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My Week In Beats – 24.05.13

Posted by missjengrieves on May 24, 2013 in Diabetes in General

Week 2… This is fun isn’t it? I like this idea.

Soooo music music music. This week has been about a LOT of music, maybe more than normal. Let’s GO.

1. So on Friday night I had the absolute pleasure of heading to Brighton to pap the BBC Introducing night at the Great Escape festival. This ‘work’ pretty much combined all of my favourite things: taking pics, live music and being by the sea! (I know, tough job isn’t it?! I promise I do work really hard). There was a really lovely group of us down there and I photo’d four bands over the course of the evening. One of them, Iyes, I pretty much fell in love with there and then, and this had absolutely nothing to do with the beautiful guitarist… Honest.

This track Glow struck me completely. The vocals – wow. The rest… well it’s synthy, soft electro pop which is utterly mesmerising – music that grabs you and takes you under without you realising rather than shoving it down your neck, into your ears and assaulting your senses without warning or choice. The crashes of percussion are dreamy and there’s an overwhelming, heady lift throughout this track that takes you far, far away. I can’t wait to see what’s coming for these guys, and with the current buzz around them I’m sure it won’t be long before we all hear a lot more from Iyes.

2. After a very respectable start, this maaaayyyyy be another one for the disclaimer pile… don’t judge. I had an early birthday party on Saturday as I am spending this weekend (on whence my actual 26th day of birth falls) working in Derry-Londonderry for Radio 1′s Big Weekend. More on that in a moment. But said party – oh my it was bloody wonderful. What’s not to love about having most of your favourite people all in one place and seeing all your different worlds blend together in a prosecco-fuelled haze of happiness? It literally rocked my world – well the neighbour’s walls at least. Much as I tried to unleash an acceptably cool playlist amongst my muso/DJ friends, it took until about 1am for my housemate to switch it over to her favourite 5ive Megamix (not complaining, see last week’s entry no. 3), and by 5am there was an incident with Celine Dion and a whisk. She’s going in. What a belter.

3. Preparing to lose more credibility here… I’m about to talk about musicals. Ohhhh musicals *adopts Disney stage face*. I just love them. I love the big production, the make up, the costumes, the singing, the drama, the emotion, the journey, the escapism, and most of all the dancing. Dancing was my absolute life until about the age of 18, and becoming a West End dancer was THE DREAM. Mostly when I go and see musicals I get pangs of grief/joy for a former life, and have to physically restrain myself from leaping out of my seat and pirouetting onto the stage, which would be awkward for everybody involved. I’m getting all misty eyed here, but yeh I quite like musicals. So two of besties get utterly outrageous amounts of props for surprising me at aforementioned party with tickets to see the soon to be released Charlie and The Chocolate Factory on the West End. It just so happens that the original film is one of my very favourites, and one of the first films I remember truly loving. Aren’t my friends amazing?!?!

So here he is in all his wonderful, sinister, eccentric, exquisite glory – Gene Wilder and his original Chocolate Factory.

4. So here I am typing this in my hotel room in Derry-Londonderry, about to head off for my first day on site ‘working’ at Radio 1’s Big Weekend. I’ve used quite marks because I know a lot of people will not regard this as a proper job but I can assure you I will be working my ass off, even though admittedly there are a lot worse things you could be doing on your birthday than being surrounded by a like-minded bunch of awesome creatives working to pull people from all over the UK together to have a great time – on site, through the radio and online (here’s hoping I don’t single-handedly implode the Internet). This is a stunning example of just what music can do for people from ridiculously contrasting walks of life; united for one weekend by one band, one song, one lyric, one moment. It’s actual magic.

Did I mention I really REALLY love my job?

It’s going to be such a special, wonderful, silly, knackering, exceptional few days. It blows my mind a little bit that I’m even here as one tiny minute part of such a massive operation. One of my faves on the line-up is the wonderful Bastille. I’ve been totally obsessed with them since hearing their exceptionally clever mixtape Other People’s Heartache. There is also now an equally exceptional Other People’s Heartache Part 2. I urge you to wrap your ears around both and get lost in the exquisite compilation of covers, and also Dan’s insane vocals. HAUNTING. But they’re quite an investment of a listen (although  they are PERFECT to get you through a dreary afternoon), so I will leave you with their latest single, Laura Palmer. I’ll let it speak for itself, as the lyrics quite rightly say: ‘This is your heart/ Can you feel it?/ Can you feel it?’

