RSV Vaccine Trial – a big disappointment

I was playing sudoku on my smartphone a few weeks ago when, instead of the usual inane advertisements, an invitation popped up to participate in the stage-three trial for a new vaccine. 

RSV – Respiratory Syncytial Virus –  causes mild cold-like symptoms in most people, but can be serious for infants and the elderly, hence the need for a vaccine.  Since volunteers were now being sought for the stage three trials –  implying that the major risks had already been assessed – this looked like a low-risk opportunity to put something back into medical research, from which I had already benefitted greatly.

I completed an online application and a few days later had a video call from a representative of Synexus.  We reviewed my medical history, after which I was told that I was a suitable candidate for the trials.  After vaccination at their Cardiff clinic I would be required to keep a regular online diary and return to the clinic when required.   Was I willing to do this?  Yes, I was – indeed, I was most enthusiastic.

On Monday 6th December I drove the 42 miles to Cardiff for a session that was expected to take about 4 hours.  There were a lot of forms to read and sign, and an app to download onto my smartphone, then, once again, the doctor reviewed my medical history.  Things were going very well until she checked my blood pressure.  I forget what the diastolic reading was, but the systolic one was 175 – way too high. We waited a couple of minutes before trying again. This time it was 190!  It then settled back to 170, but this was far too high for me to continue with the trial and receive the vaccination.  Reluctantly, I was excluded from the trial and, after little more than an hour in the clinic, sent home with a cheque for £103 to cover my expenses.

Later that day I checked my resting blood pressure on my own monitor and it was a healthy 123:69. I continued to check it at random times of the day over the following week, and it never rose above 132:78.  I conclude that I must have been more anxious than I'd felt during the assessment process with Synexus. I've heard of people having 'white coat syndrome,' in which the anxiety of having ones blood pressure checked in a clinic drives it high. Well, I've never suffered from that one in the past but, as they say, there's a first time for everything. Perhaps the long drive through rain and heavy traffic hadn't helped either, though I'd had almost an hour to settle down from this before my blood pressure had been tested. All very odd.

In the not-too-distant future (when the present rush to deliver Covid jabs dies down) I'm expecting to be called to the Health Centre for a routine health check. Even if my blood pressure is normal, I shall mention my unhappy experience to the nurse.

Would I volunteer for another trial with Synexus? I'd like to, but first I want to understand what went wrong this time.

Did I really need a new computer? Perhaps not.

It's been a while since I've blogged here.  My primary excuse for absence is that my 7-year old Dell laptop computer has been running slower and slower with every passing month, and refusing to install Microsoft updates. In desperation, I tried several of Microsoft's remedies and lots of 'useful' tips on respected Internet sites, but to no avail. Finally I concluded that the ageing machine – which was far from 'state of the art' when I bought it – had reached the end of its useful life and (like its owner) needed to be pensioned off.  It's replacement – a snazzy HP that doubles up as a tablet – cost me rather a lot of money and goes like the wind... but that's not the subject of this post. 

What could I do with the old one? It had been too faithful a friend to consign to landfill. I'd heard some nice things about the Linux operating system and wondered what would happen if I installed it on the old Dell.

Unlike Windows, there are many incarnations of Linux – all compatible with one another, but aimed at differing sectors of the computer market.  For beginners like me, Ubuntu came out top of most reviewers' lists as it has many similarities to Windows. I decided to give it a try.  

After several hours learning about GNOMEs, ISO files and a program called RUFUS (which does wonderful things to ISOs) – and getting it wrong several times – I finally succeeded.  In retrospect, it really isn't that complicated if, unlike me, you follow the instructions instead of guessing the next step. Sigh...

Here's the main screen, with a selection of 'favourite' apps on the left side. It must be possible to change the background picture to a photo, but I rather like the pussy cat.  Presumably, he's supposed to be a wild (but friendly) big cat to fit with the name Ubuntu, which (according to Wikipedia) comes from the South African Bantu language and means 'humanity to others'.  

One of the founding principles of Linux is that everything is free. Moreover, thanks to its relative unpopularity, it's also inherently safe as the criminal fraternity prefer to plant their viruses in popular operating systems such as Windows and Mac OS. 

