The advantage of sitting in a deserted waiting room meant that I was first up and into the system. The old cast was removed, the stitches taken out, and a new cast fitted. This time I did get a choice of colours, I chose red to honour the British and Irish Lions Rugby Union team.

Scar

What that doesn’t show is the “seam” about the thickness of a pencil down the leg. The foot is rather puffier and more bloated than I’d imagined it would be.

Red cast

Then it was straight on to the X-Ray department for a short wait and another X-Ray, before back to the “Fracture Clinic” and a consultation with the Surgeon who performed the procedure. He seemed quite pleased with the progress, but wants me to wait a further four weeks before the cast comes off and work on the rehab can begin. So that’ll be in time for the Winter Solstice, then.

3 weeks on

It’s a smaller hospital than the one I was initially treated in, and the particular unit where the clinic was held seems like quite a new building, everything was quick and efficient. There was a warning in the X-Ray department that as they were rolling out the news computerised PACS system there might be some delays, but they seemed to be rattling though customers at a rate of knots whilst I was there.

As soon as I emerged from the Consultation there was a driver waiting for me, we collected another patient and departed, avoiding the traffic leaving the racecourse, dropped the other patient at a Quite A Posh Nursing Home in Old Windsor, and used local knowledge to out-wit the evening school-run traffic to make it home in time for tea and muffins.

It’s still another four f*@$£%g weeks on crutches, though.

I’ve taken to wearing a small rucksack, so that I can carry small items around the house; I use a thermos flask to take hot drinks upstairs, and I’m getting very very good at balancing on one leg. In the kitchen, if I position a stool in the right place I can get stuff out of the refrigerator and into the microwave, use the sink and kettle without too much effort. The problems arise when I have to delve deeply into the low-level cupboards.

Everything seems to take so much longer and requires much more effort. Just taking a shower becomes a tiresome logistical exercise, and at the end of it I need to lie down for a snooze. Keeping my leg elevated has been a problematic exercise and has led to some unexpected issues. I had been getting terrible pains in my shoulders, achy rheumatic pains which I initially put down to the duvet slipping off my shoulders in the night owing to the elevated leg. Tried analgesics, muscle-warming sprays, microwavable heat-pads and TENS all to no effect. Then one afternoon, lying down for a siesta, I lay on the bed, perfectly flat, no pillows under the leg and almost immediately things were much better. So that’s my dilemma, ignore the advice and be comfortable or suffer. I’m going for comfort.

Gave up on self-injecting Fragmin (supposed to prevent post-operative blood clots) as it was just too much of a mind-bender. I don’t do needles at the best of times and being expected to self-inject with no training or preparation was too much. My Sister (herself a senior nurse at a leading London Hospital) has advised me to write a letter of complaint about my treatment to the Director of Nursing.

I have an out-patients appointment on Friday, for which they are supposed to provide transport. I’m hoping that the cast will come off and I’ll get an ankle brace or boot and be allowed to do some light load-bearing, but I’m not sure that the NHS goes for such “progressive” treatment. There’s a whole lot of pottering around in the garden I want to do. I could ask someone to come and do it, but well, it’s my garden and I want to do it myself, my way.

Right, that’s enough moaning for one day, must be time for another snooze.

Hobbled into A&E and up to Reception. It’s about midnight. Tell my story to the receptionist, who tells me to take a seat and wait for the nurse. She suggests I call the police and report the incident, which I do whilst looking around the room. Only six or so people, several of whom appear to be together so shouldn’t be a long wait. Call 999 explain the situation and where I am, they give me a reference number and tell me to call back when I get home. Nurse calls me into her room makes a cursory check and sends me back out to continue waiting. Very thirsty so I hobble over to a vending machine and buy a coke. Now aware that my left eye is starting to hurt. Time passes. The police call several times to ask if I am home yet.

