A cautionary tale about an all-natural 'super food'

There has been a fair bit in the media recently about people becoming ill (or worse) due to natural or herbal products. My general attitude is that just because something is natural doesn't mean it isn't harmful and we really should remember that almost anything in excess can harm or kill you. You can overdose on water for instance, yet we can't survive without it. Plus let's all remember that some of the most toxic substances on Earth are natural.

Most people who know me know I am a balance kind of person. I try to eat mostly pretty well and use supplements where there is benefit. A lot of my attitude to food and eating has to do with the fact I once suffered from an eating disorder and since I recovered I am very wary of diets or restrictive eating in any form. But a lot of it too, I like to think, is common sense and not wanting to believe fads without at least looking into it first. Of course the fact that I'm not giving up chocolate, twisties, pasta or certain other yummy foods any time soon has a lot to do with the whole 'balance' thing!

So here we have a cautionary tale coming from me, someone who should have known better. I have been suffering digestive upsets recently, often quite severe. Some might assume I must be eating really badly or else they 'helpfully' recommend I cut out gluten, milk or any other such thing that is considered the latest big bad wolf of food. I may even get dirty looks for not having drunk a green smoothie this past week .... or you know .... Ever!

So it was with some surprise that I have discovered that my problem substance is in a fact something that has been touted as being good for me, labelled as a super food ( I hate that term!) and isn't involved in the production of twisties or freddo frogs or any such things. It is in fact Maca.

Yes that incredible substance everyone is telling you to eat! Proponents claim that Maca balances your hormones, gives you energy, increases your sex drive, supplies high doses of certain vitamins and more. Well it possibly can if you look at what it is and how it actually works. So in other words, if you step back from our crazy western obsession with foods of the moment, our habit of 'discovering' staples from subsistence farmers, and our pretentious assumption that we must know better, there may be something there ... but look with caution. 

Because those subsistence farming people do know their stuff, a lot better than us as it turns out. A Peruvian might indeed prefer their Maca to be organic and labeled vegan, who knows? But they would never eat it raw, as is the form it often comes to our health food shops in. For thousands of years the Peruvians have respected the Maca plant, used it in moderation and cooked it! Because raw it causes severe digestive problems, such as I have been experiencing. I do wonder if they are all laughing at us? Raw Maca? Seriously? Crazy, stupid sanctimonious western morons! 

Yep pretty much sums us up huh? The realisation that perhaps it could be causing my problems started to solidify very quickly when I took to google. If you search 'does Maca cause digestive problems?' you will find some very valuable and thought provoking reading. As much as I have suffered, I have found tales of people with severe digestive discomfort weeks or even months after they last ingested the stuff. They too googled their query too late.

So sometimes something touted as healthy can cause more harm than good if you don't understand what the product is and how it works. Maca is a plant and cooking it doesn't strip away the vitamins or any other such rubbish you might have heard about cooking, it actually takes away all the stuff that is indigestible. Additionally raw Maca can harbour dangerous bacteria which if ingested can cause severe problems of their own. None of which is stated on the packet of the stuff you are intended to throw in your smoothies, or even on the bottle of the capsules. 

If you want to use Maca as a supplement, show caution. It may be there are a lot of benefits if you eat it cooked as part of a balanced diet, in small amounts, a few times a week like the Peruvians do. But even if you get the gelatinised versions ( cooked so therefore digestible) who knows what large amounts of the stuff shoved into a daily smoothie might be doing? Maybe it is in fact making us stronger, wiser, more effervescent and overall more healthy ... Or maybe not.

So my cautionary tale is this .... natural doesn't mean it can't harm you, raw isn't always best and you shouldn't ingest anything new without first researching it. Because chances are anything negative isn't making it onto the packaging, especially if the words 'super food' are involved. 

But I Wanna See the Monkeys!!

So it is about time I shared some of my tales from my latest holiday to Japan. It was December 2015 so you know, better late than never! Here is a tale about how I managed to overcome obstacles and visit the amazing Monkey Park at Arashiyama. Enjoy!

Sometimes having a chronic illness can put a dent in holiday plans. I certainly don't have huge amounts of stamina but I manage with good meds and plenty of rest. Plus coffee and sugar can help too!

Our latest trip this past December (2015) was to Japan. We have been twice before but this was our first time visiting Osaka and Kyoto. One of the things on our to-do list was to visit Arashiyama whilst in Kyoto. It promised a lot and delivered. It was a gorgeous little town with outstanding scenery and an old world feel. It was spectacular. One thing that was a must while there was to visit the Monkey Park. The Park is high up a mountain and has become popular because the monkeys seem to like it and so stay there. A ready-made tourist attraction.

