Testing my level of Vitamin D

Since November last year I have been supplementing my diet with vitamin D tablets – initially 20µg daily, and more recently 50µg. For the full story, click on these links to my earlier posts: 

Vitamin Pills - they're a no-brainer 

Vitamin D - further thoughts 

Despite the recent grotty weather, I live in hope that I will soon be blessed with some sunshine that will enable my body to produce more vitamin D for itself. It therefore seemed a good time to test the amount of vitamin D in my blood. 

Some companies sell simple home test kits. With these I would have placed a few drops of blood on a test strip, waited for 20 minutes or so, then used a mobile phone app to scan the strip. Having seen Dr John Campbell's Youtube video of this method, I wasn't convinced about its accuracy, so I chose a service that carries out laboratory testing of blood samples.

The Monitor My Health service costs £29 – a small price, I judged, to find out what my vitamin D blood level really was.

The instructions were quite clear and easy to follow, though there were a couple of omissions that would have helped this medically ignorant individual.  Firstly, the pack included a cleansing wipe and an alcohol swab, but no hint on when to use them; secondly, there were no suggestions on what to do if my blood flow diminished before I had collected a full sample. For my answers, read on.

 

Here's the test kit; a sample bottle and container, two prickers, an alcohol swab, a cleansing wipe and a couple of small plasters. 

I first had to soak my hands in warm water for a couple of minutes to encourage blood flow, then press the pricker against the side of one of my fingers.  I judged that it would now be wise to cleanse my finger with the alcohol swab before pricking it. 

I was required to collect 600ml of blood. However, I'd barely collected 200ml when the blood flow from my finger almost stopped. Fortunately, I had two prickers, so I repeated the process on another finger - ouch!  Again, the blood flow soon diminished, long before I'd collected enough. Wondering what to do, I had the idea of wiping my finger with a clean tissue... and, lo and behold, the blood started flowing again. Two more wipes and I had my 600ml in the sample tube... but now the blood wouldn't stop! Time to use one of those plasters.

All I had to do now was to put the yellow cap back on the sample tube, insert the tube in its plastic packaging and post it off to the laboratory in Exeter. I popped the unused cleansing wipe and the remaining plaster in our medical box.

Two days later I had my result.

98nmol/L – an excellent result. Indeed, I had almost too much vitamin D in my blood. So, despite the recommendation to "keep doing what you're doing", and taking into account the fact that there ought to be more sunshine about, I've decided to cut my daily vitamin D dose from 50µg to 25µg. At the end of the summer I'll probably repeat the blood test.

Tidenham Tunnel and the Wye Valley Greenway

We have a new tunnel to walk through. On April 1st Tidenham Tunnel, on the former Chepstow-Monmouth branch line, opened as part of the Wye Valley Greenway. It's the  culmination of a project that was conceived in 2019, now turned into reality by an army of dedicated volunteers.

Eager to see it for ourselves, we decided on a 9-mile out-and-back walk, starting in Tintern on a day when the Met Office were forecasting a mixture of sunshine and heavy showers.  As is becoming usual on this blog, I shall try to describe a little of the history of the route.  I'm no historian, but I hope you'll find it interesting.

Oh, and I've had a request to show my photographs in a larger format. It's always been possible to click then for an enlarged view, but I'm pleased to oblige.  This is, as you will see, a beautiful part of the world. 

This is Tintern Wireworks Bridge, where my walk began. It was built to carry a short branch from the Chepstow-Monmouth railway over the River Wye to serve a wireworks on the Welsh side of the river. Unfortunately, by the time it opened in 1874 the wireworks had gone out of business, but the 1900 OS map shows it serving a tinplate works.  Despite this, it was always known as The Wireworks Branch until it was ripped up in 1941.The site of the tinplate works is now a free car park.

 

Here I am, posing for a photo on the English side of the bridge.  The sun shone brightly, but black clouds were gathering downstream.  Would I make it in time to the shelter of Tidenham Tunnel?

No, I wouldn't!  That's Tintern Abbey, viewed through the pelting rain. I hurriedly extracted my kagool from my rucksack, donned it and quickened my pace.  Only after the rain had stopped did I remember that I also had an umbrella in my rucksack.  That would have been useful. 