Lots of music-based Love xxx

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My Week In Beats – 17.05.13

Posted by missjengrieves on May 17, 2013 in Diabetes in General

Hola! So I thought this might be a little fun thing to do each Friday to spread the feel good vibes in the way that only music can, inspired by everyone I work with at Radio 1 and 1Xtra that are so passionate about what they do. These are my previously published unashamedly OTT thoughts on what music can do for a soul.

It’s the most wonderful, universal language in the whole of existence. It’s flipping tremendous. It divides people, but ultimately it unites people. Music = Love. It’s just an incredible thing don’tcha think? It DOES THINGS to people. Physically it makes you move (bum wigglers, head nodders, you count just as much as those partial to a running man), emotionally it reaches out to you, chemically I’m sure it must do something because bloody hell it lifts you up. It transports you to a time, a place, a memory, a person and it tells you in no uncertain terms that there is blood in your veins and a heart in your chest.

It’s intense, but I stand by every single word! Full post here if you’re ready for more – including why it’s totally relevant to life with Type 1.

So with that in mind I’ve put together a little list of the songs that have embellished my lovely little week, with a little explanation (or justification! You’ll see…) as to why they’ve made it. Please feel free to add yours in the comments box; I’d love to know what the soundtrack to your week has been and I also LOVE finding new/old music gems, so this makes for a rather indulgent win on my part.

1. This little gem came at me via my bestie Dee King who likes to slap me in the face with a beauty of a new track on an idle Tuesday. This one got me good – as I said on Twitter, I’d like to live in it all summer. It’s needs no more explanation than that; just hurry up and get your ears around it. Wonderful.

2.  This track featured on last week’s video blog, the response to which I am still recovering from. Completely overwhelmed and humbled – quite frankly, you lot absolutely rock. When making it, I put a little plea out into the Twittersphere asking for up and coming bands that wouldn’t mind me using their music in return for a credit, as opposed to hashing through 30 second snippets of commercial gubbins. New Music Trumpet! Dear Ally McCrae (of BBC Introducing fun) came up absolute trumps with this synthy stomper. I haven’t stopped listening to it since. Prides are making a lot of ears prick up on Hype Machine currently and I can’t wait to see what’s next for them.

3. Ok, this one needs a disclaimer. Earlier this week I was ‘fortunate’ enough to go to The Big Reunion tour. I put that word in quote marks to save face but it doesn’t need them – I BLOODY LOVED IT. My 10-year-old pop-obsessed loser self had all but one of the bands in question’s albums (soz, 911. You didn’t make the cut) and my no less 25-year-old loser self remembered EVERY word, including the 5ive raps, and a questionable B*Witched b-side (Jessie Hold On, anyone?) It was perfect, innocent, wonderful 90s nostalgia. Suddenly I was transported back to my childhood bedroom with my walkman and a copy of Smash Hits in hand, learning all the words, with posters of every band imaginable covering my walls, dreaming of being a Spice Girl one day. I forgot how much I loved this Liberty X track when I was a wee pop-loving dancing queen – a curveball from Just A Little, yes, but we don’t want to be predictable now do we? I’ve embedded the TOTP performance rather than the music video just to add to the throwback. This one is going on the karaoke list.

4. This one goes in as a nod to the ridiculous challenge I’m currently in training for, trying to kid myself I’m some kind of sportsperson. In September I’m (hopefully/apparently) cycling from London to Paris and then running a half marathon in the same week to raise money for Diabetes UK. The method to the madness is explained here (and there is a wee link to my sponsorship page at the bottom too. Subtle right?!), and by writing that post, I can no longer pretend it’s not actually happening, particularly as people have now been wonderful and donated their hard earned to the cause. GULP. So I will be calling on the boys below multiple times a week for the foreseeable in the hope that I’ll actually be able to do this thing.

5. Aaannnndddd finally. Right, sampling tracks is risky business. There are some musical greats whose tracks people very rarely dare to touch. Tracks that are so very very highly regarded that the very real possibility of tampering with it and destroying it would also happen to simultaneously destroy a generation’s memories of a gloried youth. Not something you’d hope for.

Enter… Pharrell. A producer with the Midas touch when it comes to beats – the N.E.R.D album In Search Of… is still one of my favourites ever ever. The man is just a genius. A brave genius who has decided to play with Marvin Gaye’s Got To Give It Up for the Robin Thicke track below, with a few Michael Jackson ‘owwws’ thrown in for good measure, while he’s at it. Riiiiiiisky.