                                                         

The Japanese Macaques Monkeys have been an attraction for many years. There are approximately 120-150 monkeys currently living there and they are all named. There are very strict rules about how visitors can interact with the monkeys. No touching or feeding the monkeys, (you can feed them from inside the visitors hut) or making eye contact with them. These are still wild animals after all, even if they do not bat an eyelid at the amount of humans who visit every day.

Now I knew it would be a climb. You just have to look at the pictures online to realise how high up it was. I really wanted to go though, so decided we just had to.

Well aside from my chronic illness I was also by this point - about 8 days into a 10 day trip, very tired and sore. I imagine most people would have been with the amount of walking we had done. We had visited so many places and we had walked and walked.... Though mostly it was flat and not hiking up a mountain.

So imagine me - tired and sore at the best of times now attempting a walk fit people would struggle to do. It was entirely uphill and was said to take approximately 20 minutes (I think we took longer) and once you got to the top you were at 160m above sea level.

So we started off. There is a massive stairway that gets you so far and is hard going. I saw other people out of breath and stopping for a rest. After this you were still probably less than 1/4 of the way. There were more stairs at various points but mostly it was a zig zagging rough path that was incredibly steep.

Now after those stairs I was tired and sore and a bit out of breath but I was still keen. Around a couple of more bends each with seats to rest on. When I started getting wobbly I made a game with myself and would say ok 50 steps and then rest. This worked for a while. Just about half way or maybe a bit over we rested on a bench and I noticed the large map on a billboard.

I sighed and panicked. I could barely move by this point and the map showed me just how far we still had to go. I felt defeated, no amount of trying would get me there. People walked past going up and people walked past going down. One of whom was smoking a cigarette which seemed like a cruel jest. Even someone who smokes can make it up there!

So I told my husband David that that was it, he would have to go alone. He didn't want to go alone and suggested we simply turn back. I didn't respond straight away. I felt too fatigued to even get up and walk downhill. But a part of me was rebelling. Each time I said to myself or out loud that I could never make it a little voice inside me screamed 'but I wanna see the monkeys!' The more I expressed that I couldn't do it the louder that little voice inside me grew.

I'm still not sure entirely what happened. Perhaps it was that we had paid for our tickets, or that I didn't want to let David down. Or perhaps simply it was my love of animals and the fact that I really wanted to see the monkeys. Because if it had simply been a walk for the view then I would have turned back ... Ticket and all.

But we didn't turn back. I took a deep breath, and headed on and I said that we would go a bit further and see what happens. Though I knew I was actually determined to get to the top no matter what.

So we did it! Well I did it. I imagine David would have been able to do it without the hesitation and doubt. As soon as we first sighted the monkeys I knew it had been worth it. They were adorable. We watched some frolic near stones around a pond including a little baby tentatively taking a drink and trying to avoid the large well fed koi that were resident.

After a quick peek at the view we went into the little visitors hut to have hot coffee in a can (the Japanese are so clever with these thing) and to purchase food to feed the monkeys. You are required to feed them through the bars from inside the hut and not outside in the open. Presumably so they don't get too hungry and attack! So armed with my apple pieces and peanuts I proceeded to feed the monkeys.

Each monkey was an individual, though their place in the family quite obvious, There was a couple of old ones. One in particular looked like quite an elderly gent and had what seemed to be a glaucoma in one eye. His movements were very slow and deliberate. He stuffed two peanuts in his mouth and held onto a piece of apple before he departed ... No doubt he wanted to go and snack slowly and in peace!

There were some younger ones who were slightly smaller. They were fairly fast and very hungry but they were no match for the alpha males. While feeding a juvenile I heard a noise coming from the roof. The juveniles jumped down quickly just as a large monkey popped down for the roof and held out his hand to me greedily, obviously what he says goes! He was very greedy. So much so I had to get to a point where I told him firmly that there was one more piece of each for him and that was his lot!

Even the baby came for a snack. His movements were erratic and a bit clumsy and unlike his elders he took one peanut and spent an age chewing on it. Also once he left the hut he almost walked straight off the edge of the mountain, but he was saved as another monkey gently put his hand in the way and pushed him back. I don't think it was his mother, possibly an uncle or aunt or cousin. I imagine they take turns watching the baby and stop him from going off the side a few dozen times each day!

