Oatmeal.
Oats are a rich source of sleep inducing melatonin. Try a small bowl of warm cereal with a splash of maple syrup. Delicious, makes you feel you want to cozyup .. And go to sleep.

Almonds.
A handful of these heart-healthy nuts contain both tryptophan and a good dose of muscle-relaxing magnesium.

Flaxseeds.
Try sprinkling 2 tablespoons of these healthy little seeds on your bedtime oatmeal. They’re rich in omega-3 fatty acids which is a natural mood lifter.

Whole-wheat bread.
A slice of toast with your tea and honey will release insulin, which helps tryptophan get to your brain, where it’s converted to serotonin and quietly murmurs “time to sleep.”

Turkey.
It’s the most famous source of tryptophan though getting the stuff to work is easier when your stomach’s empty-ish rather than when not stuffed, and when there are some carbs around, not loads of protein.
Put a lean slice or two on some wholewheat bread, at mid-evening and you’ve got one of the best sleep inducers to be found in your kitchen.

Lemon Balm
This lemon-scented member of the mint family has been known for its sleep-inducing properties since Noah was a lad. Other benefits of using it is that it aids digestion and decreases agitation in the stomach.
Try making lemon balm tea by steeping 1 to 2 teaspoons of the dried herb in 1 cup of hot water for 5 to 10 minutes although if you take thyroid medicines talk to you doctor first as drinking the tea could mean you’ll have to adjust your dosage.)

Other Herbs
Sage, also works as a natural sleep aid. Just steep 4 tablespoons in a cup of hot water, for four hours, strain, and reheat to drink.
Chamomile tea and valerian teas, other sleep inducers, are also more widely available ready- bagged in natural food stores.

C 2011 Joe Hepworth SnorBan UK Ltd

Mr D Dunning  Blandford Forum

C 2011 Joe Hepworth SnorBan UK Ltd

‘Nasal strips don’t work,” he said. ” Operations have, at best, a very limited success.
Sprays don’t have any great effect although nasal steroids have a small role if you’ve got nasal congestion. It can help to lose weight or avoid alcohol last thing at night or to sleep lying on your side.”

He then went on. “Various forms of gumshield are reasonably successful – maybe 50 or 60 per cent,’ which confirms why we, at Snorban, are part of the NHS supply chain.

C 2011 Joe Hepworth SnorBan UK Ltd

A survey of 1,013 men and women found that:-

81 percent of the partners of snorers said they don’t get a good night’s sleep, are constantly tired, and are less than likely to have the energy for making love.

55 percent of snorers admitted that their snoring affected their sexual relationship, and

59 percent of their partners said the same. About one-third of couples said they hardly ever had sex because one of the partners snored.

Two-thirds of couples said they would make love more often if the snoring stopped.

88 percent of snorers and 85 percent of their partners said that their relationship would be better if the snoring was resolved.

In 2001 an American study of nearly 5,000 snoring patients found that a significant number of heavy snorers had reduced sex drive, and that more than half experienced erectile dysfunction.

Researchers said, to get some rest, 70 percent of snoring couples slept in separate bedrooms – one admitting to sleeping in a hammock in the spare room for 20 years.

The study found that most of the suffering partners were women. The most common problems reported by those who suffered from sleep loss due to snorers included being irritable, shouting, arguing with their partner and making mistakes at work.

Treating snoring may be as simple as wearing a mouth piece, but treating sleep apnoea needs medical advice.

C 2011 Joe Hepworth SnorBan UK Ltd

Mr R Lawrence Warrington

C 2011 Joe Hepworth SnorBan UK LTD

2011 J Hepworth SnorBan UK Ltd

Drink up your orange juice and bring your blood pressure down!

Two glasses of orange juice a day can lower blood pressure and cut the risk of heart disease, according to research.

Scientists found middle-aged men who drank half a litre (almost a pint) of juice every day for a month, equivolent to two medium glasses, saw a significant decline in their blood pressure readings.

The research, published in the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition, confirms that the ingredient responsible is a naturally occuring chemical called hesperidin. Although previous studies have hinted orange juice may be good for the heart, scientists have been uncertain exactly what gives it its protective powers.

The research suggests that consuming half a litre of orange juice  a day for four weeks could reduce average diastolic blood pressure by between 3 and 5 points.

C 2010 J Hepworth Snorban UK Ltd

Something made me looked left and there, sat on a doorstep, alone, was a little girl. She was about four, or maybe five. She wore a red and yellow dress, except the red was from blood and she held the right side of her face.

I got out of the car and knelt before her.  It was  then that I was able to see the severity her wound. Her cheek had been ripped from the corner of her mouth to her ear. It was horrific, yet she did not cry, she did not even murmur. She was probably in shock. She certainly did not know the extent of her injury.