But he pulls it off, the bugger. This track reeks of swag, the kind that makes your shoulders move and your lips pout involuntarily as you listen, regardless of whether it’s appropriate (be warned if you’re reading this in the dentist’s waiting room). I’ve decided not to embed the explicit version of the video here (one word: NAKED) but you’ll definitely be able to find it if you’re curious.

You’re so curious aren’t you?!

Nakedness or no nakedness, this is the kind of funky, sensual groove that is perfect for a Friday afternoon, when the anticipation of the unexplored weekend is palpable in the air. It’s completely of the moment, and yet wonderfully nostalgic at the same time. Nice one, Mr Williams.

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The Big Challenge

Posted by missjengrieves on May 15, 2013 in The Big Challenge

No, like REALLY big. Really, really super silly big.

Well, not landing an aircraft big. Or turning water in wine big (still trying on that one). But in the realms of my silly existence… it’s a whopper.

I’m excited. And I’m utterly terrified. Here’s a very obvious clue…

The Big Challenge

Quite a few months ago, long enough ago that I didn’t have to acknowledge I was making a real life commitment, I for some reason decided to sign up to run a half marathon for Diabetes UK in September. This to me is a really scary prospect, mostly because I’ve never actually been able to run.

Yep.

Seriously – I used to get pulled off the basketball court 10 minutes after going in, all guns blazing, and crashing and burning just as quickly. When I was a footballer (I KNOW RIGHT), I was a goalkeeper. Then I was a dancer, which suited me because it was about things like coordination, presence, agility – and definitely NOT about the relentless pounding in your ears as your feet hit the tarmac one after the other after the other, over and over, for what seems like an absolute eternity. Even after uni when I realised I was a whale and shifted some snakebite-induced pounds, not once did I step on the treadmill. So for the majority of my 25 years and 50 weeks on this earth, I’ve made a concerted effort to avoid running at all costs.

Thhheeeen in London, spoiled by the surroundings of lush commons and parks and buoyed by the likes of Girls Aloud and Swedish House Mafia, and some lithe and athletically minded (and irritatingly chirpy) friends, I braced myself and did up my laces. Low and behold, I found I kind of liked it. Sometimes. In irregular doses, for short periods of time. But the problem here is I also like cake, my sofa and ordering large glasses of white wine of a Friday. And a Thursday. Sometimes a Wednesday too.

So the Great North Run was my challenge. I say was – I’m still doing it.

Theeennnn… I bought a bike.

I gushed (REALLY REALLY GUSHED. It was embarrassing for all concerned) about my intense love affair with my bike last week. I don’t want you to get sick in your mouth again so read at your own risk.

Theeeennnn (sensing a theme here), one absent-minded afternoon on the Diabetes UK website trying to get my head around the feat of fitness I am currently faced with, I clocked the London to Paris. My ridiculous mind was ENVIOUS (I know) of the September challenge I hadn’t signed up to, and stropping about the one I had. How naïve to think a 200 mile bike ride, and the training required for said ride, is something to be envious of. I now liken it to the romance novel that you wistfully dive into, only to find a few pages in that it’s kind of tedious and much more of a slog than you are willing to invest. A love affair of sorts. Maybe.

That being said, I really wanted to do it. Really, really really. But giving up on the Great North Run for the London to Paris felt out of the question, because surely a challenge isn’t a challenge if you can breeze it? The thought of running a half marathon still terrifies me, which is precisely why instead of calling up to switch, I called up… to sign up… to both.

BOTH!? (Shrieks my cake/sofa/wine-loving self)

Both. And now I’ve got a form, a running vest and a cycling top that says I’m IN. And the small matter of a fundraising target of nearly TWO THOUSAND POUNDS to warrant my place on these two challenges which, combined, are up there with burning the tops of my feet trying to be an Olympian and scarring myself for life in the process in terms of ridiculousness.

Oh, did I not mention?

THESE CHALLENGES ARE SIX DAYS APART.

SIX.

DAYS.

Oz Bikes

Most of the time it makes me want to run under the duvet with a chocolate cake, while simultaneously burning my trainers and changing into my onesie. But very VERY occasionally, after a good ride or run, I sense that I’m onto something amazing here. That if I do it, not only will it be the greatest achievement of my life to date, I can prove to my Dad wrong in his theory that I come out with hundreds of wonderful/crazy ideas on a weekly basis and as such will never see a single one of them through.

That, and I WILL NEVER HAVE TO DO ANYTHING LIKE IT EVER AGAIN.