At 2 AM I am called through into A&E and it becomes clear I can’t walk any further, the duty Dr/Nurse/Whatever grabs a wheelchair and takes me into a cubicle and onto a couch. Much poking and prodding ensues. I get an ECG and lights are shone into eyes. Repeat tale of the evening several times to much sympathy. Get wheeled down to X-Ray. Repeat story to radiographer as he does my ankle. Two images, have to lie on my side for the second one, which annoys my ankle no end. Back to the booth and the Doc soon reappears to tell me it’s broken but a “pretty clean break, low down”. A more senior Doc appears and we run through the evening’s events again. I’m to be retained as I need a plate inserting to stabilise the fracture, for now they’ll put a temporary cast on to stabilise it. I call home to let my mother know what’s what, forms get filled, boxes ticked next-of-kin details taken. A couple of nurses or technicians appear with the material to plaster up my ankle, which for some reason requires me to lie on my stomach. More poking prodding and form filling ensues as the plaster dries, I’m given a Glastonbury-style wristband, another X-ray to check the ankle has been set correctly, then I’m wheeled down to the ward arriving at about 5 AM, and transfer into bed, still in my clothes and my leg is raised up on a frame, and I get the first of very many blood pressure, pulse and temperature checks.

Hooked up to a drip I lie back and try to sleep or at least doze as the Hospital moves into wake-up mode. Drugs round followed by breakfast (not for me as I start the first of several ‘nil by mouth’ days waiting the call to theatre) washing (when I get a set of green hospital pyjamas) then ward rounds. The consultants look like stereotypical consultants are followed by stereotypical looking junior doctors and dispense stereotypical imperious prognoses. Not being able to sleep, I call the Police on the number I was given in the night (blimey you can use mobile phones in hospital wahay!). I am told they would like to interview me Right Now. Soon I am giving a statement to a police officer, we go over everything in several runs, he takes copious notes, his colleague collects my outer clothing to test ‘in case’ the assailants had left evidence. Finally he gives me a run through of the services available for witness protection and victim support. It was all very thorough and professional and far far better than I was expecting, given the frequent media outrage over alleged police inaction toward violent crime. The officer is not overly hopeful though as there is no direct CCTV coverage of that area and my somewhat vague descriptions do not match ‘The Usual Suspects’.

I drift through the day in a dozy haze of painkillers, various people come to prod and poke me, including several Ophthalmologists who shine very bright lights in my eye. I can’t see much as my glasses were lost in the night and I didn’t pick up a spare pair from home, and my left eye is very painful and closed. The eye drops the ophthalmologists used in diagnosis have dilated my pupils and made my (fairly) good eye sensitive to light, so I lie there almost blind. The final verdict is, no debris in the eye, but the cornea is scratched, eye drops are prescribed and will be followed up with out-patient checks. During all of this I get a CT scan of my head to check for fractures of the orbit. None are revealed. Unfortunately I couldn’t see much of what went on in CT which was a pity as I would have been quite interested. By late early evening I’m told I won’t make today’s list of operations so am released from NBM purdah. Although I have missed the dinner round a nice nurse rustles up some shepherds pie and a cup of tea.

Face

I am starting to become aware of my fellows on the ward. It’s a four-berth ward. I have a window-side location. The chap to my left has fallen from a ladder, Opposite him the bloke has had some sort of knee op, I’m not sure about the chap opposite me as he has his left leg raised, like mine, so I can see almost nothing of him. Drifting through the evening and into the night, fantastic nurses fuss around. Almost all seem to be either foreign or Asian-descended but British born. Mr Griffin ought to break a leg and find out just how stuffed we would be if his polices were ever to be implemented. I perfect the art of peeing into a cardboard bottle, and fervently hope I don’t need a number two. Friends are now discovering the news and phoning in general amazement and disbelief. I’m trying to balance battery life as I don’t have my charger, and account balance as I have a PAYG tariff.

It seems to be a very noisy night, not helped by having two elderly ladies with Alzhemiers in the ward across the corridor. One constantly calls for the nurse, unaware that having a catheter she does not need to worry about wetting the bed, the other appears to have a form of Tourettes and delivers a stream of abuse at the nurses. Her language is vile but delivered in a posh accent. If she wasn’t so posh she could pass for Mr Griffin’s mother. I have a second sleepless night.

