solutions which would leave me unable to act on these terrible thoughts, should I be unable to control them; I genuinely contemplated robbing a bank and getting jailed, amputating my arms, and blinding myself. I think those examples illustrate that I was really not a very well person at that time.

I was extremely lucky to have people who cared about me and supported me during this turbulent period. Not everybody's that lucky, sadly.

(to be continued...)

Living with OCD - Part 2

In my previous post, Living with OCD, I defined in my own words what OCD is and how I used alcohol to inhibit the anxiety that the condition causes me. I would not recommend habitually using alcohol as a remedy, and ended my blog post with an account of how my drinking had spiralled out of control to such an extent that my doctor confirmed that I had raised liver enzymes, meaning I had damaged my liver! Nevertheless I continued drinking for another year, believing (correctly as it happens) that the liver's quite a durable organ that can regenerate itself, though I knew deep down that I needed to stop, and besides being dependent upon alcohol is a miserable existence.

My routine used to consist of waking up feeling tired and struggling to recall the events of the night before. If I'd been out of the flat and couldn't recall what had happened, I'd often become panicky, worrying that I'd done something anti-social, or even heinous! As the day would go on, and my body metabolised the residual alcohol in my bloodstream, my anxiety would actually increase. The mental effects of the hangover were sometimes debilitating, and caused me far more suffering than the physical complaints.

The alcohol made my work life difficult, as I imagine I was basically still pissed in the mornings. In addition to this, the increased anxiety I experienced made "the thoughts", as I call my intrusive thoughts, much worse and I found it difficult to concentrate on my job.

Another sad fact of life is that many people, a large enough minority at least, aren't very nice. Unfortunately predatory people could discern that I was in a vulnerable state, and often male colleagues - being naturally competitive, and perhaps insecure themselves - would often subtly try to humiliate me, usually disguising their intent as humour, but sometimes not even bothering to conceal it at all. I have never been a witty person, my mind often struggling to cope with "the thoughts" simultaneously, but it's very difficult when physically, emotionally and mentally exhausted by the effects of a hangover.

Fortunately I did find the resolve needed to kick my drinking habit, though it was only with the help of Alcoholics Anonymous (AA). I would recommend AA to anybody who believes they have a drink problem, as one can find there people who have hit rock bottom and yet still overcome their addiction. I attended meetings in Glasgow's East End, and some people's tales left my hair standing on end and quite literally brought me to tears. It's forbidden to disclose what's discussed in those meetings, and I will not breach the confidence of those who've bravely told their stories to strangers whom they trusted with their most intimate details. But there was often a palpable sense of melancholy within the meeting hall, old people full of regrets, as well as the more harrowing stories about attempted suicides, murdered family members and those whose alcohol induced antics had estranged them from their family and friends.

I decided that I definitely didn't want to be one of those sixty year old men who'd suddenly sobered up and realised they'd wasted their lives or, more frighteningly, hurt those who'd they loved so badly that forgiveness was beyond all hope. I already have a series of regrets from my relatively modest fifteen years of heavy drinking, though I think my outrageous antics have mostly caused me reason to be embarrassed rather than feel guilty, fortunately!

I successfully managed to stop drinking, though it was extremely difficult at first. It was worth the effort though, and my period of absolute sobriety lasted nine months, during which I underwent a metamorphosis. For the first time in my adult life I felt fresh and invigorated mentally and physically, though I became strangely very emotional. Indeed I would sometimes cry from happiness and, this seems very clichéd and is an embarrassing admission, all the beauty in the world. I think in retrospect the alcohol had numbed my emotions, though it may be something physiological - as alcohol does affect the nervous system, I believe - beyond my comprehension. It felt like a gradual epiphany and led me to contemplate the true meaning of life, and religion, though  I didn't join an organised church, but that's another story for another day!

Now and again I do drink and, as has always been the case, I get drunk. I believe that I do have my habit under control though, mostly because the thought of returning to to a cycle of hangovers and inebriation terrifies me..

(to be continued...)

Living with OCD

As I stated in my last post, I suffer from OCD, which has had a major impact upon my life.