Strangely each monkey took the food from my hand very gently and graciously. I lay my hand out flat with the food on my palm and they carefully reached through the bars with one hand and took it then put it in their mouth. It really felt like they were saying 'Oh an apple piece? For me? I don't mind if I do. Thank you!'

After leaving the hut, we enjoyed the panoramic view some more and then headed down. I was dizzy with wonder and amazement by now plus going down was obviously a lot easier and used different muscles. At one point David pointed and said 'that is where you almost gave up.' It was powerful and I wondered how I ever could have thought of not making it to top ... Even if David had actually pointed to the wrong spot...

On the way down I saw people heading up looking bright red, out of breath and exhausted. I wished I had had a megaphone on me as I wanted to shout 'Keep going. It's worth it for the monkeys!' Though I am sure they realised that for themselves once they made it.

So I did something I wanted to do despite the odds. Now as happy as I was about it I am not stupid. I have not cured myself and the fact is I must have had it in me that day. I still cannot do as much as others and that is okay. Plus I knew then and know now that there would be and are consequences. I did a lot less than I wished on the last couple of days of the trip. Plus I've been very weak since I got back. I started this year in a huge flare up that I had anticipated!

So I'm not saying that I can do anything if I put my mind to it. But I am very pleased that on that particular day I was able to go a bit further than I had thought. Because the monkeys really were worth it, as was Arashiyama ... It is one of the most beautiful places on earth. I highly recommend it.

Enjoy some photos!

A view of Arashiyama

Its uphill already!

Baby monkey

Baby monkey drinking

View from the monkey park

The hut at the monkey park

large monkey drinking

isn't he sweet?

Monkey and koi

Proof it was high up!

Monkeys grooming - as they do!

I have an inner toddler who HATES editing!

Sometimes I think that deep down inside me there is a toddler that hates to edit and she really wants to break out and make her displeasure known.

The other day I had finished my first draft of a piece and noticed that it was twice the number of words it needed to be. I didn't have a chance to be in shock or think of a solution before that little toddler wanted to throw a complete tizzy and have a meltdown. I wanted to scream, 'Noooooo! I am not going to shorten it. They will just have to deal with it as is!'

Of course I didn't actually have a physical meltdown and I did not even cry. Suddenly I felt like the parent having to explain to the toddler why that initial reaction really wasn't helpful.

So I explained to myself that words counts were in place for a reason. That a first draft is always going to be long and need editing and that there was sure to be loads of stuff that could be cut. Once edited the piece would be much better.

So the toddler sighed and sullenly agreed to scroll back to the beginning and start reading in preparation for the editing process.

So I gave myself the pep talk.... Stick to the angle… if it doesn't fit with the angle then cut it. Don't say the same thing twice ... then got to work. Of course I halved it and of course it did read better. 

There was a time years ago when I could not tame that toddler and I wrote pieces that were not tight enough and thus were not the best they could be. I think learning to tame that toddler was a turning point for me as a writer. 

Of course it may be that I am just a little bit crazy ... but then again I think that helps me as a writer too!

Do you have an inner toddler that wants to fight the editing process?

Writers - why not give a character an unusual phobia? There are so many to choose from!

There are so many more phobias in existence than I ever thought possible. I found out in an unusual way. I was mucking around with one of those apps for writers where you can look through lists of names, occupations, body types and all sorts of things supposedly to help you get over any writers block that has you wondering - 'just who is the character?' Or else when on page 63 you suddenly think you need to know the occupation of one of your characters and for the life of you can't think of one ...

So anyway there's an app for that. But what this app can also provide you with is a list of phobias. What if you decide one of your characters should have a phobia? I mean spiders is a bit obvious as is heights. So instead why don't you try finding an unusual phobia even if the particular phobia you choose might never actually become at all relevant in your story? Here's a few ideas to get you started.

How about auroraphobia? Which is the fear of the Northern Lights. Presumably this happens to people who live where the northern lights can be seen and have some terrible childhood memory of thinking the lights indicated the sky was falling or something. So the minute they were old enough they fled to more southern areas of the globe and now tell everyone they meet of their terrible phobia and how it nearly ruined their life. Or maybe people simply develop the fear spontaneously never having seen the Northern Lights ...Which poses its own set of problems.

How about barophobia? That's fear of gravity - no I didn't make that up. Where are these people? How do they survive from day to day?