I’m jesting, but of course the real reason is because living with this thing is utterly shit sometimes. It defies you, it laughs at you, it refuses to play nicely, and then just when you think you’ve sent it away for a few hours, it comes back with all its equally shitty mates and makes light of the fact it’s quite frankly crapping on your otherwise lovely existence. But the people that can help make this thing go away once and for all – probably not for us, but for our children, or our children’s children – are the charities that work every single day to find a cure. And while that’s just a little bit out of reach, they work and will continue to work to make life easier for us, and to help other people who just don’t get it understand that this is quite difficult. It’s difficult on day one, and it’s difficult on day 10,001. I don’t want young people to feel that they’re different from their friends. I don’t want people to have to count every ounce of food they eat, or have to stick needles in themselves multiple times a day. I know I can’t change this – I’m not on a one woman crusade – but there are scientists and big intelligent good people out there who one day in the not incomprehensibly distant future, just might.

Soooooo… as of last week, I’m officially on a training plan. I’ve been dicking about with the odd 10k and a weekend cycle here or there, but from here on in, I’m locked. No turning back. I’m putting down the cake. I’m putting on my flouro jacket. I’m measuring pace. I’m learning about gait, intervals, cleats, hybrids and carb gels.

WHO IS THIS GIRL.

There are a few things I’m going to need between now and September.

- Firstly, I need a clue. Seriously.

- Then, I need more lycra. Ohh so much more lycra. Apparently I need padded shorts. And stuff. Which will be interesting (see above point about needing a clue).

- I need training tips from fitness gurus who actually have a clue.

- I need a watchful eye over me as I shift gear (geddit?!) on my training and my blood sugar control goes MENTAL as a result. It’s going to happen. Actually, I need a watchful eye over me FULL STOP as I embark on this. Why? Well, despite being 25 years and 50 weeks old, I fell outside the tube station today like a four-year-old, ripping my tights and flashing my knickers to London’s finest commuters. Horror, you exclaim? No, this is the type of life I lead on two feet. IMAGINE what’s going to happen on two wheels, 200 miles in.

I know you probably can’t help me with these things. But as I navigate this absolute diabetes minefield, you can say nice things (I CANNOT TELL YOU HOW MUCH THEY ARE GOING TO HELP GET MY ASS OUT OF BED AND INTO MY TRAINERS). I’ll hopefully entertain you on the way with a plethora of unflattering photos, videos and general escapades as I batter my body and actually start saying no to alcohol-based social events.

*weeps*

One more teeny weeny thing that you can help with PREEEETTTTYYYY PPPLEEEASSSEEE…

(You knew it was coming)

If you have ever experienced what life’s like for someone whose existence is dependent on needles, finger pricks, endless counting, daily frustrations, life-limiting complications and a cool 20 years knocked off your life expectancy, you might want to be a wonderful person and donate just a small amount to the cause. If you haven’t experienced that stuff and don’t really care for it but think, as I do, that what I’m doing is slightly mental and would like to give me props for effort, you can also be a wonderful person and donate to the cause. (Yes, two donation links, just for emphasis).

In return I will hopefully keep you regularly amused with my tales of trying to be an ‘athlete’ (doubtful) when I really just I’d quite like to be on the sofa; fat, happy and eating cake.

LOVE YOU ALL xxx

Jen Again

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YFT1 Goes Drinking…

Posted by missjengrieves on May 8, 2013 in Videos

WATCH first, READ second…

…

Oh hi!

That was fun wasn’t it? Really hope you liked it; it marks an exciting gearshift for YFT1 – hopefully lots more where that came from!

I wanted to make this video because, as ever, I think it’s really important to emphasise that life doesn’t have to stop because of Type 1. I do everything my friends do and more – which isn’t at all about saving the world or flying aeroplanes, but simply doing exactly what my friends are doing… enjoying life. No biggie for them, and hopefully not so much of a biggie for those of us with a defunct pancreas. And that, a lot of the time, includes alcohol. Glorious, oft sugar-laden alcohol.

Hmm.