Ubuntu comes with Mosilla Firefox and Libre Office already installed and ready to go. I have long been a fan of Libre Office, and it's ancestor Open Office, and use it for all my word processing, spreadsheet and presentation work.  Why pay for things that one may have for free?

Firefox is great, but I prefer Chrome. Downloading and installing it was very easy, and it works every bit as well as its Windows cousin. 

Finally, if Linux was going to be a success then I needed an app to edit my photos. As with Windows, I was spoiled for choice but, at least for now, I've settled on one called PixelFX. It's a 'beta' version, which means that it might have a bug or two in it, but first impressions are that it's perfect for my needs. 

So there it is.  My ageing Dell laptop has been given a new lease of life. With speeds in excess of its best days as a Windows computer, I can already use it for word processing, spreadsheets, presentations (PowerPoint-type applications), surfing the Internet, blogging, emails....  And all at zero cost.

The big question is....  

Why ever did I bother to buy a new Windows computer?

Rockin' in the Aisles

It's been a long, long Covid Winter – more than 18 months long – with no opportunities for gigging with my ukulele-playing friends in the Ukes uv Azzard. 'Spring' dawned in the middle of July, when we were invited to play on Chepstow Bandstand, though sadly there was no-one on hand to take usable photographs. Since then, the group has had a couple of engagements, though I was unable to join them.

One that I had absolutely no intention of missing took place last Saturday night – my first chance since lockdown to gig indoors with my friends. The venue was Hope Mansell Church – a tiny building with a huge welcome, at the end of a long and bumpy lane.  Not all the Azzards could make it, but those of us who did soon had the old building ringing to the sound of Blue Suede Shoes, Jackson, Under the Moon of Love and lots more of our favourite songs. And when it came to Sweet Caroline everyone seemed to join in, waving arms in the air and singing out "so good, so good, so good."  What fun we all had!

In these photos by Steve, I'm the one on the left with the white cardigan. 

Irish Reflections

St Finan's Bay

I've just finished sorting and titling my Irish holiday photos. It's taken far longer than expected, thanks to several pleasurable interruptions such as our Golden Wedding Anniversary holiday – postponed from last year because of Covid.

Rather than publish yet another post about some obscure yet beautiful corner of the Emerald Isle, I thought it would be nice to reflect on the whole holiday. These thoughts are based solely on my fortnight's experience in County Kerry, which hardly makes me an expert... but here goes anyway.

People 

Meet anyone on a ramble in the English, Welsh or Scottish countryside and you're almost guaranteed to get a cheery "Hello!" Ireland is very different. Time and time again we met people – from lone farmers to groups on outings from Dublin – who would enthusiastically strike up a conversation. Their first three questions were nearly always the same: Where are you from?.. Are you having a good time?.. What do you think of Brexit?

From these pleasurable encounters, that could delay our walk by anything up to half an hour, we learned that many in Ireland have been hit hard by Brexit, as trade barriers go up between them and their nearest trading nation. They're also intensely worried by the 'hard talk' emanating from Northern Ireland over its border disputes with the rest of the UK. Though to a man and woman they love their country, many also have fond memories of living and working in England; memories that they're keen to tell you about. In short, they could not have been more friendly.

The bit of Europe beyond the UK

I've been to France many times, where it feels very foreign indeed... and rightly so. To the English (and Cornish), Ireland is 'foreign' as well, but in a very different way. They speak English, they drive on the left, they use 13 amp plugs and they shop at Lidl and Aldi and Tesco. But there the similarities end, imparting a unique 'feel' to the country.  And I don't just mean buying things in euros.

Oh, and on the subject of Tesco, I strongly advise against trying to use Tesco UK's Pay+ app in Ireland. I tried it in Killarney and crashed the check-out computer!

When we were last in Ireland, back in 1997, the country was in the process of converting all its road signs from Imperial measure to Metric.  They had set about it in a way that perhaps only the Irish could.

This signpost in Inchigeela informed me that Gougane Barra was 9 miles to the left, whilst Macroon was 18 kilometres to the right!  The speed limit through Inchigeela was 40 miles/hour.

24 years later... and metrication is complete. Even the 'T' road designations have passed into history, replaced with 'R' for regional. They also have 'M' (motorway), 'N' (national) and 'L' (local) roads.