Then there is something that some of you might actually relate to which is syngenesophobia; the fear of relatives. Thinking of setting your book around Christmas time? What a perfect phobia for someone to have. The hilarious scenarios write themselves.

Now here's a good one - xanthophobia which is the fear of the colour yellow or the word yellow. Throw in a scene featuring a beloved childhood big bird toy along with a disastrous visit to a paint shop. Or else an unsuspecting partner suggesting Yellow as a safe word? Pizza and Movie night? Just remember nothing with Minions in it. It is probably also a good idea to hide that Minions onesie.

Then there is plutophobia; a fear of wealth which would be an interesting one. At least you could actually introduce a character happy in a low paying job they love. There’s a character you could do something with. His plutophobia might mean he is constantly giving away his possessions much to the disgust of his other half ... If he has one.

Now how do you make someone housebound? Perhaps you need a device in order for them to require someone else to do all the leg work but agoraphobia is too obvious? Simply give them a fear of walking or ambulophobia. This could work too if you have an ongoing theme of delivery drivers you want to introduce into the story.

You could try for irony and have an archaeologist as a protagonist who tragically suffers from atephobia - fear of ruin or ruins. Or a farmer with alektorophobia - which is a fear of chickens. What about a lighthouse keeper with climacophobia - fear of stairs, climbing, or of falling downstairs? Then again it would be easy to slip in a character who suffers from epistemophobia - fear of knowledge as I believe many people in the world seem to suffer from that ... Alas.

Not quite sure how you could write this one in - euphobia which is a fear of hearing good news but it should be easy to have someone with ergophobia or a fear of work - especially if you fancy writing a few good arguments.

Let's face it - you name it and someone somewhere has a phobia of it. Fear of wind, flowers, and garden gnomes to name just another 3. All manner of things send otherwise ordinary people into a spin. All writers need to make their characters interesting. They need to have flaws or eccentricities, face challenges and even have severe emotional conditions in some cases. So why not throw in an unusual phobia? At the very least it will give your agent or editor a good laugh. 

Why do we listen to Celebrities?

I recently posted a Facebook post before stopping to think about it. I blame all the meds I'm taking for my asthma and hay fever...

Seriously though I had a go at Jamie Oliver after reading a click bait headline saying he was declaring a war on sugar. Now what got me incensed was that I am sick and tired of seeing him everywhere. He has sold out in my opinion. He will put his face on anything including products containing sugar.

A few of my friends disagreed with my rant because they thought I was against the actual message. I realise that in my angry haste I worded my point badly and was misunderstood ( a lesson for us all! - write post, re-read post, think - then delete as appropriate!) I'm not against the actual message. Whilst I hate it when people declare war on anything let alone one particular type of food I of course believe we all should learn about sugar and what it does. We should aim for a balanced diet and learn about hidden sugars in processed food etc.

But the more I think about it the more it bothers me that people who become famous because they are talented at something think that qualifies them to tell people how to live their lives.

What we eat, what we buy, what we even think about certain things all seems to be heavily linked with the celebrity obsession our society has. Companies spend millions of dollars on celebrity endorsements because people are more likely to buy something that is endorsed by a celebrity.

Why though? You pay an actress to be in an ad for hair dye or make up. Do you really think she uses that product? She dyes her hair at home? Chances are she isn't using cover girl make-up either. So why do we think these products are automatically better? 

The same goes for the celebrity chef. Curtis Stone doesn't use those pans his name is on you can buy at Target. Putting his name and face on it just means you are being suckered into paying more for a pan that is identical to the one next to it because it has his face and name on it.

There is of course a very strong psychological force here. People are led to believe if they buy and use the products then that some way brings a tiny bit of celebrity into their lives. 

Though that in itself is worrying. Why do we give these people so much kudos? Why should I be happy that my son will hear it from Jamie Oliver that he should limit sugar? Because if I teach him to listen to a celebrity about that then I'm teaching him a celebrity knows best.

Why don't we listen to scientists, nutritionists and read up on topics for ourselves rather than take on board what a celebrity says?  How do we know when a celebrity genuinely believes something and when they are being paid to sell us things? 

So basically I am fed up with celebrity culture. I don't get it. I don't understand it. I don't see why I should pick a product off the shelf because of a photo shopped picture of a celebrity trying to tell me how good it is. It's getting harder to find products that are not endorsed by someone famous though. This is how bad things have gotten.