Friday morning’s dawn chorus is the chirping of the blood-pressure monitor as the sequence begins again. I am NBM so can only watch the others consume breakfast. The day floats on through bed-baths, ward rounds, cleaners pop in and out. A trolley selling newspapers comes. I ambitiously buy one even though the pain in my eye is appalling. The ankle feels fine. I’m sure I could walk out of here at any time. An anaesthetist drops by to explain the risks and procedure for knocking me out and gets me to sign waiver forms. The afternoon brings my first visitor, John. By unhappy co-incidence I had visited him in Wycombe Hospital earlier in the year after he had a stroke (he has since made a full recovery) We chat about things and he leaves me some fruit I can’t eat (NBM) and a card I can’t read. The chap with the knee injury is hopping around on crutches and is released. His bed is soon taken by an elderly chap who fell down the stairs. I think he has been on an adjacent ward as I seem to recall having heard his voice for a while. Late afternoon I am told that I won’t make the list for today’s round of operations, so I choose a meal of Fish and Chips, which is OK and some ice cream which is nice. Another change on the Ward, the leg in the bed opposite has gone and has been replaced by a chap with a shoulder/arm injury. He seems pretty out of it. Evening visiting brings an old friend and his father. They have been via my house and have brought me the charger for my mobile phone and my sunglasses (not even I can recall where I have misplaced my spare pair of normal glasses). At least I have a better chance of seeing things now. I’m expecting Friday Night to be very noisy with lots of activity as the Hospital is the only A&E covering a large area and accepting casualties from bits of M3 M4 M40 & M25, as well as the usual Friday Night town centre drinking detritus. In the event is passes off pretty quietly on our ward and I get my first night of (almost) full sleep.

Saturday Morning and NBM again. On the ward round a Dr and his junior arrive with a pair of scissors and start cutting into the cast, there is a special soft section down the middle for this purpose. The Junior fumbles while the Senior wanders off. He is struggling somewhat and only manages a couple of inches, before wandering away himself. The senior guy returns and completes the job, and looks somewhat doubtfully at my ankle. “It’s pretty swollen”. Soon the surgeon arrives for a look and he explains that it is not good practice to operate on a swollen limb as it is difficult to get the flesh and skin knitted back again properly (later someone tells me that “you can’t put a squashed tomato back together” which encapsulates it very neatly). They could do it if pushed but would prefer to wait. I’m in no hurry. A brief discussion ensues about the possibility of sending me home for a few days, but they decide they’d like to keep me under observation. The cast is left open down the middle, and ice is packed. At least I know I’m not going to be operated on for a couple of days, so I can eat (fairly) normally. Afternoon visiting brings a pair of female friends bearing much chocolate, a magazine to read, but especially thankfully, some fruit juice to put in the water.

Staring to get to know the other guys on the ward. The elderly man who broke his hip falling down the stairs, the chap who fell from a ladder and shattered his ankle so badly had has a framework of scaffolding around it and the new boy who fell off his mountain bike. I have ridden that same trail many time before. I consider buying some body armour for next time. He is especially ‘lucky’ as he wasn’t even wearing a helmet. It turns out that Biker Boy is a teacher at the school that I attended 30 years ago, and that ladder man knows the Village (and some of the people and history) where my father was born. We all do a bit of male bonding. Saturday night seem reasonably quiet too.

Sunday is a restful day, knowing that I won’t be going in for Surgery, so I get my first breakfast, there’s no ward round, I have a bed bath and a clean gown. My eye is much better and for the first time I’m able to take a good look around and read for a while. For Lunch I choose ‘Pizza’ which turns out to be more of a Pizza Pie, and Roast Beef for dinner. John drops in again at afternoon visiting time, bringing more reading material. In the evening TC (whom I was having dinner with on Wednesday) comes into visit, driven by The Furnster. He has videoed the Grand Prix from Abu Dhabi and brings the DVD.

