Thank you, Lemmy, for the soundtrack of my life

This week's post is not, for once, about you-know-what. In fact, I'm not even going to mention it in passing.

Rather, my subject is my lifelong love of rock music; in particular, the loud, fast, aggressive form of rock known as heavy metal. It began in my early teens, when I discovered there was a great deal more to West Midlands favourites Slade than that Christmas song and I began exploring the back catalogue of such bands as Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath.

By the time I was ready for sixth form, I was regularly going to rock gigs at the old Birmingham Odeon and had a record collection which took up much of two cabinets in the living room of our house.

It was then that I first came into contact with Motorhead, through their 1979 album 'Bomber'. As loud, fast, aggressive as they come and thoroughly hated by my parents, it was the epitome of heavy metal.

But it was outdone by the 1980 album 'Ace of Spades', still one of the finest metal albums ever made, in my view. And even that was outclassed by the 1981 live production, 'No Sleep 'Til Hammersmith'. I remember a magazine review at the time saying that 'No Sleep..' was heavy metal at its finest. Thirty-five years later, I still don't think there has been a better example of the genre.

All this, of course, is by way of acknowledgement of the death this week at the age of 70 of Motorhead's frontman and bass player, Lemmy. Tales of his off-stage exploits are, of course, legendary; of how his prodigious capacity for drugs and alcohol meant he should have been dead years ago.

But I'm not interested in that here. I'm interested in how he and his band sold millions of records by almost single-handedly creating a style which you either loved or hated. No-one sang like Lemmy; no-one played bass guitar like Lemmy; bands which today are considered rock legends in their own right, such as Metallica, Megadeth and Slayer acknowledge that they were inspired by Lemmy and Motorhead.

He once said "If I died tomorrow, I couldn't complain. It's been good." Which is a pretty good way to look at life and one which plenty of survivors of that thing I'm not mentioning this week might aspire to as they survey their life.

In the official announcement of his death, his band-mates urged fans to play his music LOUD in his memory. I have and I will continue to do so. And I'll remember all the good memories that music brought me over the years.

Seek out 'No Sleep 'Til Hammersmith.' You might love it, you might hate it, but you certainly can't ignore it. And we all want to be remembered in some way when we're gone, don't we?

A year to look forward to

Marking last week's second anniversary of my stroke caused me to overlook the fact that it was also the first birthday of this blog.

If you've been with me all through that time, you'll know that The Warrior was born as a means of helping me mark my first strokeversary and as a way to get my message about stroke education across to more people.

It's certainly done that. As of today (December 23 2015) this blog has had 5,901 page views; not an enormous number and certainly nowhere near enough for me to make any money out of blogging, but proof that plenty of people are interested enough in my story to seek me out.

As with every writer, I do enjoy knowing that people read my stuff, but that's been part of me ever since I got my first byline in the Tamworth Herald in March 1986.

In 2016, you'll also be able to see me. I'm putting to good use knowledge gleaned from those who know far more about the technical side of social media than I do and although I keep coming up against stumbling blocks (partly of my own making, I must admit), I will be on video through Periscope and YouTube in the new year. After all, every other journalist I know seems to have to do videos of their stories these days.

I am also keen to become involved in a new support group for stroke-survivors and their carers which a friend of mine is hoping to get off the ground. I cannot say too much, but anyone who knows The Warrior will know that improving the quantity and quality of support and help for those who have to live with and deal with us strokies on a daily basis is one of my passions.

Plenty to look forward to in 2016, then. But, of course, my mantra is that there is plenty to look forward to in every day if only you go and look for it. That's especially true tomorrow, Christmas Eve. There's whiskey to drink to celebrate Mrs Warrior's mother's birthday. And I've still got Christmas presents to buy.

Strokeversary thoughts

How should one mark the anniversary of an event which nearly killed you and in any event, changed your life irrevocably?

Unsurprisingly, it's a question which stroke-survivors ask ourselves and our fellow strokies a lot. Do we mourn for the life we lost on that day and the old version of us which went with it? Or do we celebrate the fact that we survived to tell the tale and enjoy all the things we have done with our 'new' lives since then?

Do we continue treating each new day as a blessing, 24 hours to be enjoyed and appreciated as much as we can? Do we look back in anger and ask 'why me?' Or do we, like Oasis, decide not to take that path and instead ask "Why not me, I'm no different to anyone else'?

Of course, there's a reason for all this philosophical musing. Today, Wednesday December 16 2015, is the second anniversary of the afternoon when, as I've said a million times since, I suffered a stroke while crossing a busy road near my home in Tamworth, collapsed and was nearly run over by a 47-seater bus.

I pass the scene of the crime almost every day, so I long since stopped suffering from flashbacks about it, which I know trouble many strokies. But it's inevitable that this day will cause me to stop and think. What was I doing? Where had I been? Did I have any warning? (Answer - no). Is there anything I would have done differently? (Answer - no. There are two routes I could have taken from Tamworth railway station to Warrillow Towers and taking the other route would only have seen me collapse on a busier road).

And the next few weeks will, I'm sure, be full of memories. Being rushed to hospital. Spending four weeks there over Christmas and New Year. Being paralysed for a while. Starting the painful process of re-learning how to walk and talk and write and generally survive. Being thrown into the world of the disabled person. All the inevitable questions about my future (many of which are still unresolved two years later).

It's been an extraordinary journey; it still is and I don't see it stopping any time soon. One full of ups and downs, one which is unpredictable from one day to the next. I wish I wasn't facing up to the prospect of never doing full-time work again - I'm far too young for that. I wish being a strokie didn't sometimes seem to define my life. I wish I could walk properly. I wish I wasn't brain-damaged. I wish I didn't have to take blood-thinners, watch my alcohol intake, be on a seemingly never-ending treadmill of medical appointments. I sometimes wish people didn't ask me "How are you" and mean it. I'm fine, by the way. I got up this morning and I'm breathing; that'll do.

But I'm grateful that I wake up every morning to face another day. I'm grateful for all the new experiences I've had, for all the wonderful people I've met and continue to meet, both virtually and in real life; I'm grateful for whatever put me on the long road to trying to qualify as a counsellor, I'm grateful, as so many strokies say, for a second chance at life.

So I won't be miserable today; I won't mourn my old life. Yes, I'll think about the events of December 16 2013 and immediately after but I've moved on to my new life. I might even take the advice of one of my best strokie friends who said the best way to mark the day was 'get a few bottles of cheap wine and just get p***ed' (as much as I'm allowed to, given my tablets and my streaming cold).

But, like Oasis, I definitely don't see the point of looking back in anger. It's happened, there's nothing I can do about it, I just have to get on with whatever life throws at me. And Warriors tend to be pretty good at that.

So what do you know about your brain?

What do you have stuck to the side of your fridge? A calendar? A parish newsletter? A fridge magnet or six? I've got all of the above but perhaps the most important thing is a factsheet produced by Headway, the brain injury association.

It's six pages of facts you probably didn't know about that thing which sits inside your skull and controls the various different parts of our daily lives.

For instance, the brain weighs about 3lb or just under 1.5kg. It's made up of around 100 billion nerve cells and even more support cells which nourish the nerve cells. And if those two facts don't make you think, did you know that the brain has the texture of a blancmange? (I hate blancmange, lol...).

When the brain is damaged in any way, by a stroke or some other form of traumatic head injury, the effect is similar to that of vigorously shaking a plate of blancmange; it shears and tears, disrupting the pathways of communication between those billions of cells. That's possibly why I've heard people say that having a stroke is like having a nuclear bomb go off in your head; it is not unlike the effect a nuclear bomb would have if it were to go off on dry land (and in my case, that's exactly what it felt like).

Obviously, this can be devastating; it's why some stroke-survivors lose the ability to walk, speak, write, read, see......It's also why recovery can take so long. All of those billions of cells can eventually reconfigure themselves but it can take years; someone once described it to me as like trying to get to London from the West Midlands but the M1 is shut; you have to go down the A5 and you haven't used the A5 for 50 years, so you have to look at every road sign, check your map, reconfigure your satnav and it all takes ten times as long.

Consequently, some recoveries are quicker than others. Just a week short of my second anniversary, I probably look as if I've recovered more or less completely from a physical standpoint. My brain, that 3lb lump of blancmange inside my skull, will tell you otherwise. I've been reading the latest report from my consultant about some tests I had done on my brain a couple of months ago. Obviously, a fair amount of it is written in complex medical language, but I'm smart enough to be able to understand phrases such as 'likely permanent deficit."

But a lot of stroke-survivors don't accept the medical view that once you've reached a certain level of recovery, that's it. We believe that with constant mental and physical stimulation, we can keep recovering. I know people who are 18 years post-stroke and still think they are getting better, that those billions of cells are reconfiguring themselves.