So yes I will teach my son about the dangers of too much sugar but not because Jamie Oliver wants his face in the paper again. I will teach him that because of facts.

It is time we all remembered that celebrities are people. I am all for admiring someone for their talent. But when it's come to a point that celebrities are the go to for our life choices then I think we have taken it too far. 

Your Vagina is ok, mine is ok, it's all ok!

The rise of the Internet has meant we have access to so much more information than we used to. If you have an opinion, an issue, a question or a problem the answer might simply be available after typing in a sentence. There are forums and Facebook pages dedicated to many things including being or becoming a parent.

It's posts from those type of sites I want to talk about today. I have seen quite a few times women asking in all seriousness about how other women overcome any embarrassment about their bodies when they are due to give birth. It seems hang ups about our bodies go so far that it interferes even with the wonder of the miracle of life. Women are scared of people seeing them 'down there' as they wonder if they look different or somehow 'abnormal' Will nurses stare or laugh behind their hands?

I don't mean to make light as in our society nakedness really still does have a huge stigma. Women do worry about what they look like naked, especially those parts not normally on display, even in a revealing swimsuit. Now before the Internet I honestly didn't even know some women worried about the size of their labia. But they do. They wonder whether parts are too dark or too big or too small.

It seems before you could be an anonymous person at a computer keyboard most women wouldn't  ask anyone these questions for fear of embarrassment. Well I'm not here to try to get you to love your body as it is ( though I think that is important) but rather to tell you that there is no normal. No matter what you look like between your legs the doctors, nurses etc have seen it all and truly will not give a shit what you look like down there.

Not convinced? Well I feel somewhat knowledgable enough to tell you a few things. Long ago I totally lost any self consciousness about my body when it comes to medial professionals. I have had a few procedures, been in the emergency room a few times and seen many different types of doctors for various things. I have a chronic illness which has manifested differently over the years so there have been many visits to medical practitioners.

Now I can't remember the first time I was completely happy to strip off and not even think about it. Though  I remember some reactions once I was. Some doctors are obviously used to women being nervous so they gently ask me if I could pull up or down a sleeve when what they really need is for me to take my top off. So I simply offer to do so. Most look relieved, others looked a bit shocked.... Obviously I'm one of a kind there. 

If a doctor wants to see my chest then that's fine, he has seen plenty of others. He doesn't give a shit what my boobs look like. I've had numerous Pap smears. I tend to just chat during them now. Once a male doctor asked if I would rather a female doctor to do it. It really didn't bother me. I almost asked him how many vagina's he had seen. I didn't but I imagine the number would be in the 100's.

Those hospital gowns which are open at the back. They are like that for easy access. A doctor has to examine my tummy then he gets to see my undies. All I hope is that my undies are pretty. I care little that he might catch a glimpse of inner thigh or outer thigh. At the osteopath they give you those gowns then you lie face down and when they need to work on your lower back they pull your undies down anyway. So I truly don't see why I don't just take them off. While the Osteo prods my naked buttocks I'm happy to talk about the weather or ask about the music playing. Again I  imagine my buttocks are not the worst things they have ever seen. 

I once had a procedure done under anaesthetic and when I woke up I was fully clothed. So either I was so out of it I didn't remember getting myself dressed, and given I was still shaky on my feet at this point I doubt it. Or else someone dressed me while I was unconscious. For a brief moment I pondered what that must have been like for the person involved then I mentally shrugged and picked up the magazine beside the bed and had a read.  

But of course none of this relates to childbirth but I've left that story for last since it is the best. Once you have been pregnant and had a child any sense of modesty pretty much goes out the window. Truly...no matter how self conscious you were beforehand. 

I remember how quickly any small bit of modesty I may have had completely evaporated from the moment I went to the hospital to have my son induced. A few different midwives got to poke around my nether regions and insert things. One got me in the shower when the horrendous contractions started. Even after I had the hospital gown on and was on the bed hooked up to the monitor and mostly keeping my legs together things didn't stay that way for long.

So I was waiting for an epidural... Because you know... Horrendous pain. Then suddenly this Greek God appears in the room. One of the most handsome looking men I had ever seen in my life had come to rescue me to carry me off in his chariot away from this hell I was in. Well at least that's what I thought in my strange pain daze. I did wonder if I was hallucinating. Why is this Man here? Then he is introduced as the anaesthetist. So good news... Pain will soon go away, of course the fact that this amazing specimen was here to simply insert a large needle into my spine was not really akin to being whisked off in a chariot... But oh well.