There are a few things in the vid that I think need a wee bit of explaining. Firstly, for the lovely non-diabetics out there who watched (that’s one, you say? Hi, Dad) but don’t understand what the numbers on that screen mean (and why would you), that little meter is the single most important tool we have in knowing whether we’re anywhere along the right lines of getting this complicated disease in any way right. It tells us whether we need to eat, inject, exercise, or curl up in a ball and lay very very still for a while. Sometimes the numbers are what we expect, but sometimes the numbers make you want to throw the thing out of the window. The elusive, dreamy, magical figures that we’re desperate to see flash up after THE LONGEST FIVE SECONDS EVER are anything between 4 and 9. Low and behold the over-dramatised (and slightly tipsy) ‘OH NO!’ for a 16.7. Not what you want. A little too high or a little too low is generally fine (I was delighted with the 10.9 on the tube home), but stray too far and you risk running into problems. Short term; you’re tired and can’t concentrate. Long term; you’re blind. Super.

But equally if you get a reading nearer the lower end hours before the next meal, it may LOOK wonderful but experience tells me it’s more than likely I’m going to crash before it’s time to eat again. So that reading of 6.8 one hour after lunch allowed me to go in HARD on a Peanut Butter KitKat Chunky. Bliss.

YFT1 Goes Drinking

Other disclaimers include:

I know I had a very small amount of insulin that day. Tiny, tiny, in fact. Most days, surviving on a cereal bar and a salad all day goes against my religion (Food. Food is my religion), but that’s just how the day went. And that’s kind of the point – in that it was different from my normal routine; outside of the counting carbs, cals and units us lot are generally bound by, but I managed just fine, and being type 1 was not a factor in whether or not a lack of grub was an issue. I didn’t have time to eat after running because Mark’s arrival was imminent, and I left him hanging at the tube station for 10 minutes (after a 4 hour journey) without reaching for my standard bowl of breakfast porridge, so I just ran out the door. But I knew my blood sugar was a lovely 9.9, and I knew we would be eating pretty quickly (food is high on our agenda. It might be why we’re friends) so I therefore knew, that with my trusty cereal bars in tow, I would be fine.

Likewise, I ate the cereal bar without injecting before my run because 4.8 is bordering on the low side, and I knew I was about to exercise and burn more energy. I think if I hadn’t eaten it I may have been in trouble, particularly because despite the searing heat, this idiot chose to wear a winter hoodie and thus was hotter THAN THE SUN on that run. Yes, heat = sweat = energy consumption = greater chance of a hypo. So much fun isn’t it?

The final disclaimer has nothing to do with diabetes. It’s purely about pride. VEIN SHALLOW PRIDE.

*senses your judgement*

I did NOT invite Mark alllll the way down to London to take him to one establishment that you can find anywhere in the country (absolutely no offence intended here; it was wonderful to us on the night. It just doesn’t scream ‘London’ does it?). We were meeting old friends that we used to work with, who were holding a function at said establishment. Although IMAGINE our delight at discovering they have a 2 for 1 mix and match cocktail offer on a FRIDAY!?! This NEVER happens. And goes a long way to explaining the lunges, that’s for sure.

Lunges aside the demand for, and resulting availability of, ‘skinny’ cocktails in an increasingly health-conscious world is an absolute diabetic’s dream. Diet coke a go go. So drink up people! I would put a ‘drink responsibly’ disclaimer in here but we’re talking about real life here, and in real life people get DRUNK. Just don’t sue me, thanks.

P.S. I’d be interested to know if anyone else can go to town on prosecco with very little effect on blood sugars whatsoever? It happens to be my favouritest of favourite most favourable drinks, so HAPPY DAYS to me and my type 1 self.

Cheers to that.

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Cycling To Work In London Town

Posted by missjengrieves on May 2, 2013 in Diabetes in General

Today I took the plunge and decided to join the rat race on two wheels. Gulp.

IT WAS WONDERFUL.

(That’s the conclusion. You don’t need to read the rest of this now).

*yelps* Staayyyy!

I am completely and utterly obsessed with my bike. It’s a 100% head over heels love affair of the best kind. The freedom, the wind in your hair kinda vibe, the exhilaration, the actual FLYING you do downhill after groaning all the way up as your thighs burn and your teeth grit, the ridiculous satisfaction that comes from putting yourself in the correct gear soas to make it over the brow of a hill rather than toppling into the gutter at the first sight of an incline. It’s just incomparable. And of course it’s doing some lovely things for my blood sugars. We diabetics know that exercise is something we *should* do in order to win the good fight against a broken pancreas, and as such it’s usually the first thing to rebel against. But clambering onto my bike in the most ungracious manner of a morning doesn’t feel like a chore, like something I *should* be doing at all. It feels like some sort of all-conquering revolution against the endless counting, measuring and plotting we do to stay upright every day. Not one second on my bike do I spend thinking about my type 1 existence. It’s therapy for the mind, and for the soul.