For me, there is no other way to think (even when Emily is being brutal with me, lol). Otherwise, I might just as well sit in a chair and fester for however long the medical profession thinks I'll live. It's hard at times, I do let myself down at times (don't I, Emily?) but I didn't get that Warrior tattoo for nothing; and if I'm going to have to live with that image of a blancmange inside my skull for the rest of my life, I might as well be trying to put that broken blancmange back together.  

Supermarket stress

I had a message this week from a fellow-strokie who told me that last week's blog made her laugh out loud. In a good way, obviously. 

Well, it's certainly my intention to cheer people up with what I write, but that's the first time in nearly a year that I've had a reader say that. I'm not quite sure what she'll make of this week's effort. 

I've mentioned previously about the mood-swings which can afflict stroke-survivors; and I've often commented on how we don't cope well with stress. In my own case, if I get too stressed, I get thunderous headaches and a feeling that the top of my head is going to explode. 

Come with me, then, to Monday morning this week and my local branch of a well-known German discount supermarket. For reasons I won't trouble you with, we weren't able to do the weekly shop on Saturday or Sunday so I ventured out on my own to start the week (No, don't suggest online shopping......)

I was there by 8.30am because busy places trouble me (another effect of strokie-dom) and was doing pretty well until I got to within five yards of the till area - at which point I realised I'd come out without any money or any other means of paying. We all do it, of course - I once had to wait on a petrol-station forecourt while Mrs W ran home to get some cash to pay for £40 of unleaded - but strokies worry more than others about such things. 

Happily, because Warrillow Towers is only over the road and most of the staff know me, I was able to  park the trolley somewhere safe inside the store, 'sprint' home (OK, I don't sprint...) collect my debit card and pay for the goods. 

At which point, I thought my stress was over. Until I got to the car, loaded the bags in the boot, got in the driver's seat, switched on the engine, put the car into reverse and moved two inches backwards. At which point I heard a loud banging noise behind me. 

Now having just gone through a difficult and expensive insurance claim after a disagreement with a bollard in a hospital car park, noises like that worry me. So I looked round and saw an elderly gentleman banging fiercely on the boot of my car. I recognised him from earlier; I'd seen him in the store getting into arguments with other customers and demanding that the staff get out of the way of his wife, who was using two walking sticks. I'd describe him as one of those people who thinks his wife is the only disabled person on the planet and that the world revolves around her. 

I wound down the window and, trying to keep my cool, asked him to stop banging and pointed out that it wasn't terribly safe to walk two inches behind a reversing car if you have trouble walking. He replied rather fiercely, wondering again if I knew that his wife was on sticks and couldn't walk too quickly. At which point, I'm afraid I lost it. 

I shouted that I'd seen him being argumentative in the store, that I was also disabled, that I had a Blue Badge and was entitled to it and that if he continued like that, he was asking for trouble. I'm afraid I might have sworn under my breath. He certainly swore under his. 

Now I wasn't going to have a physical argument with two elderly disabled people in a supermarket car park, so I floored the accelerator and left the scene. But the incident troubled me all day. I'd done nothing wrong; yet had I over-reacted? I had one of those thunderous headaches all morning and couldn't concentrate on some college work. I was so tired that I fell asleep for an hour in the afternoon. 

It wasn't a nice incident and it's worried me all week. I shall certainly avoid him in future. And it shows how fragile a strokie's emotions can be. Previously, I'd have shrugged it off. Now, I'm finding that difficult. 

Comments, anyone? 

Sometimes even warriors need help to re-discover that positive charge

Positive mental attitude is something I talk about a lot in terms of stroke rehabilitation: if you don't believe you'll improve and keep improving, then you won't. If you do, you will. And if you don't do something about it, you certainly won't.

And part of the thinking behind calling this blog 'The Warrior' was to reflect that desire for positive mental attitude. Warriors don't stop fighting, do they?

This week, however, I've struggled to live up to my own words. Domestic life has been stressful for various reasons and some home-improvement work has massively disrupted the normal daily schedule of life at Warrillow Towers.

The first really cold spell of the winter hasn't helped; warriors aren't supposed to sit inside their castles with thick thermal gloves on and wearing two jumpers because they are freezing cold. But being outside in the cold, wind and rain isn't good for me, my blood-thinning tablets make me feel cold anyway and someone needed to be in the house to supervise the home improvements.

So by Monday evening, this particular warrior was seriously lacking in PMA. But as always, my fellow college students in counselling skills acted as a sounding-board for me to let off steam and a brutal session in the gym on Tuesday with #‎breathebalancebeactivated‬Emily left me realising just how far I have come since December 16 2013; after all, focusing on what you can do, not what you can't do, is the definition of PMA, isn't it? 

Tuesday evening, however, saw another setback. The gym session wore me out more than I had imagined and I let it trouble me; which brought bad thoughts to the fore about our ongoing financial difficulties and my own future in general. I needed a boost and this morning (Wednesday) I got one; well, two, in fact. First, my good friend Mel Eves, who some of you may remember from his previous life as a professional footballer in the 1970's and '80's with Wolverhampton Wanderers, came to visit me at Warrillow Towers. Mel is an expert in sports performance and on the need for elite sportsmen to be 'in the zone' when they are performing. Positive mental attitude is key and if you are interested, I recommend you check out his website at www.wellnesswizard.co.uk. 

An hour with Mel, working on my mental approach to my thoughts and life in general, lifted my mood. Then, I had a visit from a networking friend, Amanda Goldston. To quote a testimonial I read about her recently, Amanda is the ''MAD Woman of MAD Woman Academy helping Magnificent, Awesome, Daring Women to clear away blocks to money." She talks to men, as well, I'm pleased to say and she was visiting to deliver some relaxation tapes which I am hoping can be used to help fellow stroke-survivors. 

But we also began talking about a project for which she volunteers called Walking For Health (walkingforhealth.org.uk). Run by the Ramblers and Macmillan Cancer Support, it provides thousands of walks of varying degrees of difficulty to help people improve their health. There are several free walks (the magic word there is free, lol....) within a few miles of Warrillow Towers and I may well try one soon. When and if, I do, you can be sure I'll blog about it. And I go into the next seven days with a much more positive attitude. 

An unexpected start to my day

Like too many of us these days, the first thing I do when I come downstairs in the morning is check my phone; text messages, emails, Facebook, the ESPN Sportscenter website (don't ask....).

Only when that is done do I open the curtains, feed the cat and the dog and do all my other early-morning tasks.

Often, the only thing of importance is another rude email from the bank or a message from one of my strokie friends on the west coast of the USA. On Friday, however, one message really shook me out of half-sleep.

It was from a (necessarily anonymous) friend who said that two people very close to her had been forced to deal with stroke in the last couple of weeks. One involved someone suffering a fatal stroke, another person had been left paralysed down their left side (as I was, of course).

My friend was seeking advice, help, details of support groups and so on; it's a scenario I come across all too often. Stroke hits completely unexpectedly and often, the person involved, their family and friends haven't a clue where to turn.

The NHS does its best with limited resources but their focus is on the person who has had the stroke, not their family and friends. Yet these people also find their lives turned upside down in an instant. They may have to give up work/reduce their hours to care for someone, so finance becomes a major issue; they almost certainly don't know where to go for help and advice; they don't know what is going to happen in the long term; they probably don't know what caused the stroke; they don't know what the after-effects (which can be many and varied - every single stroke is different) will be. The stress is enormous. And the one thing survivors are supposed to avoid is stress.

They need someone to talk to and stroke-support groups for carers and survivors are crucial. So often, I come across people who ask if this or that symptom is normal post-stroke - whether it's depression, mood-swings, sensitivity to noise, forgetfulness, fatigue or any one of plenty more. Too many people aren't told what will happen, when it will happen, whether the survivor will get better and how quickly and so on.

Joining support groups or just talking to survivors and carers is an important part of the rehabilitation process. Yet funding for groups like this is, unsurprisingly, not easy to find. Which is why blogs like this and the work so many survivors and carers do in educating others are so important.

I love writing this blog every Wednesday. I'd do it even if no-one was reading it. But messages like that I received on Friday make me realise why I do it.

Camera-shy? Me? No, of course not.....

At a networking meeting I attended this morning, someone said that most people's biggest phobia surrounds having to speak in public (Obviously, the speaker, who is a life coach, wasn't one of them.)

Public speaking, either to an audience, into a microphone or into a TV camera, has never bothered me. I was sports editor of the student radio station at Loughborough University in the mid-80s, I've done countless presentations to business networking meetings and since my stroke, I've appeared on radio and TV talking about my experience.

I've even done presentations in the nude to entirely naked audiences at naturist events. After all, they do say one of the best ways to combat public-speaking phobia (is there a word for it?) is to imagine that the audience is nude.