So after he had done the business so to speak he stayed for a while to do the paperwork. The room I was in was set up in an interesting way. About two metres from the foot of my bed was the desk with the chair behind it, facing me. At this point since I would soon feel very little from the waist down (thank goodness!) so the midwife decides to insert a catheter. That's right. I have to spread them again and allow someone else to tinker away all while this amazing specimen of man is sitting directly in front of me. If he were to look up from his paperwork his gaze would hit firmly on my vagina. I tried to sneak peeks around the midwife to see if he did look up but I didn't notice if he did. I imagine it's because he truly was not fazed by a woman's vagina being clearly visibly and in his direct line of sight. I have to accept he's seen it all before.

He soon got up and left, presumably to go and rescue another damsel in distress. I think I managed a thank you and he may have waved his acknowledgement as he left but he was otherwise completely non plussed. Two things occurred in my haze...one was imagine a story where a sexy anaesthetist falls madly in love with a woman he has just given an epidural to? That's a story to write in the future ( I never did.) The second thought was that I wanted to kiss him when the epidural kicked in and the pain stopped. I recalled an old episode of ER when a character, after being given an epidural says something along the lines of "I'm in love with the epidural man." The doctor with her says 'we call him an anaesthetist." And she replies in a honey smooth ( now pain free) voice 'To me he will always be the epidural man.' That's how I felt.

You know what occurred to me third.... Eventually. The fact that he and many other people had just seen my vagina in all its glory whilst having a catheter inserted. It was no big deal because no one made it a big deal. These people do this stuff all the time. 

So you know what. We are all normal. The people who are going to prod around down there will barely notice what your particular area looks like. Unless a part of your anatomy causes you physical pain or discomfort then there is no reason to nervously ask a doctor, or the woman who waxes you whether you are 'normal.'

So try and drop the fears about the whole naked thing. When it comes to it it really truly won't matter. Maybe one day you will even be like me and ready to strip for any doctor or practitioner without a second thought. I fear one of these days I will forget myself and strip from the waist up at the dentist... Give them all something to talk about I suppose!

I know it's hard for some as we are bought up to believe that being naked is somehow shameful. As women we don't tend to compare vaginas or labia or anything else between our legs. I'm not saying it is something we should start doing... Having vagina comparing parties... But just lose the hang ups. There are so many different kinds of normal. Most people will not care what it looks like down there so long as it's clean and functional... That goes for men too by the way...but that's a different blog post...

A top writing tip that could lead to an hilarious scenario

I recently read one of those ten tips pieces written by someone who presumably has been there and done that and knows ways to make life more productive. One tip made sense but also made me laugh at the potential consequences.

That tip was to go on strike when you write. That means you do nothing else. No cooking, no fetching, no washing, no playing uno with the kids, nothing. So basically you sit and write and tell everyone to look after themselves.

I can't help but imagine what would occur in some households if this were to happen. The poor cat would feel starved and neglected so basically sit on your head while you try to write and dig their claws in. If you lock them out of the room the relentless scratching at the door will drive you mad and you may also need to drive to Bunnings for things to repair the door.

You would have kids helping themselves to biscuits and cereal and spreading it all over the house. Every light in the house would be on and every TV on and at full volume. Piles of dirty washing would make a trail though the house that may or may not lead to the laundry.

Plus I'm assuming the writing can be left for brief moments? So you would have to tip toe past the mess and kids and crazy cat to go to the loo. Coffee making? Surely you couldn't go on strike to the point you couldn't operate the coffee machine? That wouldn't be right. So you block out all the requests for food and pleading for help with craft projects and getting past the boss level on a game to use the coffee machine. Only no milk, or sugar or coffee... So who will pop to the shop while you are on strike? 

In all seriousness though it could be a good idea if used with obvious limits that don't allow for colourful scenarios as above (which is of course what the writer intended). You could take chunks out of certain days, have coffee and biscuits by your side and 'go on strike' for a few hours. It would not be nearly as hilarious though.

It's funny but I already do that only its when the Wests Tigers are playing. I go on strike for the full 80 minutes. At half-time I will listen to non rugby league related items briefly if necessary and put the kettle on or pour wine. Otherwise unless it's life threatening it must wait till Full-time. Maybe it is time I tried that with my writing too?

What useful time management tips do you use? Or alternatively what are some silly ones you've heard?  

    

              The owner of this house was a writer that went on strike 

               ( statement may be untrue ...)