Monday and back to NBM. During ward round they express satisfaction at the state of the descended swelling. Another anesthetist runs through the procedures with me again and checks that I have signed all the paperwork. Then a porter arrives and I’m ready for the off. The nurse takes away the stand that has been keeping my leg raised “they are terrible down there, we’ll never see it again” and we are off, lots off “Good Lucks” from the rest of my Bone Buddies and we weave our way around the hospital, before descending a slope to the theatre. Down? Am I going to Hell already? Some insanely cheerful anaesthetists fuss round and plug another dip into my arm and someone puts an oxygen mask over my mouth at which point I wake up in recovery. Well that took about 3 ½ seconds. Actually it’s closer to 3 hours. My foot hurts like buggery and I’m still quite woozy as I get wheeled back to the ward. I’m sure you could fry eggs on my toes and there’s a tribe of ants who spend their time tunneling round. I have a new cast on, and no matter how I try to adjust my position, it hurts. Despite the warnings, I don’t seem to have many after effects from the anesthetic, I can keep drink down, and enjoy Chicken Korma for dinner (Top tip: If you are ever in Wexham Park Hospital that’s the best dish, followed by the Pizza Pie and the Enchiladas). Turns out that Bone Buddy Biker Boy is a bit of a gadget freak, he’s tweeting from his iPhone, has a Mac and is into photography, so we have a lot to chat about.

Tuesday and the Physiotherapists turn up (complete with crutches) to get me out of bed. Immediately I’m vertical it all goes a rather wonky as I come over all giddy and unnecessary, so instead of marching me round the hospital (as they had been doing to Ladder Man) they get me into the bedside chair so I can adapt to being a bit more upright. I am given to understand they Will Be Back later. Ladder man is also out of bed and we chat. There’s a change in the air. The Nurses are not as friendly or as helpful as they were. This might simply be due to a different shift of nurses, but these are mainly white English girls and the youngest ones are, frankly, rather dippy and stroppy. Ladder Man needs his dressing changing, so the dippiest nurse removes the old dressing and covers it with a sheet while she goes off and does something else. It is several hours before she returns to re-dress the wound, which turns out to be sufficiently irritated that swabs and samples have to be taken and sent for analysis. The elderly gent opposite is left in be-curtained purdah after he requests a bottle and it takes her almost 3 hours to ‘remember’ to collect it and draw back the curtains. I’m told that I will be sent home the following day, to which I point out that the sum total of my experience on crutches was less than three feet. I also inquire as to whether they are aware of my domestic situation and that I have no-one to run around and do any (serious) care or fetching and carrying. My points are ignored, I’m getting disgruntled. Whilst sitting beside Ladder man I get a visit from a friend who brings some extremely nice chocolate. Later a friend drops by with some clothes just in case I do get sent home (The Police still have my original trousers). My toes are still the temperature of the core of a functioning Nuclear Reactor and the ants are still having a massive party. The Physiotherapists never do return that day.

Wednesday and they seem determined to send me home. I’m quite stroppy by ward round time and remind them about lack of practice on crutches, lack of any information of the after-care of my injury etc etc. At least it provokes one of the Doctors to peel off and spend a few minutes chatting about (a) what was done and (b) what do do next. Wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been loudly stroppy. The Bone Buddies decide that the NHS is brilliant and baffling in about equal measure. I get wheeled down to have a new cast. The nice lady brings up my x-rays on her computer (Operating system is Windows 2000 professional!) and borrows my mobile phone to take pictures of them. A much lighter-weight glass-fibre cast is applied (I’m later told that you usually get a choice of colours, well I didn’t mine is bog-standard white). On the way back to the ward I thumb through my notes, as the porter walks slowly to give me time. All the important bits seem to be in code.