Consequently, when I get the chance to educate an audience anywhere about stroke, I generally take it. I was contacted recently by Megan Trowell, production co-ordinator for a new project from the Stroke Association called "My Stroke Guide.' It's intended as (I quote...) "a digital self-management tool to support people in their recovery following a stroke."

Available on mainstream digital platforms, it will feature information on how to deal with the effects of stroke, advice and signposting on key issues that people face after stroke, goal-setting tools and graphs for individuals, memory and concentration games, peer-to-peer support, online forums and an extensive video library.

Megan wanted me to tell my story for six of those videos, each dealing with some of the problems that all strokies face and how I have managed (or failed) to deal with them. 

Megan and her camerawoman Rochielle spent five hours on Wednesday this week at Warrillow Towers, filming me telling my story and relating my experiences over issues such as headaches, vision problems, fatigue, irritability and the like.

It all went superbly (I think) and I am looking forward to seeing the results. At the moment, because the site is so new, stroke survivors who are interested in the project will get a log-in and an introduction to the site from a member of staff at the Stroke Association who will support them to use it. Therefore, MSG is currently only available to people living within an area where there is a Stroke Association service supported by the local health board or authority and/or the NHS via a contract.

Obviously, the eventual aim is for all stroke survivors to be able to use it but, as always, money will probably be the issue. If and when I hear more, I'll blog about it here.

I must also give my usual quick shout-out to the amazing Emily Smedley. You may recall that last week's session saw me failing dismally to climb on to a platform using my stroke-affected left foot first, then trying and failing to hang a few inches off the ground and being defeated by my poorly left shoulder.

Well, things were a little better this week. I still didn't manage the platform, but I felt slightly more confident in doing both that and trying to hang, while we did plenty of work on my affected visual field; I tried (sometimes successfully!!) to catch a ball and a falling pole using only my left hand.

Throughout it all, I kept thinking (as I have often said here) "no such word as can't" and I will get there, even if it takes a while.

PS - I am indebted to Tarnya Brink, who read this post and has now educated me with the knowledge that the fear of public speaking is called glossophobia.

The Warrior being filmed this week 

Why I'll never be a left-winger - not yet, anyway

It's often said by stroke-survivors that coming out on the other side of something so life-threatening gives you a new perspective on life.

Because no stroke results in the same after-effects, we all deal with that in different ways. Some of us have severe speech problems, some are left dragging their affected side around 'like a sack of spuds' in the evocative phrase used by a close friend of mine, others such as myself have balance and memory issues, others lose large parts of their vision, some are intensely depressed by what has happened.

The various issues are caused by whichever part of the brain is affected (Google it....) and I consider myself somewhat fortunate to have got away relatively lightly. Since that fateful day in December 2013, I've been able to re-learn how to use my left side, I threw away my sticks in July of this year,  I took part in a sponsored run last month, I'm training to be a counsellor, I've done plenty I wouldn't have dreamed of doing when I was a journalist.

This week delivered another first. Unsurprisingly, it involved physiotherapist Emily Smedley of breathebalancebeactivated. Since I successfully completed my 5km 'run' at the end of September, the focus of my work with Emily has changed. No longer do I lie on the couch for an hour, periodically screaming and howling in agony as she pokes, prods and pushes. For the last three weeks, we have spent time in the gym, with Emily teaching me the basics of boxing.

It's not just a matter of standing there and flinging punches, although it does help to get out some of my aggression and frustration; rather, my feet have to be in the right place and as we're practicing without gloves, my hands have to be positioned properly. Apparently, it's surprisingly easy to break a finger if you don't do it properly.

I've also been dragged backwards around the gym with an extendable band around my waist (it improves balance, apparently) but this week's efforts hit new heights - or tried to.

Emily was only asking me to step up on to a platform which was about a foot off the floor - but to do it using my affected left foot first. And it absolutely wouldn't go.

I could get up there by resting my hands on the platform, I could easily do it right foot first. But my left foot simply wouldn't play ball. It's a mental block, apparently. We'll be working on it.

We'll also be working on making me hang in the air with my hands gripping a high horizontal iron frame, with my feet off the floor. At my first attempt, my left shoulder wasn't having any of it; not only is that shoulder on my affected side, I've had problems with it previously.

Again, it's a mental issue; I did manage to do both these things after a fashion but not to my satisfaction; especially not when I watched Emily climbing over the gym equipment like Spiderwoman.

But I'll keep going; using the principle that 'there's no such word as can't' I will manage it and it will be another goal achieved, won't it?

And anyway.....she won't let me focus what I can't do, only on what I can do. Which is a pretty good mantra for stroke-survivors and disabled people everywhere.

My biggest scare since you-know-when

Is there anything worse than someone who is near-evangelical with health and lifestyle advice on the back of something which happened to them, then goes and completely ignores that advice?

Probably not. With my hard-nosed journalist's hat on, I could call it hypocritical. As the person involved is me, let's just call it stupid.

My stroke taught me many things, but key among them were the importance of eating properly, reducing stress, not rushing around trying to do a million things at once, resting properly - all the things I talk about regularly.

One day this week, I stupidly ignored all that advice and came dangerously close to collapsing (why do I hate that word?) while out walking the dog in Tamworth's Castle Grounds.

I should have known at lunchtime that something wasn't right. It took too long to write my blog (were the lounge of Warrillow Towers an old newspaper office, the floor would have been awash with torn-up sheets of copy paper....), so I was rushing to have lunch before my 2pm appointment with my counsellor.

Lunch was supposed to be a jacket potato with a decent filling, but in my haste, I misread the time and when I got it out of the oven, it was still half-cold. So I put it back in the oven for the required time, then ended up rushing to eat it and leave the kitchen in a decent state before going out.

Unsurprisingly, I then went and vented at my counsellor for an hour, getting out all my frustrations and barely giving her space to speak; it needed doing, but in hindsight, it was just getting me more wound up. I came home just in time to feed the dog and cat, grabbed ten minutes in front of the TV, then decided to take the dog for a walk. Is it any wonder that, as a fellow strokie put it this week about her own bad day, I felt light-headed and wobbly on my pins?

No, probably not.....

The dog and I have a regular route through Tamworth's idyllic Castle Grounds for our daily walks; he probably knows the way better than I do. About halfway through our walk, there is a bridge across the river; a left-turn takes us past the wonderful flower-beds by the Castle and through the Town Centre; a right-turn takes us home.

Normally,  we turn left but I knew that if I didn't get home ASAP, I was likely to collapse (there's that word again) and leave the dog unattended. He has our address on his collar and could probably make his own way home without me from where we were, but I'd rather not let him try, thanks.

As we stood (sort of, in my case) waiting to cross the ridiculously busy road opposite Warrillow Towers, I knew I had to get home quickly, get some food and sit down before I blacked out. My legs were shaking, my head was woozy; this was worse than on that day in December 2013. On that occasion, I had no warning whatsoever about what was coming.

We just made it home as Mrs W was walking through the front door, having got home from the railway station. She sat me down, ordered me to have two large glasses of water and a couple of bananas and get some rest.

I barely got out of the chair for the rest of the evening and was in bed by 10pm. At my networking breakfast the following morning, plenty of people asked how I was 'after my wobble." I was OK, but I really could say I was glad to wake up breathing after what felt like a lot more than just a scare. It was proof that I should listen myself to the advice I give other people.

I've been conscious of that all week; I've eaten properly at breakfast and lunchtime, I've even gone to sleep in the afternoon to benefit from the restorative properties of the power-nap.

I've frightened myself this week. And I can assure you I won't be doing it again any time soon.

Getting back on the networking horse

Regular readers will know that I'm a keen business networker, mostly as a member of 4Networking. Among other things, it raises my profile and the profile of the work I do in stroke support and education. Having been on the leadership teams of local 4N groups for three years, I've had to rein in my networking to a fair degree over the last few months because of my health issues.

But I was asked this week if I would join a new team to run the group in Lichfield, Staffordshire. As I won't be leading the group itself, just helping to run meetings, drum up interest and take admission money (among other things), I've agreed. I get on well with the new group leader, Ben Birchall, who runs an HR consultancy called Progression, so I think the team will work nicely.

The new team starts at the meeting on Thursday October 29 and I will be doing a talk about my recent run to raise money for stroke-survivor charity Different Strokes. If you're a 4N member, it would be great to see you there. If you're not and you are a business owner yourself, why not come along and find out what 4N's all about (and hear me speak, of course!)? To find out more about how 4N works, go to the website at www.4networking.biz.

Aside from that, which I see as another important step in my post-stroke rehabilitation, it's been another busy, up-and-down, week. On the plus side, I've been talking to a fellow stroke-survivor about possibly liaising on an e-book while I'm grateful to a lady I know in America, whose husband is a strokie, for suggesting that I write and self-publish a short novel. Hopefully, both ideas will be under way shortly.