Language

Gaelic (gaeilge) is the official language of the Irish Republic, although English is very much the everyday working language. Look again at that 'new' signpost in Inchigeela and notice that the town to the left is written only in Gaelic. To you and me, the place may still be Ballingeary, but officially it is no more.  The reason for dropping bilingual designations is that Béal Atha Ghaorthaidh, together with many other (mainly rural) areas of Ireland, has been designated An Ghaeltacht – Irish Speaking.

A consequence of this Gaelic-ising is that some once familiar towns have disapeared from the Ordinance Survey maps. It therefore took me a while to recognise Daingean Uì Chuts as being Dingle.  Reassuringly for English speakers, though, Dingle was still much in evidence in the town – Dingle Oceanworld, Dingle Boat Tours... and (praise be) Dingle Whisky Distillery.

Maps

The 1:50,000 Ordinance Survey maps are very good, though not quite as detailed as their UK namesakes.

 

Contours are shown in 10 metre intervals (as on UK maps) but roads and railways are simply drawn over the landscape without any indication of cuttings or embankments. Oddly, though, mileposts are shown on the railway lines. 

Rambling

Ireland does not have the historic network of footpaths that we enjoy in the UK, nor is there a 'right to roam' in the open countryside. This caught us out when we were walking a waymarked path around Bolus Head and were tempted to try an unmarked path to the top of Bolus Hill (shrouded in mist in this photo). A fence not far from the summit precluded reaching the top itself.  

County Kerry does, however, have some great paths that are clearly marked on the OS maps, such as the one we followed up Torc Mountain and the long-distance Kerry Way, with its many alternative tracks.

Disappointments

Only one. Thanks to the continuing Covid restrictions, singing in pubs was not permitted, denying me one of the great joys of evenings in Ireland. I still have very happy memories of sipping Guinness and singing folk songs well into the night in Dingle, 24 years ago. "So long, it's been good to know you," they sang as we finally departed and I staggered back to our holiday cottage.  One day, I promise, I shall return again. Hopefully before too long.

Mediterranean Blue Seas and a bird for Cornwall

During the 15 days of our holiday in south-west Ireland we had just one day of rain. Considering the Emerald Isle's reputation for wet weather, we counted ourselves blessed indeed. Wednesday 5th September (the day before it rained) was exceptional – 27° in the shade and hardly a breath of wind. We drove up to the Kerry Ring then headed round to Derrynane Bay, for an interesting 8km (5 mile) walk, featured in a book we bought before setting out for Ireland – Ireland's Wild Atlantic Way.  

This is Derrynane Bay, viewed from high on the Kerry Ring.

Turning the camera to the left brings Abbey Island into full view, with its sandy beach. On the skyline are the mountains of the Beara Peninsula, somewhat lost in the heat haze. 

The next three photos feature part of the ruined abbey of Abbey Island, said to have been founded by St Finian. Wikipedia lists three St Finians who are associated with Ireland. I think this one must have been Crooked St Finian (St Finian Cam), so named because he either stooped or had a squint. As I clambered around his island, I found myself irreverently singing the song about the crooked little man who, with his entourage, lived in a crooked little house.

From the abbey a track known as the Mass Path weaves its way along the coastline, towards a little harbour.  This is the route devout worshippers in centuries gone by would have taken in order to celebrate Mass in the abbey. As we walked along, the calm sea to our left looked even more blue and inviting that before. Why ever did I not bring a swimming costume?

Back near our starting point I was in for a treat – two large black birds hopping about in the short grass. A pair of crows, perhaps? No, these had red beaks, which could mean only one thing – they were choughs. Their distinctive chawk confirmed it.

I've only ever seen choughs once before, and that was about 10 years ago near Lands End. For many years they were all but extinct in Cornwall, which was a great, great pity since they are our national bird, depicted on Cornish crests and coats of arms.

More recently, numbers have been rising again, so I'm hopeful that I'll live to see more Cornish Choughs.  Until that day, though, I'm delighted to have seen a couple of their Irish cousins and been close enough to photograph them.

