America (29th July ~ 14th August 2011)

I am bruised!

After anger comes fear, and after fear comes hurt and feelings of being let down. No doubt these will rapidly pass?

This week I have to ask questions about my pension, the change in role and consequently reduction in salary will obviously effect my pension and lump sum pay-out. The projection I received only a few months ago is now nul and void as a consequence of the management of change.

No doubt things could change and it's maybe unwise to secumb to worries about my pension at thirty-nine, but how about those in their fifties whom retirement is a looming prospect and any wage reduction (irrespective of pay protection) would have a hugely detrimental effect on their pension? Those who have worked for thirty years plus; have given their time, their commitment, their knowledge to providing and improving health care only to be demoted to mere drones as their career draws to a close. You can't move the goal posts so late in the game.

My projection suggested that I could retire at fifty-seven, by that logic I am already approaching half-way through my career. Much can change in eighteen years and time allows me to make extra preparations for my old age and provisions for EJT once I've gone.

Dialogue with the yoof

Last night I had dialogue with one of the young people after playing me "Swagger Jagger" by X-Factor Bint Cher Lloyd, thought a car alarm going off. Utterly, utterly rancid.

ShipYards: "The beginning sounds like "Oh my darling, Clementine" *sings* ... Huckleberry Hound use to sing it."

Yoof: "Who's Huckleberry Hound?"

SY: "A dog cartoon character"

Y: "R, what is a Swagger Jagger?"

SY: "I know all about Jagger's swagger, but can't help you on SJ ..."

Y: "Jagger?"

SY: "Yeah"

Y: "Who?"

SY: "Mick Jagger ... The Rolling Stones???"

Y: "Nah!"

SY: "You've never heard of Huckleberry Hound OR The Rolling Stones?"

Y: "Nope!"

SY: "REALLY???"

Y: "Yep"

The youth of today, I'll be contacting social services forthwith.

Scribble & shave

The girls asking what I was scribbling as I made notes of my musings; I told them I was writing a novel in the hope it would save me from a life trapped within the NHS. They didn't look altogether convinced (they say everyone has a book inside them?) Surprising really, they are as a rule usually fairly gullible.

When they asked me about my facial hair I told them I was growing a beard in tribute to Lord. Alan Sugar (previously Siralan Sugar) as the end of this series of The Apprentice. Not even a raised eyebrow, almost expected.

Peter Beavis – Portrait of Sir Alan Sugar (2011)

In truth after buying a new beard trimmer I thought it might be practical to grow a beard to trim. I want to get my sideburns up to scratch before travelling and the only way to do this without various contrasting hair lengths is to beard-up and then trim and shave to optimum length.

It soon becomes tiresome having to shave each & everyday to try to maintain professional standards, and the explanation of going a beard seems to allow me to let standards slip without criticism. Even that's not really true, I still have to shave everyday, just as a rule to less of my face, to avoid my chest hair meeting my face hair. Dare say it will be gone by Monday- ten days abstinence will no doubt be adequate and I do need to look like my passport photo.

I'm not having a shave at the airport again, no way. EJT had her nails painted a vibrant pink, I got mowed (beyond shaved), it was like having my skin flailed off! Rather than smooth strokes she pushed down with the razor so hard, at a similar pressure as if you were grating cheese, but perhaps not so vigorous. On a positive note I didn't need to shave again for 4-5 days, but even if I'd wanted to I couldn't have got a razor near my blazing until then. It was as if she had clambered into my mouth and pulled out each hair individually. This year I will be forgoing all beauty treatments to avoid potential pain or injury. The Virgin lounge don't provide a chiropodist do they, not that would be beneficial!

Leadership

The first official portrait of Tony Blair, painted by Jonathan Yeo  (Son of Conservative Minister Tim Yeo) in 2008. The viewer's eye is automatically drawn to the red poppy on Blair's lapel; a symbol of the many wars fought while he was prime minister. As prime minister, he sent troops into war four times, in Kosovo, Sierra Leone, Afghanistan and, most controversially of all, Iraq.