College on Monday evening was slightly brain-twisting (not a good idea for a strokie, lol) but very rewarding, while Tuesday's session with ‪#‎breathebalancebeactivated‬ Emily was definitely of the 'if it's not hurting, it's not working' variety.

On the down side of the week, I was again reminded several times just how life as a stroke-survivor makes the mundane things in life annoyingly difficult at times. It wasn't that cold at Tamworth FC's Lamb ground on Saturday afternoon for the National League North clash with Solihull Moors, but the fact that my blood-thinning tablets leave me constantly cold made the terraces feel like the North Pole, making it near-impossible to concentrate on the game. Memo to self: Time to ditch the denim hooded jacket in favour of the thick waterproof 'football manager' coat with the 27 pockets and the several layers of warming material......

Then, there was my seemingly un-ending battle with fatigue. On at least three occasions this week, I have had to give up on the day and go to sleep for a couple of hours at downright inconvenient times while on at least two others, failure to do so has left me feeling as washed-out as an old rag.

Indeed, Mrs W and I were out on Tuesday evening with fellow members of a stroke-support group we attend when the former NHS team leader who runs the group told Carmel: "He's too tired, get him home and straight to sleep." And when Dawn tells you something, you stay told, believe me.....

One of these weeks, I will get a handle on the fatigue which plagues all stroke-survivors and as I wrote here last week, threatens my working future. This week, however, wasn't it.

Another week on the strokie roller-coaster

The first thing to say is that I haven't punched or sworn at anyone this week, which might come as a relief to anyone concerned about my welfare after last week's post.

That's not to say that the week has been easy; far from it. I saw my neuropsychologist last Thursday to get the results of the brain tests which were done last month. It's fair to say that they were a mixed bag.

In some areas, the results suggested that my brain has recovered to something like what it was pre-stroke. In others, there has been little or no progress. Some of this is probably due to post-stress fatigue and the catalogue of worries which come with post-stroke life, but some of it is obviously long-term harm.

Over the last 18 months, I've come to know a lot about the idea of neuroplasticity (strokies will understand, the rest of you can Google it, lol) and I would particularly recommend a book called 'The Brain That Changes Itself' by Norman Doidge. I was given it last year by a fellow strokie and found it useful in helping me to understand how the damaged brain finds new neural pathways (again, Google it) to replace those lost or damaged through traumatic injury.

This process takes years, of course. It helps those of us who are determined to be positive because it keeps us looking forward and seeing a half-full glass, but it can't acknowledge how difficult it is to deal with the day-to-day struggles of life while recovery continues.

For instance, those results have made me question where I am going on a long-term basis. Will I ever again be fit enough to work full-time (by which I mean a five-day 40-hour week)? If not, what does a future of part-time work look like at the age of 51? Is it more financially secure than where we are now? If not, what's Plan C? Or Plan D?

The neuropsychologist wants to see us again ASAP to discuss this further. I'm trying to be positive and, as always, just take each day as it comes. But I can understand why plenty of disabled people start to wonder how much more of this they can take. And I have only one thing to deal with - I know far too many who have rather more than one.

Let's lighten the mood, shall we? This week, I broke through the £1,000 barrier in terms of sponsorship received for my recent run in aid of stroke-survivor charity Different Strokes. You can still donate at uk.virginmoneygiving.com/MartinWarrillow. All the proceeds will go to helping DS (differentstrokes.co.uk) maintain the Facebook group which it runs and which has been an invaluable resource for me in terms of getting help, advice and most crucially, support in difficult times.

Given that I didn't have a target in mind when I first decided to do the run, I'm pleased and proud to have generated so much. Thanks to everyone who has sponsored and supported me; if I have helped to raise the profile of DS by one iota, all that pain was worth it.

Many of you will be aware that I have a long-term goal to qualify as a counsellor. For various reasons, my latest course got off to a shaky start but things really picked up this week and I promised a fellow student that I would give it a mention in this week's blog. For obvious reasons, I don't want to go too far but if any fellow students are reading this, they'll know who they are.

Finally, #breathebalancebeactivatedEmily suggested this week that I start to investigate having a proper presence on YouTube, talking about my situation. It's something I've never explored because I felt it was at the edge of my very limited technological ability. I should start now. As much advice as possible would be welcome. Just don't leave me as confused as I'm starting to feel about my financial future.

Pillow talk......no, not like that, lol.

I've remarked previously that I try my best to keep this blog as positive as possible: 'you don't come here to see me moan" and all that......

Unfortunately, this week, that's proving very tough to do. Admittedly, there have been good bits - the email from the Derby Telegraph at 1pm on Thursday, asking if I could go in at 1pm on Friday ("yes, of course"), the good connections made at 4Networking in Lichfield on Thursday morning, the continuing stream of donations for my charity run (go to uk.virginmoneygiving.com/MartinWarrillow, where I'm nearly up to £1,000) but they have been overwhelmed by incidents which have reminded me of the precarious nature of life as a stroke-survivor. 

There was one on Saturday which I will mention but can't, for various reasons, expand on; there was the incident on Sunday afternoon when Mrs W had to order me out of our local branch of a well-known German discount supermarket before I got into a fight with someone; there have been the reminders that while I am unable to work, money will be a constant cause of resentment and argument at Warrillow Towers; there have been the "I'm more tired than you' arguments which all this naturally leads to; there have been the headaches, wobbly walking, fatigue, having to look at new ways of dealing with worry; there have been the fears that although I am back behind the wheel of a car, I could be just a step away from something going horribly wrong (the A5 at 9.30pm in a monsoon when the only traffic seems to be you and a host of foreign-driven 30-tonne articulated lorries is not fun); there have been the reminders that looking after my diet is more important than ever (like most, if not all, journalists, I am too used to eating on the hoof); there have been the "Why me" moments which all strokies have and which I usually tell people they should avoid; the frustrations of the useless British weather which leave me feeling more or less permanently cold and the blood-thinners I have to take which mean I bleed for England. All in all, it's not been my best week.

Thankfully, # breathebalancebeactivatedEmily got hold of me on Tuesday, told me I needed to get some of this anger and frustration out and we started doing some boxing moves. It certainly helped (at least until Emmerdale came on the TV at Warrillow Towers last night, lol) and it's something I'm keen to pursue. She's suggested I find a handy pillow to beat the **** out of when I'm feeling like I have this week. 

Certainly sounds better than beating it out of fellow shoppers, doesn't it?  

A naked run through the woods

The thing about naturist events is that they are often reliant on the weather. And relying on the summer in England to produce a bright sunny day at any time is usually risky; expecting a bright sunny day on Sunday September 27 and getting one is close to miraculous.

But that's what happened for the summer's second 5km nude run at the Naturist Foundation in Orpington, Kent. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the temperature was pleasingly warm as over 100 runners, with a good gender-balance of male and female, stripped off their clothes for a run through the club's 50 acres of lush woodland park.

They were joined by at least 100 more supporters and club members, clothed and naked, who were kept busy as race marshals, timers, recorders and the like or handing out drinks of water along the course.

It could have been any club 5k run - except for all the runners being totally nude apart from running shoes and some of the women wearing sports bras.

I, of course, was one of the runners. Nineteen months on from the stroke which nearly killed me as I collapsed in the road inches away from a 47-seater bus, I was running/walking/staggering/stumbling to raise money for Different Strokes, the charity which helps younger stroke survivors.

Given that I was still walking with the help of sticks until late-July, it may seem somewhat surprising that I was able to take part in a 5k, but my finishing time didn't matter to me. What mattered was taking part and finishing, justifying the faith shown in me by my many sponsors and supporters and my amazing therapist/trainer Emily Smedley, as well as companies such as healthcurrancy.co.uk and  Vivobarefoot UK who have helped my training regime. Strokies often say there is no such word as 'can't' in stroke rehab. I wanted to do this race and prove it.

A naturist race? Well, yes. Anyone who knows me will understand why it had to be naturist but it's all explained on my fundraising page at uk.virginmoneygiving.com/MartinWarrillow. And anyway, having been involved in naturism for over 20 years, I know that naked running is no different to clothed running and possibly easier.

When I arrived just before 11am, most people were already nude, with runners doing warm-ups around the start area or having their race numbers painted in lipstick on their arms and chests.

So I quickly stripped off, registered, got my number and a vital bottle of water and joined the rest of the field on the start line in front of the clubhouse. I managed to stay with the enthusiastic club runners (both male and female) for the first kilometre and to keep running for most of the second; after that, it was determination not to let down my sponsors which spurred me on. Much of the time, I progressed at a fast walk; some of the time, especially on the downhill stretches, I managed to break into a trot.