Torc Mountain

Torc Mountain rises some 500 metres above the waters of Muckross Lake, near Killarney. The trek to the summit is a popular one and fairly easy, as mountain climbs go. Wishing to avoid the crowds and enjoy a peaceful picnic lunch on the summit, we set out early from our holiday cottage. 

That's Torc Mountain up on the skyline. To a couple of hardened hill walkers like us it looked easy enough... and indeed it was, thanks in no small part to the provision of boardwalks (make of old railway sleepers) over the boggy bits. I do look a bit tired though, don't I. In truth, I was by now wondering why I'd bothered to bring along that thick green cardigan.

As we neared the summit we met two groups of people descending, who encouraged us to go on. "The views are amazing," they told us.

And they were.  That's lovely Lough Leane spred out before me, with its many small islands, and the houses of Killarney on the far side of the lough.

Torc Mountain (Gaelic: Sliabh Torc) means 'Mountain of the Wild Boar'. I am reliably informed that one unfortunate hill walker who fell foul of the Devil was required to spend his nights up here, transformed into a boar. Later, due to an unfortunate encounter with a hill farmer, he burst into flames and was never seen on Torc Mountain again.  I think the moral of the story is that one should avoid staying on the mountain after nightfall – a warning that I was happy to heed.

If

In the photo below you can just see Muckross Lake and the narrow peninsula of land that separates it from Lough Leane. If you look closely, you might be able to make out Brickeen Bridge and Dinis Island (with what looks like a river on its left side), that I mentioned in my last Irish post.

Muckross House is in the centre of this photo, and Muckross Lake in the foreground.

Finally, having passed on the pleasures during our walk around Muckross Lake of climbing up to Torc Waterfall via the infamous Cardiac Steps, we climbed down to it on our way back from the mountain.

Travertine Dams and a lovely coincidence

Steve and El have been filming in the Forest of Dean, helping to build a case for the Forest to be designated a UNESCO Biosphere, in recognition of its unique landscape and biodiversity. If successful, this will hopefully form a catalyst for organisations to work together in protecting this rich heritage from the ravages of over-commercialisation and over-extraction of precious resources.

Steve and El were lodging for a few nights with my good friend Bridget and mentioned their interest in the Travertine Dams of Slade Brook, and in particular a post written about the dams in a blog called About Angie. “I know Angie!” says Bridget.

Now how's that for an amazing coincidence? After an excited phone call from Bridget, it was settled;  I would take Steve and El to film the dams.

A little bit of science... Travertine Dams are formed when underground water absorbs limestone from the rocks through which it flows. When this water springs to the surface it inevitably splashes over stones and fallen twigs, causing carbon dioxide to be released and the limestone to come out of solution and be deposited on the obstructions. In time these deposits grow to form small dams and waterfalls. The Travertine Dams of Slade Brook are among the best in the world and are already a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) – truly a jewel of the Forest of Dean.

As we made our way to St Briavels, I learned that I wasn't just going to be navigator and guide for the day.  

"Are you willing to be recorded?" they asked. 

"That's fine," said I, "so long as you don't ask me any awkward questions."

"Okay, Angie.  What gave you the idea of writing a blog?"  That was easy – a move from Corwall eight years ago and a whole new forest to explore, together with the glorious Wye Valley and the distant hills of Wales.

How were these Travertine Dams formed?"  I knew the answer to that one (see above) and did my best to explain it 'live'.  This girl was on a roll. "Next question, please."

"What can you tell me about the dangers to the ecology and environment of the Forest of Dean?"

"Um... errr..."

In truth, though, it all went pretty smoothly and I was treated to an hour or so of watching a couple of professionals at work.

 

 

Not only is El a skilled sound recordist, but she's also an accomplished acrobat – a talent that Steve was keen to make use of in his film.  Exactly how acrobatics relate to UNESCO biospheres, I know not, but I've been promised a 'pre-release' look at the film we worked on and feel sure that it will be brilliant. 

Finally, acrobat El and guide Angie posed for a selfie.

Muckross

Muckross House and its extensive estate on the shores of Lough Leane were presented to the Irish nation in 1932, becoming their first National Park. It's grown a bit since then and is a popular destination for visitors from far and wide. During our week's holiday near Killarney we visited it no less than three times – once to see the Traditional Farms, once to walk beside the Lough and around Muckross Lake and once to buy ice creams and rest a while after an exhausting ascent of Torc Mountain. This post describes the lakeside walk; in the next I'll take you up the mountain.