Fractured

The chap with the broken hip is transferred to a hospital closer to his home and his bed is quickly taken by Motor Bike Boy who fell off his bike and smashed up his ankle (rather like Ladder Man). The Physios arrive and I slowly hop out of the ward and into an adjacent room with a small set of steps, which I hop up and down twice. I have a rest in a chair and do it again. They declare themselves satisfied and that I can go home now. I’m really not so sure. I hop back to the ward and elect to spend some time sitting in the chair. I am assured of another follow-up practise session later (never happens). Sometime after lunch, Nurse Dippy/Stroppy tells me I am to be discharged.
“How am I going to get home?”,
“Isn’t there someone who can come and pick you up?”
“No”
“Oh, Um, Well, it’s rather late, I’m not sure what we can do”
“Well I can’t go anywhere under my own steam, If you want me out of here, sort it out”

Later Nurse Dippy/Stroppy brings a bag of medication.
“There’s your paracetemol, Codeine and Fragmin, which you inject into your stomach. I’ll get you a sharps bin”
“What’s the Fragmin for?”
“Oh it stops you getting blood clots”
(Now I had heard this being mentioned to other patients on the late night drug round, but was never mentioned or offered to myself”
“Well I had an operation on Monday and I haven’t had any injections of Fragmin”
“Oh”
“And I am really bad with needles and injections”
“Is there anyone who could do it for you?”
“No” Nurse Dippy/Stroppy wanders off. I never see her again. I assume her shift ended.

I’m told transport has been arranged and that I will be transferred to the “Discharge Lounge”. Much time passes. Eventually a cheerful lady in Ambulance driver overalls arrives with a wheelchair.
“Sorry, I was told that you’d be in the discharge lounge”
“That’s what I was told too”
She loads me into the wheelchair and it’s ‘Goodbyes’ all round and I’m away before it gets too emotional. In the ambulance we have a natter about how bad the Inter-departmental communication is. Arriving at my house we have to deal with the fact that the physios have only taught me to manage flat surfaces and stairs. The Ambulance doesn’t have a lift, only a rather steep ramp which the driver helps me down, and we make slow progress as I hop and stutter to my house. Getting inside is difficult as there is (a) a step up, and (b) a raised uPVC threshold to leap over, and I’m home.

Bonnie Greer on the controversy surrounding the appearance of the leader of the BNP on Question Time, the BBC TV show.

“The Left has become too smug, too complacent, too trusting in its own insular view of the world. Anyone who does not accept its outlook is too often ridiculed or simply ignored.

“The refusal by too many on the Left to allow air time to what are rightly considered to be disgusting, abhorrent views only allow those views to cloak themselves in a kind of self-righteous martyrdom. They become censored, mysterious, points of campaign and anger. Democracy can never flourish in the dark.”

Bloody Hell! A lefty talking sense!

So the following day he bimbled down to town and waited for a Shiny Wriggly Caterpillar to take him off to the Big City, remembering the curious feeling in his tummy that his previous adventure on the Caterpillar had engendered. Within what seemed like a very short time he tumbled out of the Caterpillar into the Big Town. The Parks were as he recalled them, full of trees and people having fun. The Very Big House still had a lot of people waiting out side, but the Very Tall Clock didn’t have anyone shouting at it, so he thought it must be happy.

Crossing the widest river he had ever seen the Ammonyte bimbled along the riverbank past an enormous wheel that spun and spun but never went anywhere. “What possible fun could that be?” mused the Ammonyte.

Big Wheel, Keep On Turning

He bimbled further along past a curious grey building with odd splashes of colour. Nearby strange people tried to be even stranger people, wriggling or not wriggling to curious music. Eventually he reached an enormous metal boat moored in the middle of the river, as he stared at this he noticed a shop selling potions, so the Ammonyte decided the only sensible response was to have a potion called “Cumberland Ale” and very nice it was too. Feeling rather light-headed he bimbled on, crossing the river again, down now familiar lanes, till finally he arrived at the potion house next to the Magic Castle. Inside sitting next to some big boxes on wheels was a man who introduced himself as the W.W.W. Over a large magic potion the WWW told tales of the amazing magic potions that were made in a country far away to the West. Suddenly! the BFG appeared and suggested the WWW stow his big boxes on wheels at the Magic Castle. So they all bimbled across the moat into the Magic Castle, the WWW stowed his boxes on wheels and then the Ammonyte the BFG and the WWW, went up onto the roof of the Magic Castle and looked upon the Shining Towers of the East