Many of my fellow runners had already heard why I was competing and there were frequent encouraging shouts as more athletic types went past. It was undoubtedly a boost to see Mrs W helping out at one of the water stations, as well.

I completed the run in just over 48 minutes and have a certificate to prove it. There were only three occasions when I feared I may have to give up; when I twice stumbled on the same set of stone steps built into a grassy bank and when I almost became lost right at the end of the course, unsure of whether to turn left or right at a fork in the path.

But I crossed the finishing line eventually - shattered but elated, greeted by scores of well-wishers and able to reflect on one of the proudest things I've ever done. My left ankle hurt like hell (Emily blames my training shoes, lol) and all I wanted was a chance to sit down and 'rehydrate'.

Later in the afternoon I enjoyed a much-needed swim and sauna (naked, obviously) and related my story to photographer Amelia Allen, who was there to take pictures for a project on 21st-century naturism.

Will I do it again? Definitely. The whole thing has been a tremendous experience. Naturism and naturist events are part of who I am and the fact that I was able to compete and finish means I've achieved another massive goal in my bid to start again after my stroke almost killed me.

At the time of writing, I have raised over £860 in sponsorship. When I signed up I didn't have a target in mind. Now, I'd love to get over the £1,000 mark. My page at uk.virginmoneygiving.com/MartinWarrillow will be open for a while yet if you would like to help.

* There are pictures of me taking part in the event and receiving my certificate. I haven't included them here because my technical ability won't let me crop them to avoid offence to those who might not approve of naturism. I don't have a problem with them, however. I have already posted them to a Facebook naturist group of which I'm a member and some of them will be appearing in a feature about the run in next month's H&E magazine (as will my regular column on naturism and disability in H&E, focusing on the run).

Time for my sponsored run.....

When I lay paralysed in a hospital bed in December 2013, laid low by a stroke which almost killed me when I collapsed in the middle of a busy road, I determined that when/if I got healthy-ish, I would do something to raise money for a stroke-survivor charity.

In the months since then, there have been a number of false starts and my plans have changed in a number of ways. But now the transport is booked, the hotel room for overnight accommodation is booked and at 11.30am on Sunday morning, I will stand on the starting line to do a 5km run (well, I'll run some of it....) to raise money for Different Strokes (differentstrokes.co.uk).

If you've looked at my donation page at http:uk.virginmoneygiving.com/MartinWarrillow, or you know my background, you might be aware that this is no ordinary 5km run. It's the nude run held twice a year by the Naturist Foundation in Orpington, Kent. Yes, I'll be doing this entirely nude (weather permitting). I probably won't even wear running shoes, because most of my training, with the amazing Emily Smedley, has been done barefoot.

This fact hasn't put off my sponsors or Different Strokes (yes, I did ask DS beforehand....) and in fact it might have inspired some of my supporters to dig a little deeper into their wallets. Obviously, decent weather is going to be important but I'm told by the organisers that the forecast for the day is mainly dry and clear. If it isn't, my DS T-shirt might come in handy....

Am I capable of doing this? Well, several months under Emily's tender care has taught me the importance of not over-thinking these things - just go out and do it. Emily keeps telling me that my body is capable, I just have to get my mind to agree. When you consider that I only threw away my walking stick for good two months ago, though, the fact that I'm doing it at all might be considered remarkable.

I do know that the support of fellow athletes on the day will be key and I expect to have a picture in my mind of all the agonising hours spent on Emily's treatment table in preparation for this, as well as the time spent running around the football pitch at Derby College and around the Castle Grounds in Tamworth.

Of course, the aim is to get to the finishing line in whatever way possible and to be able to present the all-important cheque to DS. Any money raised will go to help with the upkeep of their Facebook group, a fabulous group with over 2,000 members which is an invaluable means of support and help for stroke-survivors of all ages.

There will be pictures, although I'm not sure at this stage what form they will take. There will also be a full report at www.askthewarrior.com next week. If you want to donate at http:uk.virginmoneygiving.com/MartinWarrillow, the page won't close until some time after the run, so there is plenty of time.

Looking on the bright side of life

Life as a stroke-survivor can be an emotional and physical roller-coaster. Physically, for instance, I can have two really active days, then find myself unable to raise the energy to move a day later as strokie-fatigue hits. Emotionally, the ups and downs are endless. I worry about money, my health and the future, but then I think "I'm here and alive and I nearly wasn't, so what have I got to moan about?

I try to keep this blog as positive as possible, thinking that you really don't come here to listen to me moan, but I was surprised to get a message on Facebook this week from a stroke-survivor who reads my blog and wanted to know 'how I manage to be so cheerful?'

I replied pointing out that Mrs W didn't buy me a Mr Men 'Mr Grumpy' T-shirt without good reason and noting that my natural grumpiness has got worse post-stroke.

But I also explained that I don't see the need to inflict that on my readers, that writing this blog helps me to focus on the positive and cheers me up and also that I aim to give my readers something to smile about, something which too many stroke-survivors understandably find difficult.

If I have to describe a tough week, I will, but I can't deny that this week has been largely very positive at Warrillow Towers. Last Thursday for example, I returned from my regular Thursday networking breakfast to find an e-mail from the newspaper where I did some shifts last month. Could I come in tomorrow afternoon and help out, they wondered? It took a nano-second to decide my answer. I went in on Friday and did my four hours, at the end of which they asked if I could come in again this Friday?

I don't expect this to be regular work, but I'll take whatever they can give me and if it gets me a foot in the door, it can only be good.

Talking of which, I applied a few weeks ago to be on the approved speakers' list for the West Midlands Federation of Women's Institutes. I see it as somewhere to begin my paid public speaking career (talking about stroke and other things) and again, as a possible foot in the door. And my Thursday got even better when they rang unexpectedly and said that for payment of a small fee, I could join their list. The cheque is in the post to them as I write. I am curious to know how this will work out. When I know, I'll mention it here.

Then on Tuesday, I began the next stage of my counselling-skills training at a local college. It will be tough, undoubtedly tougher than the ten-week introductory course I did earlier this year and I will have to learn to manage my workload and fatigue better. But it's a big step on the road to really discovering the new post-stroke me and it was great to see that a couple of wonderful people from my first class are on the course.

Confidentiality is obviously one of the tenets of good counselling, so I can't say too much but I'm sure I'll be able to keep readers of this blog informed of my progress.

Finally, the day of my sponsored run is getting near. If you haven't already heard, it's on Sunday September 27 at the Naturist Foundation in Orpington, Kent. Full details of the run and how to donate are at http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/MartinWarrillow and I'd be grateful if you'd take a look.

I've been sorting out details of trains and accommodation this week and obviously stepping up my work with Emily Smedley of breathebalancebeactivated.com. Yes, of course it hurts. As I sit here typing, plenty of me aches horribly. But it's got to be done, I ran faster yesterday than I ever have, before or after my stroke and I enjoyed it.

And I promise not to moan about how much I ache.

Being tested in all sorts of different ways

You need glasses for distance and reading, so you have varifocals. You're preparing for a 5km run later this month. So on the basis that the training has to be tougher than the event which you will be doing, your trainer takes you out on a run without your glasses.

It happened to me this week in my latest session with Emily Smedley and believe me, it's an interesting experience. I may have only been running around the perimeter of the football field at Derby College, but the fact that I could hardly see, while the field was full of clover and mushrooms, made it a test of any would-be athlete, never mind a recovering strokie.

I didn't pull a hamstring, I didn't do anything unpleasant to knees or ankles; I could say I'm almost looking forward to next week's session. And I am definitely looking forward to the event itself - it takes place at the Naturist Foundation in Orpington, Kent, on Sunday September 27. You can find more details about the event at http://www.naturistfoundation.org/BH5K_naked_run/ and if you are sufficiently motivated, you can donate to my fund-raising efforts at http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/MartinWarrillow.

Yesterday, I spent much of the day having what's left of my brain tested. These neuropsychological tests were last done just before Christmas 2013 and established that both my ability to retain information and my ability to process it had been severely compromised by the stroke: "From the top 5% to the bottom 5% quicker than Aston Villa' as I put it when I do talks on the subject.

My neuropsychologist expects there to have been improvement since then and this may impact favourably on my ability to do more paid work and take another gentle step on the road to recovery.

The four hours of pen-paper and computer tests is obviously designed to test different parts of the brain. Like Emily's training, it's supposed to be difficult - and it was. I'm no expert so I have to wait until I see the neuropsychologist in a few weeks before I get answers. But while I do have issues with the way in which some areas of the NHS have dealt with me, I have full confidence that my neuropsychologist and his team are doing all they can and doing it in the right way.

I can't close this week without mentioning Tamworth CAMRA Beer Festival, which took place last Thursday-Saturday. In pre-stroke days, I was part of the set-up team but I am now in no fit state to be lugging 72-pint barrels of beer across a room (and occasionally dropping them on my foot...) or jumping up and down behind a bar for hours on end. So now I just sit and savour the wonderful atmosphere and introduce Mrs W to some of the wide and varied range of beers on offer.