Ok, I think I’ve made my point. Cycling rocks.

It’s always been this way, sort of. One of my earliest memories is of my Dad teaching me how to ride without stabilisers in the back garden. From my very first bright pink stabiliser number, with a basket on the front and a chair on the back for my favourite doll, to my first ‘grown up’ bike at the age of maybe eight – a magenta pink Apollo Pulse (Apollo is still going strong, btw) that gleamed in the sun and allowed me to keep up with my brothers as we raced through the fields near the house – I have absolutely wonderful memories of being on two wheels. But it’s something that I’ve neglected as an adult, apart from a short stint during my ‘turn’ as a village bumpkin in Yorkshire. Cycling in the capital was something I’d fleetingly thought about once or twice, but dodging traffic is pretty tricksy in this city as a pedestrian, let alone as a cyclist. So out of my head it went again.

But my trip to Australia in January and an impromptu bike ride one sunny evening over there stirred something in me, and within a week of landing back on the freezing UK soil, I had bought myself a shiny new toy. When I walked into the shop I had quite frankly ridiculous ideas of being one of those cool hipster cyclists; meandering along the streets of this fair city in normal everyday clothes, not breaking so much as a single bead of sweat, with a wicker basket on the front and sunny disposition akin to a Julie Andrews musical.

Walking out of the shop with a 20 inch beast in my hands (EY OH), it was immediately apparent that I was in fact going to be a huffing, puffing, panting, neon & lycra wearing, face covered in mud kind of rider who burns calories and gets a sweat on. I’m Ridin’ Dirty, like Chamillionaire baby. (Whooooo?)

I’ve never been so happy to get out of bed at 6.30am on a Saturday. At this beautiful hour, London is just waking up and I can claim the streets as entirely MINE. ALL MINE. Well, mine, alongside a few ravers, the street cleaners and a dustbin truck or two. But on the whole it’s like you’re privy to some magical, wonderful  secret. Passing markets setting up their stalls, hearing the world wake up and feeling like you’re experiencing a London that no one else has seen is pretty special.

Lovely London

GUSH GUSH GUSH.

I’ve avoided the work commute until this point because I was enjoying life on two wheels as a leisure activity – taking my time, taking in the sights, getting lost seeing more in two hours on the bike than I would in two days/weeks/months ordinarily. But with a pretty daunting cycling-based challenge looming (more on that very soon) in five months, it’s time to up the ante. And what is there to like, really, about cramming like a tinned sardine onto a sweaty tube with your nostrils squished rather unfortunately into a stranger’s armpit? Welcome to the Northern Line everybody.

Onto the best benefit a type 1 can ask for… cycling is freaking AMAZING for blood sugars in my experience. Super duper wonderful awesome great. Mostly because I’ve discovered it’s highly unlikely I will have a hypo while out cycling, which gives me one less thing to be nervous about. Even on rides* that have lasted in excess of three hours (*ride. That’s only happened once), I haven’t needed any extra sugar, although I’ve always got that trusty cereal bar in my pocket, plus my debit card and ID incase I get into a pickle. Safety first, kids. What it WILL do is keep my metabolism up for a good 24 hours after I’ve got OFF the bike, and as a result my insulin doses are massively reduced. CHER-CHING. I also think this has a LOT to do with why my HbA1c came back in the 7s for the first time in a good couple of years last week, despite my existence being increasingly alcohol and carbohydrate-fuelled. I told you… magic.

So, having set my alarm only 15 minutes earlier than normal this morning, I hopped onto my beloved (oh WOW, the innuendos today) donning my finest flouro and went on my merry way in the GLORIOUS morning sunshine, reassured by a waking blood sugar of 8.4 and loaded up with emergency cereal bars, of course.

Bloody cereal bars.

I was tempted to have a little something to eat before I left without bolusing, but I’ve tried this before and the aforementioned slow burn of cycling, plus that wonderful dawn phenomenon that raises our sugars for no reason when we wake left me with a double-figured reading once I’d finished my route. Riding makes you thirsty enough; I didn’t want to be dealing with a high sugar as well, so I just got on the bike and started pedalling.

All The Gear

Yes folks, that IS what I look like first thing in the morning. Sorry about that.