The Shining Towers of the East, the WWW and the BFG

Just then, The Princess arrived home so the BFG suggested returning to the magic potion selling house as there were some very special potions from a small town in the East which were supposed to be Very Very Good, and needed some serious testing, so by the time The Princess got to the magic potion house, very many potions had already been tested. The Ammonyte, emboldened after several large potions told the WWW that he had taken up making Magic Potions. Thw WWW said that he would like to try one of the Ammonyte’s potions. The Ammonyte’s heart did back-flips! if The WWW gave his approval to his potions! Oh My!

The Princess said that enough potions had been consumed and that they should go to the Shop of Delicious Delights down the lane, so off they all wandered. And My! The delights were most delicious. The Ammonyte had a fish, the like of which he had not heard of before, for it clearly did not swim in the streams that flowed through the woods near the Ammonyte’s abode. Alongside the food some more potions were consumed, the names of which sounded like Strange Snakes from the East.

Somehow the party arrived back at the Magic Castle, and the BFG announced that they should all play a game called “Guitar Hero”, but the Princess said he had a shiny new talky thing called an “ayefone” that she needed to introduce to her ‘puter, so the WWW, the BFG and the Ammonyte played “Guitar Hero” on a thing called “a wee”, which was made much more difficult by a special potion called ‘Vanilla Vodka”.

Suddenly! It was the next morning. The BFG and the Princess had vanished to rule their fiefdoms in The Big City. The Ammonyte was happy to see that the WWW had suffered as much from the after-effects of the potions as he had done. The WWW loaded up his magic boxes on wheels and he and the Ammonyte set out for the river bank, where after a non-magic potion they got on a boat that traveled back up the Big River, the Ammonyte literally boggled to see the Big City from a boat on the river. Then they took a Shiny Wriggly Caterpillar that went underground like a worm, until they arrived at the house where the Shiny Wriggly Caterpillars that would take the Ammonyte home, lived.

Finally the WWW and The Ammonyte arrived at the burrow where the Ammonyte lived. Nervously the Ammonyte poured a cup of his own Magic Potion for the WWW to try. The WWW considered. “Not bad, not bad at all” was his opinion. Well! Well! The Ammonyte could have jumped the Moon! For it was well known that the WWW was a most discerning and experienced judge of potions. So it was with a heart full of happiness and sadness that the Ammonyte took the WWW and his boxes on wheels, upon his cart to meet The Fluffy One who was to care for the WWW until the Big Shiny Bird took him back to the far, far West.

And so he came back up the hill, as day was ending once more. And he went on, and there was yellow light, and fire within. He drew a deep breath. “Well I’m back,” he said.

Recently all eyes have been on the Renault ‘Spygate’ scandal, and this morning it emerged that a ‘Witness X’ had put nails in the coffin of the defense. Now I am not suggesting any connection, but I find it curious that both Ron Dennis and Flavio Briatotre, whom it was rumored to have been behind Max Mosley’s ‘outing’ have both been punted out of F1. Max tidying things up before he leaves, perhaps? And who was ‘Witness X’? Fernando Alonso was called to the hearing at short notice, and it would be inconceivable that a driver of his experience did not want to know why he was put on such a strange race-strategy.

Well the next performance of the circus is in Singapore this coming weekend, and is taking place at night to facilitate better TV audience ratings. Let’s hope it’s not scheduled against the X-Factor.

My mind travels back to 1981, when Mike Brearley was recalled to the role of England Captain when the current incumbent, Ian Botham, resigned the captaincy due to the adverse effect it was having on his playing. At the time Brearley would never have made the side on his cricketing skills (he probably wouldn’t even have done so a few years previously in his “pomp”), it was purely down to his cricketing brain, and especially his leadership and man-management skills, which allowed him to get the best out of people like Botham, David Gower and Bob Willis. The appointment was clearly a stop-gap measure, and it is here that the MCC (who ran the England team back then) clearly missed a trick.