I'm lucky in that my stroke and epilepsy medication still allows me to drink, although I have to know my limits. And I'd like to close by giving credit to all the hard-working volunteers who make Tamworth Beer Festival and countless events like it happen up and down the country.

Not unlike the volunteers who do so much to help stroke-survivors and their carers, really......

Lend me your ears....

A few weeks ago, I mentioned how I had talked to Caroline McKenna, of charitypeeks.com, for an interview to go on her regular podcast.  A few technical hitches delayed publication but it is now available to listen to at http://charitypeeks.com/09-martin-warrilow-ask-the-warrier/ (Forgive the spelling errors, Caroline is working to get them fixed as I speak).

I know I'm biased but I think it's well worth a listen; as well as taking the listener through my stroke story, it also details how I've been helped in lots of ways by the charity sector. Recent well-publicised events may have caused people to be a bit wary of donating to charities or helping them in any way. I hope my interview goes some way towards dispelling those views. As far as I'm concerned, without the help and support of Headway (www.headway.org.uk), Different Strokes (www.differentstrokes.co.uk) and the Stroke Association (stroke.org.uk), I wouldn't have come as far and as fast as I have in my rehabilitation.

As regular readers will know, I'm raising funds for Different Strokes (and in particular, the Facebook group it runs) through a sponsored 'run' later this month. If you would like to know more, or would even consider sponsoring me, my donation page is at http:uk.virginmoneygiving.com/MartinWarrillow.

My short stint on the subs' desk at the Derby Telegraph came to an end this week. Two afternoons a week as August holiday cover was enough to show me what I'm capable of, physically and mentally, but I have told them I am keen to return and help out if they ever need a good, experienced sub. If my mental and physical health continues to improve, who knows?

I'm not done with Derby, of course. I was back there on Tuesday this week for another gruelling session at the hands of my therapist and trainer, Emily Smedley. For reasons of which I'm still not entirely sure, this week she had me doing my usual running up and down stairs and corridors without my glasses. I was surprised that I didn't find myself bumping into doors and slipping down stairs but I've no plans to complete the run without my glasses, thanks.

To straighten up my sometimes-wobbly walking, she had me walking up and down the lines on a badminton court (Go on, you try it!) before more squats to strengthen my damaged left side. It's always a struggle but Emily has done wonders for my recovery, as far as I'm concerned. Unfortunately, she's more of a cyclist than a runner, so she won't be joining me (encouraging me? threatening me?) on September 27.  

Getting down to business

In last week's post, I mentioned that I'd started a daily run around Tamworth Castle Grounds in preparation for my sponsored 5km run next month in aid of stroke-survivor charity Different Strokes.

As is often the way with such things, of course, no sooner were the words out in the blogosphere than there was a glitch. While out running on Friday afternoon, in good weather and ideal ground conditions, I started to feel my left hamstring tighten. It began to get very much worse very quickly, so I stopped running, started to try to stretch it to ease the pain and gave up running for the weekend. With my now-weekly trip to Emily Smedley (breathebalancebeactivated.com) due on Monday, it seemed sensible to let her deal with it.

As soon as I reported it to Emily on Monday morning, she diagnosed the problem. I've been running barefoot during our sessions but wearing big, thick, training shoes to run around the Castle Grounds. The foot reacts differently when wearing such shoes so I really need to keep running barefoot, or in shoes with a very thin sole, she said.

Given that training shoes were the only thing I was planning to wear during my naked run, she has recommended such 'minimalist' shoes for the event itself. These can be expensive, but they will surely prove to be worth it.

And Monday morning's session was typically intense, but typically worthwhile. She resolved my hamstring problem with her usual agonising pushes, pulls and prods as I lay on her treatment couch ("Go on, you can scream and frighten the new kids'' she said as Derby College's induction day went on outside the physiotherapy room) before I began running up and down stairs, then moved out on to one of the football pitches. I surprised myself by managing a couple of laps before she upped the ante and had me testing my hamstring by dodging in and out of a series of cones.

Tired but quietly elated at having achieved that, I thought we were done. But no; we now began doing squats, which have previously proved tricky because my stroke-affected left side wouldn't come down far enough to reach the floor. As you can see from the accompanying photograph, this milestone has now been achieved. As I've kept saying throughout this process, there is no such word as 'can't' in stroke rehab. When the photo on the left was taken, back in June, what I achieved on Monday seemed a long way away. But now I've done it. I'm not saying that running 5km just 21 months after nearly being killed by a stroke will be easy - it won't. But thanks to the support of Emily and all the other people who have helped me on this journey (you know who you are), I feel it's within reach.

If you would like to give a donation, my fundraising page is at http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/MartinWarrillow

Up for a challenge? Oh, go on then......

I often talk in this blog about stroke-rehab being full of small steps. Well, this week I feel as if I've taken two huge leaps into the unknown.

Firstly, I've really stepped up training for my charity 5km run next month (details of the event and how to donate are at uk.virginmoneygiving.com/MartinWarrillow). Up until the weekend, I was mainly intending to wing it and think that a combination of running, walking and staggering would get me to the finishing line. But now I've paid my registration fee to the organisers, my attitude has changed.

An intense 90 minutes with therapist Emily Smedley on Monday morning, during which I did more serious running than ever before, and ran faster than ever before, has helped to change my attitude. Now I've started running daily around the Tamworth Castle Grounds, just over the road from Warrillow Towers and am really enjoying it. All that agony on Emily's treatment couch over the last few months seems to be paying off and I'm now looking forward to my daily run, something which I don't think I've ever said in my entire 51 years.

I'm doing all the relevant exercises and thinking that by the end of September, I should be well up to running the distance if I do it properly. After all, 5km isn't that far, is it?

My second huge leap has been into another piece of 21st-century technology which I had previously avoided. Have you heard of Periscope? It's a Twitter app for iPhones that 'lets you broadcast live video to the world."

I found out about it a few weeks ago through a tech-savvy friend and have been following a small number of people since then, while trying to work out how to use it to broadcast myself. On Sunday evening, I got involved in a Facebook discussion during which various people were challenged by a mutual friend to 'take the plunge' and do our first broadcast. Ever up for a challenge, I said I'd do it and yesterdayTuesday, posted an 18-minute video about my stroke experience. It's not perfect, I suppose it was never going to be, but I've had some positive feedback and I will be posting one a week at least from now on.

The major first-time glitch was that I didn't know how to title the video (I do now - thanks, Chris Marr) but if you get into Periscope and search for me as @warrior martin, you should find it. I hope you find it interesting. Right, now I'm off for a run......

A 21st-century peek into ways of helping charities

"When you don't know what you don't know, you don't value it"

Well, obviously, there are plenty of things I didn't know on December 15 2013 that I know now and yes, I value them all (even the fact that my stroke has apparently taken away my ability to distinguish between 'now' and 'know,' lol).

I didn't know (now?), for instance, that 'content creation' is what I'd call journalism and that 'content marketing' is the 21st-century term for what I've been doing all my life, namely writing words and trying to make a living from it.

It was through mutual friends in the networking world that I stumbled on a Facebook group for writers, bloggers, content-marketers and the like called the Content Marketing Academy. The people involved in it seem to be mainly Scottish, so it has widened my contact base enormously.

Through it, I was introduced to a lady called Caroline McKenna. I think we initially met by contributing separately to a discussion on CMA, but I mentioned this blog and she mentioned that she runs a website called charitypeeks.com. That website tries to help smaller charities improve what they do and how they run themselves.

I explained about my charity run to raise money for Different Strokes (shameless plug - feel free to donate at http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com.MartinWarrillow) and the conversation continued to the point where she invited me to be interviewed for a podcast.

That interview took place this morning and I talked about my stroke experience, how I get involved in helping charities (not just DS, also Headway and the Stroke Association) and how I work to promote understanding of stroke. When it goes on the website, I'll give it a proper plug on here.

I left you last week as I was just about to dip a toe back into the frantic world of editorial newsrooms. Since that post, I've done three more half-shifts. I'm thoroughly enjoying it, the people are lovely, the money is going to come in very handy, but it's reminding me that I am nowhere near ready to get back into that mad atmosphere full-time. And given that staff headcounts have fallen massively since I left, I do know that I wouldn't want to now anyway.

Going back to an office after six years

This was the week when the light at the end of our financial tunnel may have begun to look less like an onrushing train.

That it came about was another tribute to the power of networking - of knowing as many people as you can, of keeping in touch with as many people as possible and acting quickly when the window of opportunity opens.