From the large free car park it took a while for us to get our bearings, but we eventually found our way to the ruins of Muckross Friary. Like friaries and monasteries throughout Great Britain and Ireland, this one was dissolved by order of Henry VIII. It then re-established itself 71 years later, only to be finally snuffed out by Oliver Cromwell's lot in 1652.

This Yew tree in the courtyard, surrounded by well-preserved cloisters, must have been a baby when the abbey was in use. I wonder what the abbot would make of it now?

A short walk from the abbey brought us to the shores of lovely Lough Leane.

 

We were now walking along Muckross Peninsula – an ever-narrowing spit of land that separated Muckross Lake from Lough Leane.  The oak woodlands here are important remnants of forests that once dominated the Irish landscape. The writer of our Kerry Walks book, Kevin Corcoran, makes clear his enthusiasm for them:  It is hard to imagine today what a wondrous country Ireland must have originally been. Thus, it is a great delight to learn that a tiny fraction of this forest system has survived, where one can experience to some small degree the glories of the past.

Here I am beside Muckross Lake – a spot that turned out to be perfect for a picnic. Torc Mountain rises behind me.  In the next photo you can seen Brickeen Bridge, with its unusual Gothic arch spanning the meeting of lake and lough.  Crossing that takes one onto Dinish (or Dinis) Island.

 

A little further around Muckross Lake is Dinis Cottage, where they serve tasty but rather expensive refreshments. I made the mistake of not checking prices before ordering two coffees and two small slices of carrot cake, and paid €17 for my folly. That'll teach me to be content with a picnic! 

Unlike the quite footpath that we had been following, this spot was well populated with sightseers, many of whom had arrived by boat from the other end of the lake. Hardy souls that we are, we spurned the boats and continued our trek around the lake.

There are two routes back to Muckross House. One includes a near-vertical ascent of the Torc Mountain foothills on what locals call The Cardiac Steps – not, it would seem, without reason. According to our Kerry Walks book, those who survive are rewarded with spectacular views across Lough Leane before arriving at Torc Waterfall. Neither of us took much persuading to defer these pleasures to another day, when we planned to climb the mountain itself. 

And so back to Muckross House. The name intrigued me as it's hardly a pretty one.  I did my best to impart some dignity by pronouncing it Mer-cross, but the locals I spoked to were happy with Muck-ross. 

In Galic it's Mhucrois, which looks nearer to my pronunciation and means 'Peninsula of the Pigs'.  So muck might be quite near the truth after all!

 

The Gift of The Gab

In my youth (quite recently, that is) I imagined the Blarney Stone to be a lump of rock, conveniently sited on a hillside, which one might easily walk up to and embrace. It isn't. It's actually a block of limestone, built into a rather inaccessible part of Blarney Castle's ancient battlements, 85 feet above ground level.

In the good old days, one kissed it by leaning out into thin air beneath the battlement, while a trusted friend took a firm grip of ones ankles. Not a manoeuvrer for the faint hearted. Thankfully, these days there are protective rails to reduce the risk to life and limb.

As is well known, kissing the Blarney Stone bestows The Gift of the Gab, which, according to one John O'Connor Power, “is something more than mere flattery. It is flattery sweetened by humour and flavoured by wit.” Who would not desire such a gift? How much more progress might I have made in life, free from the social impediment of an underdeveloped wit? Sadly, I shall never know, but the time had come to make good the deficiency.

 

Yes, that's the Blarney Stone at the base of the battlements.

On busy days the queue of folk waiting their turn to kiss the Blarney Stone can snake around the battlements and down the steps to the bottom – a wait of at least an hour. However, at 9.15 on a sunny Saturday morning we had time to treat ourselves to coffee and a sticky bun before ascending to the battlements with no queue at all.

“Be sure to get a good photo!” I said to S-- before projecting myself into thin air – ably assisted, it must be said, by a guy with a reassuringly firm grip on my torso. 

 I gave the stone two quick kisses before being hauled back to safety.  Mission accomplished.