Back in the room!

A short break brought on by ill health has made me realise just how good it feels to be back, tapping away and feeling like my old self again.

Audio version (above)

I don't write about myself. I write about plants, gardening, gardens I’ve visited, and, from time to time, the odd story. But I don’t write about me. The observant of you lovely people might be aware that I’ve not written on here for a good few months. I've written my column for Amateur Gardening magazine and a handful of commissions for other gardening magazines, but that’s it. Many of you have messaged me - Where are you? What's going on? Have you been abducted by aliens? Why aren’t you writing?

So, firstly, my heartfelt thanks to all of you who’ve sent messages. And secondly, my apologies for the rather vague responses.

So, wha’s (been) occurring?”

September 2025

Have you ever laid in bed on Christmas night, head spinning from one too many eggnogs, hands rubbing an extended, bloated and slightly uncomfortable belly after too much turkey, half expecting Trixie from Call the Midwife to push through the bedroom door, bearing hot water and towels, ready to deliver the festive food baby? I don’t generally overindulge, but that’s where the story starts, in September. I remember the day clearly. I’d been bought a caffè latte-grande - there’s posh, served in what I can only describe as the equivalent of a ceramic mixing bowl; I could have practically dived into it. An hour later, I was to be found ensconced in the smallest room of the house, as my stomach declared independence.

The next day, my stomach and I still not on speaking terms, I ignored its rumbling protests - I’m a bloke, of course that’s what I did! But it persisted.

As the weeks passed, the protests gathered force, accompanied now by panicky sprints back to the porcelain throne. Finally(!), a visit to my local GP put my mind at ease. Having kneaded by rather sore stomach like a piece of dough, she announced (ta-dah!), it was probably a gallstone.

“Eat more fruit and vegetables, and drink more water,” she instructed, peeling off her blue latex gloves, “And we’ll get you scanned to make sure.”

Thirty minutes later, I stumbled out of M&S, bag crammed to bursting with apples, pears, bananas, grapes, broccoli, carrots, and cabbage - I don't do things by half! Back home, I lay with my mouth agape under a running tap and chomped my way through a pantry-full of fruit and vegetables. But still my stomach complained.

Lots of this…. Photo by Sara Scarpa on Unsplash

October 2025

Stomach lubed-up like an expectant mother, the midwife nurse manoeuvred the ultrasound scanner across my stomach. No stones, not even a tiny spot of gravel, and thankfully, no blurry baby kicking a plump leg. The furrow-browed doctor chewed on the inside of her cheek, before suggesting a selection of samples be provided for testing - oh the glamour of it all. I’d always been quite good with tests at school, and my luck persisted, with all results coming back with approving nods. But, still no cause identified.

It was suggested I cut out possible irritants, including chocolate, bread, cake, fatty foods, and alcohol. I complied - of course I did.

And not so much of this…Photo by Jonathan Borba on Unsplash

November 2025

I meet with a specialist gastroenterologist. More blood tests were arranged - special ones where they look for everything. A CT scan was arranged. The scary ‘C’ word was placed carefully into our exchange, along with those hateful words ‘you are a man of a certain age’ - I gulped back a trepidatious lump in my throat; my mother succumbed to stomach cancer when she was my age now, and I can’t say it hadn’t crossed my mind.

The day before the CT scan I found a battery for the bathroom scales, and stepped on, and then off very quickly. I stepped on again, stooping down in disbelief at the reading. I’d lost over a stone since I’d last weighed myself, at least three months ago. I reeled back in shock. ‘Flip’, or a word to that effect. Panic took hold.

Two weeks later, my phone rang - withheld number written across the screen.

“Mr Palmer? Mike? It’s good news - it’s not cancer. The CT scan is completely clear, no sign of cancer, but…..”

My heart raced, involuntarily, “Yes?”

“You’ve tested positive for Coeliac Disease. You’re allergic to wheat and gluten,” he explained.

I felt my knees buckle beneath me, not from fear, but absolute and total joy. So fixated had I been on my mother’s stomach cancer, I’d totally forgotten my father’s wheat and gluten allergy. It was many, many years ago, and I don't recall the word coeliac being used. I do remember the small brown black loaves he was sent on prescription, and the need for dad to change his diet.

I was instructed to continue with a diet including wheat and gluten until I’d had two necessary procedures; a colonoscopy and a gastroscopy - more glamour!

The worst part of the colonoscopy, as some of you may know, is the ‘bowel preparation’; mine branded ‘Klean-Prep’ - enough said! The next morning, my sparkly bowel and I met with the camera-wielding consultant. It did look very clean - no Klingons from the planet Uranus, and most importantly, the biopsies presented as clear. Phew!

Christmas Eve

How did you spend Christmas Eve? Mine lying in Bournemouth hospital, with a camera down my throat. I’d been offered ‘sedation’, but as lovely as the doctors and nurses were, I wasn’t keen on spending Christmas Eve in hospital, so said I’d be fine. And I was, mostly, but it’s not pleasant. Again, nothing sinister found and the biopsies also clear.

2nd January 2026

Christmas and New Year’s wheat and gluten-filled festivities completed, I embarked upon my new eating regime. Things have changed a lot since the days of the grim, dark-brown Juvela gluten-free bread my father endured. There are supermarket aisles dedicated to ‘free-from’ products, including a great selection of breads, rolls, cakes, biscuits, pasta, breakfast cereals, and more. And, if like me, before September, you wonder why restaurants insist upon asking about allegies these days, it’s because there’s a much greater awareness of all allergies or food intolerances. Many, but not all, restaurants offer gluten-free meals, or alternatives. Takeaway restaurants offer gluten-free options, there are books dedicated to gluten-free baking and cooking, alongside pages upon pages of social media groups offering advice, information, guidance and recipes, and lots more. Coeliac UK is a great organisation and well worth becoming a member for more help, online workshops and access to coeliac specialist dieticians.

The biggest change for me is shopping. This new kid on the block has to interrogate all ingredient listings on all packaged food for telltale signs of the hidden nasties. In the UK, allergens must be shown in bold print under the ingredients. ‘BROWS’ has become my new mantra - Barley, Rye, Oats, Wheat and Spelt, which I must be avoid at all costs. Also, the words ‘may contain wheat/gluten’ must also be shown on UK food products, which should be gluten-free, but, might share a factory or production line where gluten and wheat containing products are made, meaning the risk of cross contamination may occur - so no guarantees.

Cross contamination is another ball-game. There’s potential for wheat and gluten to creep in on a shared toaster, or from jams, butters, and soft cheeses, as examples, where a kitchen knife may have been used to spread butter on ‘normal’ bread before being dipped back into the butter for a second time.

I’m just a month in, so it’s all new, a bit overwhelming, at times, but I’ll be fine - I’m a quick learner. I've decided to flip this on its head and focus on the many, many foods I can eat, including fruits, vegetables, meats, fish, eggs, dairy, grains and starches, pulses, nuts and seeds.

If you live with Coeliac Disease (I do wish they’d just call it Coeliac and drop the ‘disease’ part) please drop me a reply. Any tips or advice for a newbie most gratefully accepted.

If, like me, you’re new to this, then do ask me questions about my experience so far. It can be daunting, of course, but a positive mindset really does help.

And finally - thank you to the very small handful of fellow Ceoliacs I know from our wonderful gardening community who’ve been brilliant sharing their stories and helpful snippets, already. You know who you are!

There will be more great, gardening, content coming very soon, so watch this space.

Back in the room - tapping and feeling like my old-self