Last Thursday, I received an unexpected email from a former colleague. Although we haven't met in person for a while, we have stayed in contact and he knows of my medical situation

He was writing to say that he had been doing some freelance sub-editing work for a newspaper in our area, but was unavailable to them during August. They needed help, so he had recommended me; he didn't need to do that, did he?

He gave me the contact details of the man to speak to and I immediately fired off a CV and covering letter, expressing my interest and explaining my circumstances. Within two hours, they had replied. Could I come in for a chat and a 'trial' this Monday?

So, I was up early on Monday morning to catch a train and work in an office for the first time since December 2009. I was wary because of my stroke-made ability to get tired very quickly. The last thing I wanted to do was fall asleep across my desk.

But the four-hour 'trial' we had agreed went smoothly from my view (they didn't throw any of my work back in my face, lol) and when I got home, I found an email offering me four afternoons a week for the next three weeks through August, with the possibility of more after that.

Sadly,  I didn't feel I could do four afternoons for two reasons; firstly, the physical toll it was likely to take and secondly, the rate they were offering would put me well over the amount I'm permitted to earn while still retaining all of my benefits from the Department of Work and Pensions.

If I could guarantee this work as long-term and permanent, I could probably do without those. But it isn't and I can't. So we've agreed two afternoons a week through August and 'we'll talk about' what happens after that.

What it is, though, is a foot in the door; proof that I can still do 'proper' work as I used to before all this happened. It doesn't solve our problems but it's money we didn't have previously and that can only be good.

Talking of money, the fundraising page for my 5km run to raise money for stroke-survivor charity Different Strokes is now live. It's at http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/MartinWarrillow and I'd be grateful if you'd take a look. If you feel able to donate, that would be even better.

A splendid night out

Walking miles around Paris without my stick (see last week's blog) was obviously a huge confidence-booster. It meant I could walk the streets without fear of one thing which many disabled people dread - being picked out as somehow different because we use a stick and we're not in our 70s or 80s.

My new status was going to be challenged pretty quickly, as well. Twenty-hours after our return from France, I was due at (yet another) leaving party for some of my former colleagues at the Birmingham Post & Mail. This isn't the place to recycle the argument over the rights and wrongs of the decline of local newspapers, but I will say that this event was to mark the departure through voluntary redundancy of five highly-experienced and talented journalists with well over 100 years of experience between them.

It was being held in Birmingham city centre on what turned into an absolutely filthy night, weather-wise. I boarded the train safely at Tamworth station (no sign of my stick, by the way....) and managed to get to the venue without looking too unsteady on my feet.

The venue itself, however, was a different matter. This pub is always crowded; at 6.30pm on a Friday, it's chaos. Luckily, I found some of our party quite quickly but soon discovered that walking across a packed pub with little control over your balance is not fun; I apologise to anyone whose pint I may have accidentally spilled if I bumped into them.

In the end, it was a terrific night. The cream of Midlands journalism was in attendance and I managed to remember that drinking too much would not just have been silly, but thoroughly stupid.

That does, however, bring me to a pet gripe of mine; toilets for the disabled. When you are unable to climb stairs safely, these ground-floor facilities are essential. But most of them can (for obvious reasons) only be accessed by a special key, provided through the RADAR national key scheme. Those disabled people who are 'in the know' buy their own, but plenty of us don't and have to rely for access on a key kept behind the bar/counter and provided on request by the staff.

That's OK most of the time, but trying to get to the bar in a crowded city centre pub when you are unsteady on your feet, then get the attention of busy staff, then ask them to look for and find the key, then fight your way back through the crowd.....well, by the time you've done all that, it may be too late.

I decided not to bother; For a split-second, I considered struggling up the stairs to the gents until I realised that this pub has a lift. Suffice to say I used it, did what needed doing, got back downstairs in the lift and found a comfortable seat on the ground floor.

But this little incident just highlights one of the hundreds (thousands? millions?) of little difficulties with which disabled people fight daily. Until December 16 2013, I was as unaware of them as the rest of the population; now, especially since I threw away my stick, they shine out like beacons.

The loss of independence and control is one of the most frustrating things for a brain-injury survivor. After this little incident, I felt as if I had achieved something substantial on my own to which able-bodied people wouldn't give a second thought. But I would ask for a little understanding at times - especially because stroke can be an unseen disability in people such as me. So let me try to get up the stairs, get to the bar, get to the gents on my own; but please understand that it might take me a little longer than you.

Letting go of a not-so-vital crutch

It's been a crazy week, to put it mildly....

It started last Saturday (July 18) when Mrs Warrior and I attended a long-awaited reunion of some of my old schoolmates. Most of us hadn't met in person for 31 years, since our last day at school. Some of us stay in touch via Facebook, despite living as far apart as Dubai and Birmingham, but plenty hadn't been in contact at all.

Some still had the look of that long-forgotten school photograph (including The Warrior, apparently) while some have changed radically over the years. Whatever the case, it was a great night and I am already looking forward to next year's event.

The evening was made for me when someone called Paul Ferris came and shook me by the hand, then gave me a hug. Paul Ferris was the bane of my life at school. The class bully par excellence, he and a couple of his mates made life hell for the young Martin Warrillow.

Thirty-one years later, meeting for the first time since then, we could have let three decades of pent-up mutual dislike spill out. But we didn't. We gave each other a huge hug, I explained to Mrs Warrior who he was and felt as if the night had been made even more worthwhile.

Some people are nervous about going to school reunions at my age, just in case meeting people ruins their memories. After my experience, I won't hesitate to recommend them.

After a quick pit-stop at Warrillow Towers on Sunday, we were off again on Monday morning to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary with three days in Paris. At times over the last 18 months since my stroke, it has seemed as if we might not make that milestone. Yet we did and we even went up the Eiffel Tower and on a boat-trip along the Seine to mark the moment.

Yet in the context of my recovery from stroke, perhaps the most important event took place before we had even left Tamworth. We were rushing to catch a train at Tamworth station for the first leg of the journey to Paris when I suddenly realised that my walking stick was missing. With the train approaching the platform, we had two choices - go back to the ticket office to look for it (and miss the train and a subsequent one to London, onto which we were booked) or go to Paris without it and deal with the consequences.

So we boarded the train and I prepared for life after my walking stick. In the end, we walked miles during our three days in the French capital. For most of the time, I held Mrs W firmly by the hand to keep myself upright. At other times, I ploughed on ahead. Whatever, I coped - I had discovered what some people had been telling me for weeks and months, that the stick had become an un-needed support mechanism.

I don't propose to use it again and I certainly didn't enquire after it at Tamworth railway station on our return.

At times, life has a way of creeping up unexpectedly on you; we can never predict what is going to happen from one minute to the next. That's the story of this week, from my meeting with Paul Ferris to going without my stick. It's the story of my life since December 16 2013 when I suffered my stroke. It's why there's no point in being positive or negative about the future because we just don't know. What I do know is that The Warrior is ready to deal with whatever life flings at him.

Tired? Yes, of course I am

I've written before in this space how fatigue is becoming the hardest part of dealing with my life as a strokie. I can fall asleep in a chair and not know it; I can find myself incapable of keeping my eyes open during the day, should I have had two busy days in a row; I can start yawning at 9am and never stop all day until I go to bed.

The medical people tell you that this is a sure sign of a tired, damaged, brain saying it needs a period of complete rest to recover; Regular readers will know that The Warrior, always keen to be active and doing something, is hopeless at listening to that tired, damaged, brain.

And I don't have the worst of it. I know of strokies who often lack the energy, never mind the motivation, to even get out of bed in the mornings.

For me, it's one of the major things stopping me doing the kind of work I want to do. I'm no good to anyone if I fall asleep all the time; last Sunday, for instance, I was more or less asleep through the whole of a church service; after that, Mrs Warrior and I took her mother out for lunch during which I spent much of the time asleep in a corner. The medics say I am good for no more than three hours of work a day; sometimes, it can feel like even less.

And stroke fatigue is not like 'ordinary' fatigue; not the kind of fatigue you get from working too many hours or not getting enough sleep. Stroke fatigue dulls the brain to the point where remembering anything is impossible, where putting one foot (or one crutch, one stick) in front of the other is a challenge.

Medical research is still struggling to understand 'stroke fatigue'. Obviously, having a damaged brain is part of it, but this week, I heard the phrase 'brain energy' for the first time. It came at a meeting of the Stroke Association's Research Project Grant Adjudication Panel. I can't say anything about the results of the learned panel's deliberations, but I can say that one of the projects we discussed is looking into how much the incidence of stroke fatigue can be put down to low levels of brain energy.

Well, given how much energy the brain needs to function, I would say the answer is 'a lot'. Without getting too scientific, a damaged brain doesn't produce the same levels of energy as a 'normal' brain and it does have an effect.

