After eight months of negative news yesterday, Monday, my consultation with my urologist surgeon was more positive, with a clinically negative registered PSA count. The first since a year after my brachytherapy some seven years ago. Clinically negative means so low to be treated as negative. This result will allow a six-month break before my next consultation following further tests, allowing time for my stomach cancer to be attended to.
“It appears my cancers are involved in a game of tag, first one, then the other takes precedence, each alternating in the need for immediate attention.” - Peter McSporran.
On a slightly more negative matter, he is unwilling to try and remedy my bladder incontinence until the stomach surgeons and oncologists decide how to treat my stomach cancer. With regard to my stomach
cancer, we know from the surgeon who carried out my appendix operation that she found two tumours, leaving one in situ, as she was nervous about infection if she removed it. Meanwhile, the one she did remove confirmed through biopsy my stomach cancer had returned. Last week, I had a further CT scan, which a panel will review on the 10th of April to decide what action, if any, should be taken. They will call me immediately following that discussion. Hence, the reluctance of my urologist to carry out surgery to lessen my incontinence in case I require further surgery or radiation to deal with the stomach cancer. He jokingly asked me if I had any organs left in my stomach, as I have had so many operations in that region recently.
I must say that, in addition to being dedicated medical professionals in Portugal, all my surgeons and doctors are very approachable and are always happy to answer my questions, good or bad, honestly. There is never any feeling of aloofness in their demeanour.
To further improve our mood, Storm, our oldest daughter, and her long-time fiancee Duncan and Selby, with his brand new fiancee Maggie, have stayed with us for the week. Despite the horrible wet weather, we have enjoyed a week of games and wine around the kitchen table. For me, a little wine rather and the odd beer with a whisky before bed, the latter medicinal, of course.
Scotland's New Hate Crime Law.
I watch in dismay the downfall of my birth country under a ruling ‘populist’ party put in place under the banner of an ‘Independent Scotland.’ The new ‘Hate Crime Law’ was enacted in that country on April Fools Day. This is an Orwellian piece of legislation where even what is said in the privacy of your own home can be reported as hate speech or could possibly stir up hatred. It does not have to be proven as such for your name to appear forever and a day on police records. I am only a layman, but having had a few court battles in my day, especially with the Chinese, the act's wording seems very ambiguous. I, therefore, surmise that this legislation will be altered, but only after it has caused much pain to innocent ordinary people. Even worse, as much of it seems to rely on the interpretation of the police or judiciary, not written law, it can possibly and most likely be used selectively. The snowflakes will love it. If found guilty, the punishment is also draconian, and the person, if sentenced can spend up to seven years in jail.
“Why is it that populist governments are so inept not just in the management of the country but in implementing their election promises? Even worse, if given the opportunity, they will completely silence the majority and take away the very rights they promised to enshrine. They become more concerned about their own survival greatly influenced by the vocal minority than the silent majority they claim to represent.” - Peter McSporran.
Even though the judiciary and the police have openly opposed the legislation, the SNP has pushed it through in its ambiguity. If those who will have to enforce the law say it's bad, why introduce it except for ulterior motives? Here, at face value, it looks like the removal of freedom of speech.
I am not a reader of Harry Potter, although I have enjoyed reading R B Galbraith, a pseudonym used by J.K. Rowling, who authored her crime books, but my admiration for her has risen in her stance against this law. She rightly claims that rather than protecting the vulnerable, it will take away many of our freedoms we used to be proud of in being part of British culture. I also wonder how the police will deal with their impossible task of investigating the insults traded and perhaps even real hate utterances between Celtic and Rangers or even Hearts or Hibernian supporters.
“Many of us Scotsmen say we do not like the English in a derogatory manner but most of us realise that our lives and cultures are intrinsically entwined for our mutual wellbeing, making the spoken hatred just that not tangible.” - Peter McSporran
Sadly, Governments rarely repeal legislation; they would rather tinker with it than admit they were wrong to introduce it in the first place.
Istanbul.
On leaving Tunisia, I headed to Istanbul to attend the main International Federation of Agricultural Producers (IFAP) in 1993. This was due to our agricultural marketing, in theory, being liberalised. It was a delegation of producer representatives from Zimbabwe. These included Selby Chance from the Cattle Producers Association, Ian Webster representing dairy producers, Richard Amyot representing grains, and myself representing the Commercial Farmers Union.
I made the mistake of flying from Tunis direct to Istanbul. This, coupled with Mugabe’s verbal support of Saddam Hussein and my coming from an Arab country, led to two hours of questioning at the airport before I was allowed entry. In these circumstances, the small windowless rooms they take you to for questioning are intimidating enough without any questions being asked. I never found out why flying from Tunisia was a problem, while the rest of the party flying from Zimbabwe via London faced only cursory questions on entry.