I was first diagnosed with the condition about nine years ago, when I was referred to see a psychologist following a few visits to the Glasgow Council on Alcohol (GCA), who had suggested that my alcoholism might be attributable to an anxiety disorder. As I'm sure you can appreciate, those were dark days. Each morning I'd wake up not just with the physical symptoms of a hangover, with which most people will be familiar, but feeling extremely anxious. In fact my anxiety became so bad that I started making appointments to see my GP in an effort to get prescriptions for tranquilisers, which is what led to my referral to the GCA in the first place.

My initial appointments with a psychologist were actually very helpful, and reassured me that the intrusive thoughts I was having were actually quite normal, both in terms of their content and the fact that most people have them. However the problem is that whilst most people easily dismiss them as a 'fleeting annoyance', OCD sufferers tend to dwell on them, and worry about them much more. These thoughts become obsessions, and often the sufferer will develop a compulsion to alleviate the anxiety that they cause. For example, an individual might doubt they've turned off an electrical appliance, like an iron, which in turn might panic them and lead to an obsession. They may then begin a ritual (compulsion) where they check they've turned the iron off several times before leaving the house. Failure to perform the ritual, which is often likely to become more rigorous over time, will lead to extreme anxiety. I have read of a woman whose obsession over this very thing became so bad that she packed her iron into a bag and took it to work with her, and when she thought about the iron she'd check her bag to confirm it was there.

I tend not to have compulsions, at least not physical ones; I have what is often referred to as 'Pure O', which ultimately means I suffer from obsessions - anxiety inducing, intrusive thoughts. For many years my solution to this problem was alcohol! Unfortunately however, I've never been good at moderating my drinking, and so I used to get pissed six nights a week.

Whilst I do not consider myself an alcoholic anymore, I would say that I had a massive drink problem and used alcohol as a sedative. Naturally, I began to develop a tolerance for alcohol and thus began to drink more in order to achieve the desired effect. Things reached a peak a few years ago when I began drinking in the mornings in order to 'cure' my hangovers. Initially this was just at the weekends, but soon I was often drinking before I went into work!

Heavy drinking takes its toll on the human body, and my health deteriorated to the extent that blood tests showed I had raised liver enzymes. I was warned by my doctor that unless I stopped drinking I risked causing irreparable damage to this vital organ...and yet I ignored him and carried on for another year.

(to be continued...)

Who am I?

I would love to be able to answer that question, but in all honesty I'm not sure I can. That may sound like a pathetic, pretentious attempt to appear profound...but it's the truth. The aim of writing this blog is to anonymously record my thoughts and feelings about anything and everything, an online diary I suppose. I'm hoping introspection will prove therapeutic.

I know, or rather can imagine, how other people see me: eccentric, middle-class, genteel. How does one define oneself, though? I suppose there are certain objective facts about me that can be established: I am male, in my mid-thirties; I suffer from OCD; I live in Scotland; I'm currently employed; I'm a home owner. None of those things define who I am, though. I suppose some people may define themselves primarily by a single attribute, characteristic or allegiance, e.g. gay people, certain occupations (e.g. doctors, teachers, soldiers), football supporters, socialists, goths, Muslims, etc. In many respects I envy those people, as ultimately I'd love to feel as though I belong to something.  However I often feel as though I'm very much an individual without an identity - rootless and devoid of purpose.

In case you're wondering, the catalyst for my need for introspection came early last year - the 15th January, 2014 to be precise - when I almost suffered a nervous breakdown. In fact I probably did have a nervous breakdown, or at least I was only able to function with the assistance of strong tranquilisers, such was my level of anxiety. I developed a horrible obsession (in the psychological sense), one that even with anonymity I'm reluctant to describe here.

Many people believe they know what Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is, and often they will even diagnose themselves and others as having the condition. OCD is almost synonymous in most people's minds with excessive cleaning or tidiness. Unfortunately that's not true and the reality is the nature of obsessions are often much more sinister. Just do an internet search for "harm OCD"...

Anyway, that's enough for today. I have work in the morning.