David Gower was clearly marked out as the golden boy and FEC (Future England Captain), but was seen as too young and inexperienced. What should have happened is that Brearley should have been taken to one side and told “Gower is the future, teach him all that you know”. What did happen is that Keith Fletcher, another older player but experienced county captain, was called into the side, lost a series against India and a test against Sri Lanka before being dismissed. Bob Willis succeeded Fletcher, but combining the roles of fast bowler and Skipper are notoriously difficult and on the 1983/4 Winter tour to Pakistan, Gower took over after the first test. Three years of bumbling around could have been avoided. Now, I am not being wise after the event, since both myself and wiser counsels thought as much, back in ‘81.

Fast-Forward to 2009. Developing England Captains is even harder. The England Cricket team is now run by the ECB (England and Wales cricket Board), who retain the top players on “Central Contracts”. This means that once you are an England Player you very rarely play for your (handsomely renumerated) County. While this may allow better management of the players, by preventing them being flogged to death playing out dull draws in front of the proverbial three men and one dog on the County circuit, it does mean that young players in the England set-up don’t get a chance to develop the leadership skills associated with Captaining their county. And by definition, most county captains haven’t made the grade as an England player. (e.g. Robert Key who was suggested as a candidate to replace Kevin Pietersen before Andrew Strauss was appointed). Therefore there is clearly a need to inculcate young players in the England setup with the necessary skills. Shame it has taken someone 218 years to sort this out.

Viruses, Trojans and other nasties.

Virus
A program or code that replicates, that is, infects another program, boot sector, partition sector, or document that supports macros, by inserting itself or attaching itself to that medium. Most viruses only replicate, though many do a large amount of damage as well.

Trojans
Unlike viruses, trojans do not self-replicate. They are spread manually, often under the premise that they are beneficial or wanted. The most common installation methods involve system or security exploitation, and unsuspecting users manually executing unknown programs. Distribution channels include email, malicious or hacked web pages, Internet Relay Chat (IRC), peer-to-peer networks, etc.

Malware (malicious software)
A malicious program. Viruses and Trojans are examples of malware. Potentially unwanted programs (PUPs) are not considered malware.

Adware
Programs (usually free) which make money for their writers by displaying adverts or redirecting people to particular websites, or collecting information about your browsing habits to allow targeting of adverts. Closely related to spyware and malware, there is a grey area where the activities of adware cross-over with malware and particularly, spyware.

Spyware
Software whose function includes transmitting personal information to a third party without the user’s knowledge or consent. This usage is distinct from the common usage of spyware to represent commercial software that has security or privacy implications.

Root Kits
A root kit is a set of software that consists of a program or combination of several programs designed to hide or obscure the fact that a system has been compromised – that is hide the infection from Anti-virus and anti-malware programs. Because they exist at such a fundamental level on the computer they can be very difficult to detect and remove, and there are examples of root kits which can survive a complete re-formatting and re-installation of the Operating System (OS) on the computer.

Pharming
A method of redirecting Internet traffic to a fake Web site through domain spoofing. This involves creating a fake DNS record for a real Web site, typically that of a bank or other commercial enterprise. The fake DNS redirects traffic from the real Web site to the fraudulent site, intending to gather customers’ personal information. For example, when a user types the URL of a bank into their browser, the browser does a DNS lookup to determine the IP address of the bank’s Web site. DNS servers store a list of domains and their corresponding IP addresses. Hackers insert false information on the DNS server, so that browsers looking up bank’s the IP address are redirected to the fake IP address. On the visitor’s browser, the site appears legitimate.

Phishing
A method of fraudulently obtaining personal information, such as passwords, social security numbers, and credit card details, by sending spoofed e-mails that look like they come from trusted sources, such as banks or legitimate companies. Typically, phishing e-mails request that recipients click on the link in the e-mail to verify or update contact details or credit card information. Like spam, phishing e-mail go to a large number of e-mail addresses expecting that someone will read the spam and disclose their personal information.