I was surprised to find how modern the city of Istanbul appeared to be. Along the Bosphorus, multiple restaurants and five-a-side football pitches are overlooked by impressive modern hotels. You cannot miss the Blue Mosque as you drive into the city and the many ancient buildings representing so many cultures.
The IFAP conference was being held in the hotel complex where we were to stay during its proceedings, which allowed us to mix with other countries socially. Interestingly, the Canadians, Australians and New Zealanders were there in strength, while many were missing at the executive meeting in Tunis. I never understood why this was the case. The New Zealanders had accepted free marketing and were surviving without subsidies, something that made their European counterparts very uncomfortable in accepting as they, the European farmers, relied on the subsidy basket to allow them to survive.
The actual meetings, although including well over a hundred delegates, were very much in the same vein as the executive meeting. That is the first world farmers wanted access to our markets, but they would need protection from our cheap, unsafe products riddled with disease or unsafe pesticides, so they claimed. This protection is in the form of tariffs, phytosanitary and veterinary rules, and an impregnable bureaucracy barrier to ensure the difficult entry of your goods. If you want to export to us we will, at your expense, have to send a delegation of bureaucrats and producers to inspect your export commodities production, including the infrastructure where you process your product, be it animal or crop. This would also include your field use of pesticides in crops and your veterinary products used in the protection against disease in livestock. Many potential exporters in emerging agricultural economies would be stymied by these costs and rules, unable to access meaningful support from their own governments. They were still happy to call it a fair playing field despite the truth’s contradiction being obvious to all.
The most benefit we got was networking and listening to the challenges other producers faced, some, not the French, offering solutions to our production problems. We particularly got close to the New Zealanders and Canadians and decided on a night out. After an evening of pub crawling, a group of about eight of us ended up in a nightclub. There are many in Istanbul, and this one had a large contingent of Eastern European ladies looking for opportunities. It was not long before some were sidling over to our table, asking for a drink. Having travelled a bit, I cautioned my companions that they would find the drinks very expensive. It was not long before flowers and snacks appeared, both unrequested. I said I was off and an Aussie and I went downstairs to the restaurant to have a meal while still being able to watch the cabaret. About two hours later while relieving myself in the toilet urinal, two large Turkish-looking thugs, complete with moustaches, came up to me and said I must come with them. It was made clear I could not refuse. They duly escorted me upstairs, where the group of our erstwhile companions had been presented with a hefty bill they were unable to pay. When I suggested they go and draw money from an ATM it was pointed out that only a short, highly vocal New Zealander dairy farmer had been the only one with a card. Under the escort of a bouncer, he had crossed the street to an ATM only to see his card swallowed by it after failing to enter the correct pin a number of times. He had been the main advocate of letting the ladies join them. Only drinks, chocolates and food had been bought, no bodies thankfully. Selby Chance, who happened to be my roommate, knew I was in the position to bail them out as I had a wad of cash in my hotel safe. I had learnt in early life never to travel without cash. We from Zimbabwe had limited resources, especially access to debit and credit cards that worked outside Zimbabwe. In desperation to avoid a more painful outcome and pointing out that I and my Aussie companion had warned them of the dangers, I agreed to go and fetch some cash to ensure their release from the threat of injury. They had to remain as hostages until I returned, but to be honest, I toyed during the drive to our lodgings to not return once within the safety of the hotel confines. I relented and went back to them, spending the rest of the trip much poorer as they were unable to refund me. Yet another life lesson: do not let your travelling companions know you travel with cash in case of emergency, otherwise, I have found they more often require it than yourself. At least if they are unaware, you can offer the help voluntarily, unlike me in Istanbul, bailing out virtual strangers and loudmouth ones at that.
In Istanbul itself, we visited the Grand Bazaar, an eye-opening place of commerce selling every conceivable item, requirement, or trinket. We also visited a traditional Turkish restaurant as a group and were entertained by a belly dancer who had no ulterior motive other than showing her dancing skills.
Towards the end of the conference, we went on a field trip on the Asian side of the Bosphorus, which was enlightening in that as soon as you crossed the straits, poverty was much more pronounced, especially in the rural areas. I cannot recollect exactly what we visited over and above a tuna fish canning plant, which vividly remains in my memory. The claim by the management on arrival, and displayed on their cans, was that these tuna were harvested in a dolphin-friendly manner. We believed them until we entered the first vast cold room full of tuna, and I am sorry to say, with many dolphins waiting to be processed. I wondered if the dolphins went in the cans, why else would they be there? I read and heard from friends that Turkey has changed significantly since the early nineties. I personally do not know, having unfortunately never returned.
Disclaimer: Copyright Peter McSporran. The content in this blog represents my personal views and does not reflect corporate entities.
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