Oh my it was sunny. SO sunny. I had air in my lungs (albeit London rush hour air, but it beats the armpit air any day) and I was AWAKE, as opposed to begrudgingly rolling out of bed, into the shower, onto the tube and arriving at work still not quite sure what day it is. No I was as bright as my luminous jacket, as comfy as the gorgeous Be An Athlete leggings I’d donned. These leggings, can I just say, are a dream to wear. They’re so soft, they moved with me and and I’m really hoping they stay that way after a few washes. That’s right, I’m now the girl that talks about sportswear and I own fluorescent clothing. I’m a changed woman.

It took me 35 minutes door to door (shorter in fact, than the sardine armpit journey), and thanks to a handy app on my phone I tracked exactly 10k. Me, myself, my city… and 5000 other cyclists. I soon learned that the cycling commuters are as ferocious as those barging their way onto the tube – if you don’t go the SECOND that green light tells you to, you’re going to get trampled like Simba among the hyenas. Poor, poor Simba.
The Ratpack

Navigating the trucks/buses/super-fast cyclists was no different than normal. And because there were SO many of us in the two-wheel pack setting off at each light, I feel like there was actually less chance of a car not noticing me than normal. *Adopts David Attenborough voice* Witness, the fluorescent herd, united by their mode of transport, divided by their mode of transport. GET OUT OF THE WAY RIDICULOUS HIPSTER CYCLIST WITH NO HELMET AND EARPHONES IN SO YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT’S GOING ON AROUND YOU OR HOW CLOSE THAT ARTICULATED LORRY JUST CAME TO YOUR CHEEKBONE YOU ABSOLUTE MORON.

I was on cycle lanes as much as I was on the roads. I enjoyed posh London, green London, and just as I got to Hyde Park corner… I was greeted by a pretty impressive sight:

London is cool ain’t it? All this before 9am. Bike 1, Tube 0. I’d also like to point that I did shower upon my arrival to work.

So cycling to work Day 1 = SUCCESS. And as I type this at my desk, all that remains for me to do now is to adopt my fierce, fluoro, filthy Queen of the Road alter-ego and get myself home.

Made It!

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Well You Did Ask For It…

Posted by missjengrieves on April 17, 2013 in Videos

That’s right. #AskJen has arrived.

So a little while ago myself and Diabetes UK took to the Twittersphere to ask you for your funny, silly, serious, cheeky ANYTHING questions relating to life with Type 1, mostly to laugh (for once, godammit!) at the ridiculous things we find ourselves doing on a daily basis in order to keep our blood sugars within a normal range, but also in my silly little way to at least attempt to reach out to some of the people out there that feel quite isolated in their type 1 lives. The Diabetes online community has absolutely paved the way immeasurably for people to be able to talk about this stuff from others who get it – because sometimes even the most well-meaning of friends, parents and medical staff just don’t get it quite right. Thank you SO MUCH for your questions. Seriously, you rock.

So if you’ve got 10 minutes to spare (well, 17. Turns out I have absolutely no trouble talking about this stuff)  and want a bit of a giggle, sit back, relax and… just bear with me! It starts on a more serious note, but as you go through hopefully you’ll have a little chuckle at the screen. Stick with my waffle until the end and… after months of peer pressure from a certain few out there YOUKNOWWHOYOUARE… please ‘enjoy’ the animal-based impression at the end. Ok good.

*DISCLAIMER* – said animal impression is going to be SUCH a disappointment for you all.

If you understandably don’t have 17 minutes to spare to watch me wang on, here’s a handy little breakdown of all the questions answered. Nifty hey?

01:04 – “I’m 18. Do you feel completely different to other people knowing you can’t do a lot of things they can?

04:00 – “Ever had a hypo at an awkward or embarrassing moment?

07:52 – “What D magic power is your most boast-worthy?

09:18 – “What’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said to someone while hypo?

11:23 – “Have you ever used D as an excuse when it wasn’t really the reason?

13:04 – “Have you ever panic over-treated a hypo and if so what was the most you ever ate?

14:41 – “Have you got any of those lumps from injecting in the same place?

16:32 – BONUS FOOTAGE! #meerkatjen

Enjoy! xxx

Watch the video for this, amongst other striking visuals...

Watch the video for this, amongst other striking visuals…

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This.

Posted by missjengrieves on April 11, 2013 in Just Quickly...

I’ve been utterly shite at being a diabetic this week.

Fail.

*sulks*

So if you ever get frustrated because it’s dampening your otherwise happy existence, this one’s for you.

(And no, it has nothing to do with the Maltesers below. Honest.)

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Food. For. Thought.

Posted by missjengrieves on April 10, 2013 in Just Quickly...

She says – working her way through a egg/chicken/betroot/mushroom-based dream.

