Month: September 2021

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Niamh Walsh wrote an article in the Irish Mail on Sunday that attracted a lot of criticism. In it, she launched an attack on the lack of dress sense exhibited by some Fianna Fail politicians attending their recent think-in at the Slieve Russell hotel.

She described the party as “failing to keep up appearances” and mainly focused on female representatives. She suggested the Louth senator, Erin McGreehan, should have “run an iron” over her dress. She also suggested TD Mary Butler looked like she had been “tango-ed” dressed in orange, adding that, “a circus tent is a more appropriate place for that orange suit.”

Offaly TD, Barry Cowen, came in for a bashing too. It was strong stuff and both the journalist, and the newspaper later apologised.

I’m glad she didn’t live near me back in the sixties. Back then most of us dressed the same; white shirts, black or grey trousers and black or brown leather shoes no matter what the occasion was. There was no such thing as casual wear, at least not where I lived.

Mothers had it tough trying to keep us young lads in clean clothes and decent shoes. Fashion was the least of their worries Between growth spurts, climbing trees and playing football on the road, everything wore out quickly. Heels on socks and elbows on jumpers were patched regularly to extend their life and nobody commented on the state of the clothes. Until the Yanks arrived.

The family next door had relatives who visited from America occasionally including two boys around my own age who were a constant source of wonder. They didn’t dress like the rest of us. They were tanned, and they wore jeans, sneakers, and brightly coloured t-shirts while the only colour we sported was a green shade of envy.

When that style eventually made its way across the pond, we soon learned how to dress casually in clothes that were comfortable and colourful. I adapted to it very quickly and the thought of wearing any kind of formal clothing today makes me wince.

These days, I escape to Cyprus as often as possible and as soon as I land, it’s shorts, t-shirts, and flip flops for the duration of the stay. I don’t need a large supply either because I can rinse them out in the washing machine, throw them out on the balcony and they’re ready for use again the following day. It’s an easy, uncomplicated lifestyle until the topless men arrive.

There is a time and a place for men to go bare-chested and going to the supermarket without a shirt is neither the time nor the place. There is only one thing worse than standing next to a semi naked sweaty man at the check-out and that’s sitting next to him while trying to eat lunch. It’s an assault on the senses and shouldn’t be allowed but others take a different view.

The Irish Naturist Association is the home of naturism in Ireland, and they are celebrating more than 50 years of naturist activities in Ireland. They say naturism is a wholesome family activity which promotes body confidence and harmony with nature through social nudity in a non-sexual environment. According to them, it has proven mental and physical benefits such as body acceptance regardless of size, shape, or age.

The volunteer organisation, whose 500 members range in age from teenagers to octogenarians, aims to promote body positivity through activities such as naked cycling, swimming, yoga, and hiking. Weekly events take place usually in remote parts of the country. Naked sea swimming is particularly popular with new recruits.

Not everyone is happy with naturists. Some locals in the UK were complaining about them running around Sherwood Forest, making a nuisance of themselves. The forest is a well-known tourist spot having been made famous by Robin Hood and his band of Merry Men who, legend has it, robbed from the rich and gave to the poor. I imagine Mr. Hood wouldn’t have been too keen on nudists either. Ordering them to hand over their jewels could have been misinterpreted.

OK, so some people feel the need to run around naked in public. I can understand how that might be pleasant in the heat of the Mediterranean sun, but even on a good day here, goose pimples would never be far away from someone going around in the nip. And the cold isn’t the only enemy.

I can’t cut the grass fully dressed without being attacked by blood thirsty insects who usually leave a reminder of their assault in the form of an itchy lump somewhere on my body. I shudder to think where those lumps might be if I was naked.

If you are brave enough to risk it and would like to experience naturism, Echo readers won’t have to travel far. The Irish Naturist Blog suggests Clonakilty Bay might be a good place to start. They have identified some quiet and secluded coves around Clonakilty Bay, which they say are suitable for naturism. Who knew?

The group says there are no officially approved naturist beaches or sites in Ireland so nude swimming or sunbathing in a public place is illegal. However, provided you use discretion and common sense, they say you should have no problems.

There was none of that carry on in the sixties. Men on the beach dressed fashionably. The legs of the trousers were rolled up to the knees, the sleeves of the white shirt were rolled up to the elbows and a white hankie sat on top of the head with a knot in each corner. Now, that was style.