Why can’t Anti Virus software detect Spyware and Trojans?
Viruses usually embed themselves inside other (usually legitimate) files, so AV software scans for the changes that viruses make to legitimate files. Spyware, trojans and key loggers are programs in their own right. Some AV software will scan for both types of infection, some will only scan for viruses. “Anti Malware” or “Anti Spyware” will NOT scan for viruses, so you should not rely on one of those programs to give you full protection.

It is NOT good practise to have two AV programs running at the same time, because they check every file on the computer as it is accessed, this will slow your computer down. Just running a single AV program can have a noticeable effect on the computer’s performance, so it is best to have one program running in the background scanning all activity, then on a regular basis, run a separate Anti-malware/Anti-spyware program to scan your computer. It is also useful to have a software firewall running on your computer. Since Service Pack 2 of Windows XP, Windows has had a built-in firewall, however this only defends against external threats – i.e. things or people trying to access your computer. More useful is a firewall which can alert you when programs on your computer try to access the internet, because many types of malware try to transmit information back to their “masters” or download extra malware or hijack your computer to send spam.

Some Examples of Anti-malware/Anti-spyware programs:-
Malwarebytes Anti-Malware
Spybot Search-and-destroy
Super Anti-Spyware

Anti Virus Software:-
AVG
Kaspersky
Bitdefender
Norton/Symantec

Firewall Software:-
Online Armor
Zone Alarm
Comodo
Sunbelt Personal Firewall

Some software describes itself as an “Internet Security Suite” and have modules that act as a firewall, detect viruses, spyware and malware (e.g. Norton 360), however some security experts suggest that this is a “placing all your eggs in one basket approach”, and that by using programs from several different suppliers you get a meause of cross-checking – if one company has missed a particular problem, the software from a different company may pick it up. Most Broadband routers have a firewall built into them. Make sure your router has it’s firewall activated as an additional level of protection. However if you have a laptop, as soon as you connect to a wireless network somewhere away from home you may not be protected, so having a software firewall is vital.

Free or Paid for?
Many security programs have free versions, so why should you pay for software? Well most free versions are for personal or home use only. If you are using your computer for a commercial activity, then you may be in violation of the End User License Agreement (EULA) and you should purchase the software. Paid-for software will receive better support, more updates and contain more features. Having said that, it is perfectly feasible to get full protection for your computer by using only free versions of security programs, though you may have to put up with adverts or ‘nag screens’.

Practise safe computing.
Make sure you have a combination of Anti-Virus, Anti-Malware (& Spyware) and Personal Firewall. Update them regularly and run frequent scans of your system (at least once a week, preferably once a day). Don’t open email from people you don’t recognise, don’t share files with people if you aren’t sure about their own security measures (sharing files is illegal under many circumstances any way). This applies to email as well as “chat” or “Instant Messaging” programs such as MSN, ICQ, and IRC and social networking systems like Facebook and Twitter. Be wary of people using USB thumb drives on your computer. Turn off the “Auto-run” options for USB and CD-ROM/DVD drives (found in Control Panel) and use your security programs to scan the USB/CD/DVD before trying to access files on the device.

Make sure your computer has the latest security updates from Microsoft (or Apple if using a Mac. Macs are less vulnerable to infection, they are NOT invulnerable. AV, anti malware and firewall programs are available for Macs), consider using an alternative web browser like Firefox or Opera (tend to be less vulnerable to “poisoned” websites which “push” malware onto your computer) and disable Javascript. This will break many websites and prevent them displaying properly, but will prevent many instances of the poisoned website pushing malware at you. (There is an add-on for Firefox called No-script which allows you to enable Javascript on a website-by-website basis. Makes browsing the web harder work, but safer).

Be wary of warning messages that pop up telling you that you have an infection and suggesting that you download a program to fix it – these are often fake messages and you can end up infecting your computer, not cleaning it.

Example of a fake warning (not all fakes have bad grammar and spelling):-
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