So although I sympathise with those who say they feel tired all the time from dealing with young children and/or the exhausting demands of work, I'd ask them to recognise that my kind of fatigue is not your kind of fatigue. I'm not saying it's any worse, I'm saying it's different. And unless you have had a stroke, you can never know how that feels.

Remember the Twickenham Streaker?

Are you old enough to remember Erika Roe? I was an 18-year-old schoolboy when she took off her bra at Twickenham during an England rugby international, ran out of the crowd and sprinted on to the pitch.

The subsequent picture of this buxom brunette, arms flung high in the air and her substantial 34G assets exposed to the January air, became an iconic image. In the days before the internet, nudity was far less common in the media and the newspapers delighted in publishing pictures of the topless Erika.

At the time, she was 24 and worked in a bookshop; she later became a farmer and 'came out of retirement' this year by posing topless for a 2015 calendar to raise money for breast-cancer charities.

Having lost my mother ridiculously early to that horrible disease, I never miss a chance to support such charities and a copy of Erika's calendar, entitled "The Twickenham Streaker' now adorns the wall in the spare bedroom at Warrillow Towers.

It may seem a little late in 2015, but you can still purchase copies at erikaroe.com. Even if you just pay the money and throw the calendar in the bin (I hope you won't throw it in the bin, though), it's worth £12.

This month's picture is a re-creation of another iconic image, one which adorned the bedroom wall of many a teenage boy in the '70s and 80's. If I simply say 'tennis', an awful lot of men of a certain age should know what I mean.......

The reason I've concentrated on Erika and her assets this week is that were I to talk about my week, much of it would be awkward and depressing - and I wouldn't want that. Hopefully, next week, which includes the 2nd birthday party of a close friend's son, will be considerably better.

I'll close with one bit of good news. This week, 'The Warrior' passed 3,000 hits since it first took to the internet last December. I'd like to thank everyone who has shown an interest.

A fleeting dose of Monday-morning guilt, swiftly burnt away in the sun

I'm not one for dwelling on the negatives of my situation; thinking ''why me?' and 'how will we cope?' gets you absolutely nowhere. Stroke-survivors are often naturally prone to mood swings anyway and the after-effects of a stroke are bad enough to deal with without dwelling on them.

But just occasionally, I succumb. As I mentioned last week, bad weather doesn't help while Monday mornings can also be difficult. For instance, I was feeling particularly sorry for myself this Monday morning, before I went to the monthly meeting of a book club I visit at our local library.

One of the other regulars is a very pleasant lady of about my age who is wheelchair-bound for much of the time. I don't know precisely what's wrong, but it isn't nice. Yet she's always cheerful and chatty and likes her sport, especially tennis and cricket, just as much as I do.

We got talking on Monday and she said to me "Do you suffer from Monday morning guilt? That feeling you get when everyone else in the house is rushing around and dashing off to work and you're still in bed.'

You bet I do; I've just never heard it called that before. We both agreed that it's totally pointless as there's nothing we can do about our situation, so there's no sense feeling guilty about it, even if others sometimes try to make you feel guilty. And as we talked, I realised that this was another example of how talking to others about how you feel is therapeutic. It can't have been a coincidence that I had been thinking about this less than an hour before and now here I was, talking to someone who felt the same. I went away from the meeting feeling a lot less guilty about those Monday mornings. And of course, the warm/hot weather has improved my mood.

Tuesday saw me on Emily's treatment couch again. I thought I was used to the agonies this brings but this week, I actually said to her: "Wouldn't it be easier if I just died now? "It wouldn't look very good on me," she said. Indeed it wouldn't and I'm glad I didn't, because then I wouldn't have been able to run 20 yards down a field full of clover, nor climb up and down four steps without using the handrail, something I haven't done since my stroke.

At first, my brain told me I couldn't do it but as I've said numerous times, there's no such word as 'can't' in stroke-rehab. So I told my brain to behave itself, climbed those steps several times, ran down that sunlit field and felt a lot better about life. Another positive, I think.....

Cold and tired, but celebrating another breakthrough

Fuerteventura, one of the smallest of the Canary Islands off the coast of Spain, has 364 days of sunshine per year and is a haven for naturists. Tamworth, in Staffordshire, doesn't and isn't.

It's not hard to see, therefore, why emigrating to Fuerteventura, or somewhere similarly hot and quiet, was a dream of mine even before December 16 2013. Since that awful day, it's become even more obvious that Britain's cold, grey, damp weather and this particular Warrior were not meant for each other.

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a magazine column which was 800 words long and was almost wholly devoted to the joys of blood-thinning tablets. Nearly all stroke-survivors have to take these for life because they reduce the risk of further clots. They work (or at least they have worked for me so far) but they have one drastic side-effect; as well as thinning the blood, they also chill it. Imagine sticking your hand in the average domestic freezer, leaving it there until you could stand it no longer, then having to cope with your hands and feet feeling that cold for the rest of the day and night.

I had poor circulation before my stroke; since then, the feeling of cold in my hands and feet has got considerably worse. Of course, when you place this against the difficulties suffered by those survivors who are permanently paralysed in some way, it's something that I just have to live with (and invoke my Warrior spirit while doing so). But it's just another of those things that non-strokies can never understand about this condition - and heaven knows, there are plenty of those.

I mention this because the weather this week around Warrillow Towers has not been helpful. On Monday and Tuesday, I was so cold that I sat at home in a thick sweatshirt all day - IN THE FINAL WEEK OF JUNE, FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE. Add in one of those horrible instances of fatigue which all strokies get - when I was barely able to raise the energy to get off the sofa for a couple of days - and the week has not been good.

But I'll KBO (work it out, lol), be thankful for the fact that I got up this morning, sit outside in the sun for a while after I've finished writing this and leave you by explaining the breakthrough in my therapy to which I referred last week.

Emily Smedley and I have spent our last couple of sessions working on my stroke-affected left foot; trying to get it to rest evenly on the floor, rather than the odd angle at which it has sat even before my stroke. This involves me resting on the couch with my left foot pressed hard up against the wall of the room while Emily does her worst with various muscles and nerves around my waist. It hurts, of course; it wouldn't be working if it didn't. But towards the end of our last session, I actually wanted to get outside and sprint down the corridor; not just run, but actually sprint in proper athletic fashion. And I did. And using proper technique, rather than holding my left hand clenched as I usually do. It was actually fun. And the exercises which Emily gave me to do, which involve getting into what American Football fans will recognise as a lineman's three-point stance (to strengthen my thigh and knee) have been equally good.

And they've had an effect. On several occasions this week, I've walked from Warrillow Towers to the supermarket over the road without even using my stick for balance and support. It's been a bit wobbly at times and yes, I do look a little bit tipsy if I stumble. But it's another achievement. I'm back at Emily's next Tuesday and I'm looking forward to doing some more serious running. It will help if the weather is sufficiently summer-like that we can get outside without feeling too cold, though....

Spreading my message through word and website

'You can have the most important message in the world to give people, but it's no good if no-one knows about you."

I'm not sure who to credit with that statement, it's probably an amalgam of several people I know but, of course, it's true. I can bang on all I like about stroke awareness and all the other causes that interest me but if no-one's listening or knows where to find me, I might as well talk to my bedroom wall.

So on Friday this week, I hauled myself on the train up to Manchester and gave a 30-minute presentation about naturism to a group of members from 4Networking, the business networking organisation I belong to. It's the third time I've been there, but the first time I've spoken about naturism. As always when I discuss the subject, there were lots of nodding heads and people agreeing with my assertions about the naturist lifestyle.

I'm not sure any of them will be joining naturist organisations any time soon, but it might just give them a different attitude if they hear about a nearby naturist beach while on holiday in Europe or further afield this summer.

And I made contact with plenty of people who were interested in what I do while wearing my 'Warrior' costume, so to speak. One was an insurance broker who totally agreed with my assertion that not enough people take out critical-illness cover which would pay out in the event of a stroke and not enough companies offer it. He also completely agreed with me that the traditional lifestyle of the self-employed person, working 80 hours a week with the phone and laptop never off, puts them on the quick road to a heart attack or a stroke or both. And they may not be as fortunate as I was in surviving the experience.

On Monday, a video went on to my website at www.askthewarrior.com, courtesy of 4N member Matthew Riley of the Website Video Agency. With an eye on making sure that more people know about The Warrior it explains, briefly and succinctly, what I do and why I do it. If you have come to my blog from another direction, I'd be grateful if you'd take a look.

And on Sunday, myself and my therapist Emily Smedley were featured in a double-page spread in the Birmingham Sunday Mercury. I can't post a website link to it but there's a picture of it here: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10205958909644732&set=p.10205958909644732&type=1&theater.

Quite a week, then: and that was before Emily and I seemed on our way to a serious breakthrough in the walking/running stakes on Tuesday. What was it? I'll tell you next week......