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According to the Irish Cancer Society, about 3,890 men are diagnosed with prostate cancer every year in this country. To put it another way, one in seven men will get a diagnosis of prostate cancer during their lifetime. A scary statistic whichever way you look at it. It’s a disease that is more common than you may have thought but on the positive side, it’s very treatable when caught in time.

As with all cancers, early detection is vital, so men need to be aware of the symptoms. They should also know it’s possible to develop prostate cancer without displaying any symptoms so it’s all about awareness and being proactive. It’s important to get checked regularly.

This is Prostate Cancer Awareness Month which fits in nicely with my medical calendar. September 25^th, 2018 was the date of my surgery so this is the third anniversary of the removal of my own diseased prostate. I’ve just had my most recent check-up and I got the thumbs up from my consultant. So far, so good and that marks another milestone but I’m not getting complacent either.

Blood tests continue to be part of my life now and that’s ok. I don’t have a problem with that because it was a simple blood test that saved my life three years ago. I had none of the usual symptoms associated with prostate cancer, but my annual check-up showed a rise in my prostate specific antigen (PSA) level. I had no idea what that was until my GP explained it to me.

PSA is a protein produced by normal cells in the prostate and also by prostate cancer cells. It’s normal to have a small amount of PSA in your blood, and the amount rises slightly as you get older and your prostate gets bigger, so while a rise isn’t proof that something is wrong, it can provide an early indication that further exploration could be necessary. It’s a red flag.

In my case, the GP recommended further tests which led to an MRI and then a biopsy and the results confirmed I had prostate cancer. It didn’t come as a shock to me because I had been preparing myself for the worst, but I didn’t like that diagnosis either. Nobody likes the word ‘cancer’ especially when it’s associated with their own body.

Once I got that news, there was only one course of action as far as I was concerned – get it out of me as soon as possible. That was three years ago, and my life has pretty much returned to normal since then. I know of other guys who were going through it at the same and it turned out fine for them too, which proves that a diagnosis of prostate cancer isn’t the end of the world if it’s caught in time and the best way to achieve that is to have regular blood tests.

I’m alive today to tell the story thanks to a timely blood test, a good GP and the skill of a surgeon. A bit of good fortune helped too because I was told after the surgery that the cancer was about to migrate beyond the prostate. Surgery was the right option for me. There was no time for messing around.

Looking back on it now, the tests leading up to the diagnosis were the most stressful part of the journey. The actual surgery and the recovery were nothing to get too worked up about and the stress disappeared as soon as the prostate did. Follow-up visits with my consultant continued every three months for the first year and then became half yearly after that and now they have been reduced to an annual check. All good so far.

I have written about this topic previously, and I have no difficulty talking about it. I will talk to anybody who wants my opinion on any aspect of the process from start to finish and I am more than happy to do so at any time. Other guys who have gone though it are doing the same thing because we all appreciate the importance of creating awareness.

As with all cancers, early diagnosis is vital which is why there are so many awareness campaigns taking place throughout the year. This is life and death stuff, so we need to keep talking. A friend of mine told me he was having some prostate trouble but was reluctant to discuss it with his GP because he didn’t feel comfortable talking about it. That needs to change. There is no room for embarrassment here.

I have received a number of phone calls in recent times from men who have been diagnosed with prostate cancer. They mostly wanted reassurance in relation to the surgery, the recovery and possible side effects and that’s ok. We need to be having these conversations and spreading the message so here it is again.

Get regular blood tests and don’t ignore any symptoms. Not all prostate issues are cancer related but if cancer is an issue, then it’s very treatable when caught in time. It doesn’t always require surgery either.

According to the Irish Cancer Society, prostate cancer often grows slowly and doesn’t cause any symptoms for a long time, if at all and usually only when it has grown large enough to disturb your bladder or press on the tube that drains urine.

The symptoms include passing urine more often, especially at night, trouble starting or stopping the flow, a slow flow of urine and pain when passing urine. Less common symptoms include blood in the urine or semen and a feeling of not emptying your bladder fully. 

If you have any of these, don’t ignore them. Contact your doctor. Better again, don’t wait for signs, just get a blood test.