 

To preserve the continuity of this story, I've inserted this one here. It was taken on our way back to Tintern, which was once more bathed in sunshine.

 

 

This is where the Wireworks branch (left) left the Chepstow-Monmouth railway (right).

And here's the same spot, probably in the early 1950s. Might this be the next extension to the Wye Valley Greenway? The tunnel is much shorter than the Tidenham one, but there's a bit problem at the other end.

The bridge over the River Wye, which would link the route to Tintern Station, has been removed. Which is a pity, as the old Tintern Station has been developed into a lovely little recreation area, with a cafe and picnic tables.  One day, perhaps.

Still over ¾ mile to go to the tunnel. The purpose of this sign is to mark the point at which one must divert over forest tracks and roads when the tunnel is closed - which it does every evening and throughout the winter.

I read somewhere that The Dean Forest Railway have laid claim to the track removed from the tunnel. I'm not sure whether this lot is awaiting collection, or that it's too crummy to be reused.

 

Tintern Quarry and the remains of a railway siding. The quarry doesn't feature on any pre-WW1 maps, so must be fairly modern. It's disused now, but still has a palatial-looking cedarwood office.

My first view of Tidenham Tunnel.

These photos were taken near the northern end of the tunnel.  Further in it's much darker, with just enough light to walk or cycle in safety. We didn't meet any cyclists in the tunnel on our outward or return journeys, but were I to walk it again I'd consider adding some dayglow safety stripes to my rucksack.

Out in the sunshine once more.

Here's a nice photo, featuring the bridge under which I was standing in the last photo and taken (at a guess) around the time when the last train ran through the tunnel in 1981. Tintern Tunnel is now the second-longest in England through which one may walk or cycle.

Times without number I've driven along this stretch of the A48, looked up at the bridge and wondered what remained of the railway on top.  Now I know.

 

South of the A48 bridge the Greenway runs on an embankment with lovely views over the River Severn to Oldbrook.

Snipehill Bridge isn't quite at the end of the Greenway, but it's where we turned to retrace our steps. That train in the distance is passing the point at which the Chepstow-Monmouth line used to branch off the mainline. Years after the tracks were lifted, it's still called Wye Valley Tunnel Junction on Ordinance Survey maps.

 

Yer Withvar? Not a hope.

To English-speaking folk the highest mountain in Wales has been known as Snowdon since at least 1095. Now, however, there's a proposal before the National Park authority to call it only by its Welsh name, Yr Wyddfa. 

Enthusiasts for the change point to Uluru, the famous huge red rock in Australia that used to be known to most people as Ayers Rock. It had been named thus in honour of Sir Henry Ayers, who was Chief Secretary of South Australia when the rock was 'discovered' in 1873. As Aborigines rightly point out, though, they had discovered it many centuries beforehand. Today it's officially known by both names, though Uluru is gaining popularity, particularly among Australians. 

 

However, Uluru has one important advantage over Yr Wyddfa – it's easily pronounceable by English speakers.  

I have a great deal of sympathy for Welsh folk who are proud of their heritage and their success in keeping alive their mother tongue. It isn't their fault that so much of their treasured language is hard for English speakers to decipher. The Scots, Irish and Cornish all have the same problem. The Welsh, however, have the great advantage that their language is taught in school. Thankfully for me, my mum was schooled in North Wales during the Second World War and learned a lot of Welsh pronunciation to pass on to her family. I'm therefore able to have a fair attempt at Yr Wyddfa, along with this one...

 

Having spoken to a few residents of Dolgellau, I know how they despair at English-speaking folk calling it Dol-geloo. Not so long ago, though, the anglicised version of their town's name was in common use, and then everyone got it sort-of right.

 

For Yr Wyddfa, though, perhaps the best one can hope for is that its probable mispronunciation – Yer Widefar – won't cause to much offence to the natives. At least it's better than Dol-geloo.  If it does offend, then I hope that they follow the Australian example and continue to accept both names, Yr Wyddfa and Snowdon.