Obviously I never thought about this before.  What with being young*, and thin and fit, and eating healthily and all,  heart attacks weren't up there on my list of things to consider. It's fair to say that what plans I did have for my immediate future did not involve angiograms, statins and beta blockers.
Hey, times change. Here's today's news.  I've had some motivation, time and opportunity to consider  Non Systemic Mycardial Infarctions, and I can tell you this; recovering from a heart attack is phenomenally boring.  

I don't know if excitement is technically Bad for Me, but it's in short supply living within the terms and conditions of my release from hospital.

I may not
Drive a car. Any car, not a rally car, not a 4x4 off roader, not a family saloon, not even a Reliant Robin.  This is because the DVLA are quite clear that  sometime in the next four weeks I am likely to have a further heart attack whilst at the wheel.  Nice thought non? Moving swiftly on from that, let's just say living in the sticks without transport is not possible.

Walking over 100 yards is not recommended. There was great rejoicing when I  managed a 50 yard stroll with dog yesterday. Hold the front page  though.  The bus stop is 100 yards away.

Move loads.  On the plus side a hoover or bucket of soapy water is deemed to be a load.  On the downside, the novelty of not cleaning fairly wears off after two weeks of living with a moulting dog and 14 year old - not that the cherub is moulting mind you; he  just leaves a trail of debris behind him. He's 14, he can't help it. It's in his contract.

Putting it together then,  my verboten list includes, shopping of any type, getting to the doctor, deer hunting, trapeze  and freestyle dance routines, bathing the dog, travelling to Cannes, hanging out the washing, gardening, air travel, drag racing, returning books to library, getting to a cinema, changing the bed linen (FFS, really), walking around Roslin chapel or the East Neuk, or Dalmeny estate, or Craigie Woods, or anywhere I would want to walk the mutt, swimming, paragliding, kickboxing, eating at McDonalds, travelling to my spiritual homelands of Glasgow, TK Max or Bali.  I could go on, but it's getting depressing already.

Suffice to say, I will not be checking out Mr Beastie's blog.  Scarlet Blue's already comes with a medical warning....

*Listen up, technically  50 is YOUNG. You 35 year olds take note of how time creeps up on you now....