• 

Mila Kunis and Ashton Kutcher are a celebrity couple. I don’t know them, so I have no idea why they are celebrities, but they caught my eye because of something they said in relation to washing their children. They were married in 2015 and have two kids, but they don’t bathe them every day. In fact, they don’t wash them unless “you can see dirt on them”. They reckon if you can see the dirt on them, clean them. Otherwise, there’s no point.

I’m not so sure about that. How many times during the Covid pandemic have we been told to wash our hands? You can’t beat the power of soap and water the experts keep telling us. But while hand washing is essential, there are some like Kunis and Kutcher who think washing the rest of the body isn’t as important.

Robert H. Shmerling, MD, Senior Faculty Editor, Harvard Health suggested it’s not clear that a daily shower accomplishes much. In fact, he says, a daily shower may be bad for your health. Normal, healthy skin maintains a layer of oil and a balance of “good” bacteria and other microorganisms. Washing and scrubbing removes these, especially if the water is hot. As a result, skin may become dry, irritated, or itchy.

A guy called David Whitlock had a similar outlook, but he took it to extremes. He claims he hasn’t showered or bathed for 15 years, yet, according to himself, he doesn’t have body odour. “It was kind of strange for the first few months, but after that I stopped missing it,” he says. “If I get a specific part of my body dirty, then I’ll wash that specific part” – but never with soap. OK, but I’d like a second opinion on the lack of odour claim.

According to National Geographic, there is an alternative method of cleaning ourselves called “forest bathing”. The term emerged in Japan in the 1980s as a physiological and psychological exercise called shinrin-yoku (“forest bathing” or “taking in the forest atmosphere”). The purpose was twofold: to offer an eco-antidote to tech-boom burnout and to inspire residents to reconnect with and protect the country’s forests.

The Japanese quickly bought into it and researchers began studying the benefits of forest bathing, providing the science to support the belief that time spent immersed in nature is good for us. Forest bathing is not just for the wilderness-lover; the practice can be as simple as walking in any natural environment and consciously connecting with what’s around you.

I wouldn’t put any money on that catching on here. I can’t imagine too many strolling around Glengarriff Wood or Gougane Barra in the middle of November with their clothes piled neatly in the boot of the car. You might return with a cleaner body than the one you started out with, mainly due to the rain, but hypothermia could very likely be your next challenge.

But not all dirt is on the outside of the body. Trimethylaminuria is a word I came across recently. It’s a bit of a mouthful and not something you want to become too familiar with because it’s a rare metabolic disorder in which the body is unable to break down trimethylamine, a nitrogen-containing compound that has a pungent fishy odour.  The more common name for this condition is “fish odour syndrome”.

It has been described as smelling like rotting fish, rotting eggs, garbage, or urine. As trimethylamine compound builds up in the body, it causes affected people to give off a strong odour in their sweat, urine, and breath. The intensity of the odour may vary over time and can interfere with many aspects of daily life, relationships, social life, and career. Some people with trimethylaminuria experience depression and social isolation as a result of this condition.

It’s easy to see how that could get you down. Nobody wants to be giving off bad body odour, but the good news is that treatment is available.

There are some people out there though who pollute the air simply because they just chose to ignore their personal hygiene even though their treatment is a lot less complicated. All they need is soapy water. BO is like a thick fog that lingers and once you smell it, it’s difficult to ignore. Especially if you happen to be in a confined space like an office or a car where there is no chance of escape. There is really no excuse for it; just use the shower.

While there’s no ideal frequency for showering, experts suggest that taking short showers several times a week is plenty for most people unless you have other reasons to shower more often like the poor gong farmers. They would certainly have had good cause to shower more often than most.

Gong-farming was a profession dating back to 15th century England. Gong was the term used to describe the chamber pot and its contents. In those days, when the chamber pot was full, it was emptied out onto the street. Larger towns and cities often had public latrines as well, like giant septic tanks, but they were generally few in number, so they were overused and filled up quickly which is where the gong farmer came in.

A gong farmer’s job was to remove human excrement by shovel and take it out of the town by cart. These guys could only work by night and the conditions were terrible, but it was also dangerous work, and many died from the poisonous fumes. The gong was used to fertilise fields, and dedicated gong-farmers would dig through the muck in search of lost money.

Having emptied a septic tank myself back in the day, I know it would take more than a walk in a forest to get rid of that smell.