This needs a type 2 distinction (GAH), but on the whole, this article is preeettttyyyy interesting.

http://jeromeburne.com/2013/04/10/we-know-how-to-cut-diabetes-deaths-so-why-arent-we-doing-it/

Thanks to Joe for the tweet.

And thank you all SO much for your amazing #AskJen responses – they really made me smile. The inane stuff we have to deal with is just as interesting and important as the bigger, wider issues and one thing I can definitely say is that none of us are alone in this.

Video coming soooooon!

x

P.S. Keeping with the food theme (when is life NOT about food?! OINK) – this is currently sitting on the desk opposite me at work. HELP.

Yummy, yummy, everywhere....

Yummy, yummy, everywhere….

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#AskJen

Posted by missjengrieves on March 6, 2013 in Diabetes in General

Now then.

You’d be forgiven for not knowing that I’m a video blogger for the lovely people at Diabetes UK. Firstly, I’m fully aware you’ve all got better things to be doing. But mostly because I haven’t done a video in **** months. I can’t even bring myself to write it. Poor wonderful Joe and the team insist it’s fine, but it kind of isn’t. Put it this way, I had my hair drastically lopped off in September (you’ll understand when you get to the bottom of the post), and I haven’t video blogged with short hair as yet.

*Weeps for long lost locks and ability to write vlog scripts*

SO…

It’s time to make a video, and I need your help!

Basically, it’s pretty clear that I’m a fan of talking… and talking… and talking. The problem with a chronic illness like diabetes, and many others, is that often people don’t like to talk about it. But that can leave us feeling pretty rubbish – I often think I’m failing when I’m really really not, and even though I know this when I record a glucose of 17.2, I sit there and squirm and stew and huff and puff and let it temporarily dampen my otherwise very happy day. One other thing I’m damn sure of is that I’m not alone in my blood sugar/insulin/HbA1c related frustrations.

So, with the help of a nifty little hashtag (we know you love ‘em), my next video is going to be comprised of answers to questions you realllllly want to know about diabetes, but are scared to ask out loud. I’m not talking the medical stuff here, HELL NO I am not the one you want answers from about that (I have a disclaimer and everything). This is about the fun stuff (what’s your hypo cure of choice?), the embarrassing stuff (did you have an unfortunate bathroom ‘incident’ before you were diagnosed? That one’s a yes), the stupid stuff (tell us an awkward diabetes-related dating story? So SO many)… you get the idea. Maybe stuff that you don’t even consider out of the ordinary because it’s a daily thing for you and your Type 1 world, but outside our little bubble it’s completely crackers, and you simply want to be reassured that you’re not the only one that pours Lucozade on her macbook in the pitch black at 4am as she’s trying to sort a hypo but is so low she can’t tell her brain to lift her arm to her mouth.

Yup. That stuff.

Myself and the DUK team will pick a lovely mixture of the best, most probing, most embarrassing and most thought-provoking questions, and I’ll whack them all together in a lovely video. Lovely.

In return for your time and your questions, I hereby solemnly vow to answer them all completely honestly, and most likely in a ridiculous manner that makes me look like something of a visual moron.

So if you want the below civilised, dignified and upstanding member of society to tell you what she knows about living with this blaaaaady disease, jump on Twitter and #AskJen!!

See? Just breathtaking.

See? Just breathtaking.

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Talking Type 1 On The Radio

Posted by missjengrieves on March 4, 2013 in Me Chatting D In The Press

Phew.

Just did a mad five minutes (if that!) on The Mark Forrest Show which goes out on the local BBC networks across the UK, talking about the differentiation between Type 1 and Type 2 diabetes. This is something I know a lot of people get frustrated about when we’re nonchanlently put together like some sort of weird club of slobby, lazy overeaters.

The hook for the show was ‘If you get diagnosed with diabetes – is it your fault?’ This is quite a sweeping, almost dangerous hook for a feature but I suppose the idea is to get people talking, and that sentence seems to have done that alright. The feature comes from this story in the news today about the rising cost to the NHS (we know, we know).

I poured out my feelings about this issue at length after watching a Channel 4 documentary called The Hospital, which aired back in 2010 when this blog was a wee baby. Although it was three years ago, it remains one of my most talked about posts to date, probably because there is some serious raw emotion in there about the issue. I just read it back – apparently I had some strong feelings to express! Most importantly though, three years later I stand by it entirely. Give it a read, especially as just like any other time I speak about this subject in a live environment, there’s a lot in there I wish I’d said.

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