A heard a voice beside me. It came from a young man dressed bizarrely in a bright blue military style jacket. He was trying to tell me something, but I could not understand him.

I picked up the girl, who seemed to know I wanted to help her and then said, “Doctor. He’s a doctor,” pointing at the car and at Peter.

The youth understood and what we were going to do for the child so he shouted to the crowd. They quietened down immediately.

“Where’s the hospital?” I asked.

“I  show you.”

“Get in then.”  And he did.

As I was getting in the car a middle aged woman dressed in black and very visibly distressed, ran up to the car.

“She’s her Aunt,” said the youth. “She must come with us.”

“Yes, yes,“ I said and she got in. “We need to get this girl to hospital but these guys won’t get out of the way.”

Peter said, “The way we do it in Germany is to jam a handkerchief in the side window. Then when people see it flying they know it’s an emergency and they let you through.”

So I did that. The crowd parted. It just parted. The men could not get out of the way quickly enough.

The aunt was distraught. She wept and wailed, blaming herself for everything repeating and repeating, in French, “the girl will die, the girl will die.”

“What happened back there?” I asked.

“One of the men,” said the young man, “was on motor bike. He catch the mouth of child on brake handle. They argue about who was fault. If is the man, then he pay for the medicals. Very expensive. He say the girl step in front of him, it not his fault. It not true. He go into her. I saw what happened.”

The girl still made not a sound. She held onto her cheek and kept looking at the road ahead.

The trick with the handkerchief worked. We were allowed to drive straight through.

The hospital when we got there, was on the outskirts of town down a dusty, unmade road. It was a series of long, single storied, rust coloured buildings. It looked like an army barracks.

The buildings were wards and from the looks of those in side, only for men. They stared out as if we were going to liberate them. Some lay in beds while others lay on the floor under or between. There were no nurses to be seen or even family to care of them. I thanked God for our English N.H.S.

We drove down till we came to a ‘clinic.’ It’s doors were open and inside I could see someone, a man, leaning over a bed. Two small legs kicked up and down up and down on it.

The man heard us and turned around.

The kicking legs beside him belonged to a small boy who from his crying and kicking was evidently not enjoying himself. He had a deep cut to his palm.

Behind us a teenage boy being carried by two friends, screamed in agony. His appendix had burst. The doctor came out from his ‘surgery’ and shouted to the boy’s friends to ‘find a wheel chair and take him as far away as you can. His noise is putting me off.’

The doctor turned back and re-approached the boy this time holding what must have seemed to the boy to be a very large needle. The boy was probably more upset from anxiety, than pain, for he had seen the fear in his father’s eyes.

I went into the surgery and up to the boy and said, “Hey there. Take it easy.” The boy looked at me for just long enough for the doctor to grab his hand and stick the needle in before the fighting recontinued. “Yoweeeee,” he screamed.

But such was not the case with our little girl. She still had not made a sound. When it was her turn her aunt picked her up and sat with her on the bed.

I left her and went out. A man approached me. He was with an elderly woman who, from the state of her heavily blooded skirt, was in severe trouble. “Please help us,” he begged me, speaking in French. “This is my Mother. She needs help. You look like you can tell people what to do. Please tell the doctor he must help us.”

I pointed the doctor to the woman. There was little I could do.

Then I saw a cloud of dust and a jeep coming from the entrance gate. In it were three policemen and a man who leapt out before the thing had stopped. He ran toward me and the surgery. It was the little girl’s father. Only now when she saw him did she cry… as they both did.

It took some time to stitch up her wound. When it was done Peter suggested the doctor gave the girl some penicillin. “Monsieur, maybe in your country. Here we pay for it.”

“So please give her some.”

“What I have is not for you. You must go to the chemists.”

C 2010 J Hepworth SnorBan UK Ltd

So last February I came to a conclusion.

“Got to look snappy for Goodwood,” I said to my wife, Claudette. “The season’ll be here soon. Got to look good.”

“How about a bright waistcoat?” she said.

“Great idea!” I said enthusing to it. “With my tum I’ll be able to show it off in all its glory.”

“I’ll see what I can find on e-bay.”

A little while later her screen is showing a fine range of waistcoats, in all the colours of the world. There’s a nice one in apricot, which would go really well with one of my jackets.

It arrived in the mail. We undid its wrappings, took it out and smoothed it down.

It was enormous. Big enough for an elephant’s ground sheet, or nest for a family of hippopotami. It could have sailed Nelson to Trafalgar. But the buttons were fabric and the material was silk and the colour was good. It was just the size of the thing. I didn’t know they made tents to look like waistcoats.

“It’s not really worth sending back,” said Claudette. “Try it on.”

It fitted me like a glove.

****

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