• 

Belarussian people can’t travel outside their country easily. The borders are well marshalled, and the necessary documentation required for them to travel abroad can be difficult to come by, which is why the recent movement of large groups of people from Belarus into Poland and Lithuania raised a few eyebrows.

The Belarussian authorities have been accused of sending migrants to Poland as revenge for giving refuge to the Olympic sprinter who criticised her management team for forcing her to run a race she hadn’t trained for. Lithuania has also reported a surge in illegal border crossings from Belarus which they suspect is being orchestrated by President Lukashenko. That doesn’t surprise me.

Back in the noughties I spent a bit of time in Belarus while working for Chernobyl charities. The airport in Minsk in those days was a drab affair with no colour and little or no lighting. Everything was variety of grey and images from old Cold War movies came to mind.

It felt oppressive too. Officials didn’t have much interest in small talk or niceties. On one occasion I was in the airport, returning home after taking a group on a familiarisation trip to areas of the country affected by the fallout from the Chernobyl disaster. Some of the group had checked in overweight luggage so there were charges to be paid and I was quickly identified as the person responsible for the finances.

Before you could say ‘Lukashenko’, two guys appeared next to me, one on either side. The two burly men in leather jackets guided me down a long dark corridor with old wood panelling and glass on both sides, like you would expect to find in a local authority building in Ireland back the fifties.

I was shown into a room where another man sat behind a desk. Nothing was said up to this point and the expressions on these characters made it clear we were not meeting for tea and scones. I was told how much to pay and readily handed over the cash before being sent back to my group.

I was an experienced police officer at that stage, but I still felt intimidated. While I wasn’t in any danger, I got a sense that you could easily disappear in that country and never be heard of again.

On another occasion, after spending two weeks eating from tins and cooking on the side of the road, a gang of us gathered the night before the flight home, for a well-deserved decent meal. Fifteen of us entered the restaurant, one of only a few that could accommodate a number like that at short notice. After the meal, I got the bill and, as I was the man with the kitty, went off to pay.

By the time I got to the kiosk, the bill had doubled. Annoyed but not completely surprised, I argued the toss. It wasn’t my money, so I felt responsible for getting value. The discussion came to an abrupt end when, once again, a couple of rough looking characters appeared beside me. My buddy, Simon Walsh, came to my assistance and it didn’t take us long to realise we were fighting a losing battle, so we quickly decided to pay up and suffer the loss.

That was typical of the atmosphere we operated under in Belarus. It felt as if our every move was being watched; it probably was. It wasn’t unusual to see the KGB lurking in the shadows when we were in the middle of nowhere delivering aid to remote villages. We just had to tolerate that for a few weeks at a time unlike the natives who lived permanently under that regime.

Despite their circumstances, we always found the local people to be welcoming, hospitable and friendly. Even though they didn’t have much, they were always willing to share what little they did have. Food and accommodation were always offered even if it meant doing without themselves. They don’t have an easy life, and many have accepted their fate because as far as they’re concerned, nothing will change. They have little hope.

They have no reason to believe in democracy because for them it doesn’t exist. I remember the first time I was in that country during an election, I innocently asked our interpreter who he thought would win. A teacher by profession, I knew he would have a good handle on the political landscape, but he just laughed and said Lukashenko would win with 85% of the vote. I asked how he knew this, and he said, “Because he always does.”

Election posters of Lukashenko were everywhere but there was no sign of the other candidates. International observers watched the polling stations for violations but when the polling ended, the ballot papers were reportedly collected by Lukashenko’s army and taken away to be counted, far from prying eyes.

That was my experience of life under Lukashenko. It was over twenty years ago, and I remember telling many at the time that his reign would be short lived. Pressure from the civilised world would force him out I told them. The EU was spreading and would soon engulf Belarus. How wrong was I? If anything, Lukashenko has become even more emboldened and continues his reign of terror without any interference.

The most recent incident he is suspected of being involved in, concerns the disappearance of Vitaly Shishov, a 26-year-old Belarusian opposition activist living in the Ukraine. Those close to Shishov said he was happy with life, and they can’t understand why he was recently found hanged in a forest. There were scratches on his face and opponents of Lukashenko are pointing the finger of suspicion at him.

That’s just one of many crimes Lukashenko has been linked to, but he seems to be untouchable.