 

"You've got to be able to manage people. At certain points you've got to delegate otherwise you run the risk of trying to get into the details of everything and it's just not possible, but delegation works better when everyone knows the direction. You make your choice, you're either weak or a dictator"

                                                         Tony Blair (2011)- Talking about leadership.

Cramp

The 18th may have marked our second wedding anniversary, but the 19th marks the worst cramp I ever suffered.

Is it bad that it is equally memorable, I can't think of one (the wedding) without the other (the cramp), it was that bad.

Got married \ Worst cramp ever

Worst cramp ever \ Oooh I'd just got married.

I remember the desperate hunt to try to find anything ice cold to reduce this mighty muscle seizure. Slamming my sole down onto the toilet base, trying to mould my foot around the raised bolts that held it to the floor. To no avail.

The pain continued for much of the night, just when I thought it had abated POW back it returned with fiery vengeance. Hopping & screaming like all my muscles, tendons & ligaments had been tightened and were being pulled like a busted marionette.

I guess cramp is pretty far down the line in terms of the worlds ill's, especially in comparison to genocide, famine and abuse, but it's still high up there.

Any spasm or sudden pain (indegestion, migraine, cramp) makes you believe that your body is failing; crumbling from the inside and is an actual pre-cursor to death. A painful & dramatic sudden passing, clutching your chest, head or limb.

Revolt

The off-duty is finally out, a collaberative effort between JK & myself; it's not great. Major understatement, it's terrible! I actually expect mass revolt and whilst I am sympathetic I'm also not really bothered 'cause I'm not here. Brutal but true, you can only care so much before becoming fatigued by it all.

I'm sad that the focus of disatisfaction will be me, despite attempts to be kind and fair. But I guess that's just the way it is?

Not tough S-O-F-T

My "be tougher" regime didn't really last long (just over 48 hours) unfortunately.

It fell apart when three Health Care Support Workers walked onto the ward this morning on an early shift, especially after I'd given the lone one on the afternoon a (legitimate) bank holiday after a family accident.

> One was meant to be on an early.
> Another was meant to be coming in 8 - 4 to act as a play specialist (whilst ours remains on a phased return)
> The third was meant to be on a 10 - 6, but came in early 'cause she had an appointment that evening and "Didn't think it would matter!"

They really don't do themselves any favours; but I am equally to blame as I should have obviously made it clearer on the off-duty and should have reviewed the situation at the beginning of the shift not at after midnight, not that it would have made ANY difference.

Two years ago I got married (re-married). I can honestly say that the last (approaching) four years have been the best; I really fell on my feet when I met EJT. Time has flown, but it also feels like forever (in a good way) A time before seems a dim & distant memory; another lifetime ago, another life, another person.

It was like I was re-born, which I appreciate is rather dramatic, but it's true.

When people ask how I spent my wedding anniversary I can saucily reply "In bed ... and even then I wasn't truly satisfied!"

The delights of shift work, I spent the day in bed recovering from one night and preparing for another and EJT is at school. Even in the late afternoon & early evening when we were together it was tinged with sadness knowing that I would have to depart shortly for work. Not the greatest piece of planning known, but this week hasn't been the easiest to cover.

EJT is on comedown prior to breaking up on Friday and I'm doing the most mixed up week of shifts for a longtime.

It shouldn't matter 'cause it's only our second anniversary, but it's still not nice. It's well documented that neither of us likes me being on nights; EJT doesn't settle at home or sleep well and I don't like the whole disruption to normal service and my body clock.

It's nice to spend any potential celebration or event together.

Horror of horrors with all those supplements and sections the Saturday Telegraph  looks rather appealing as the newspaper to partner The Guardian on tonight’s shift (they even have a gardening section). Obviously I had a stern word with myself and picked up The Independent. The Times is usually good on such occasions, but ... ... ... well you know (the Murdoch assosiation)?!? Sadly with the Independent and it's almost constant eco / world-ending bent ("We're all doomed!") prepare for me to be depressed tomorrow.

Hooliganism comes to Stone

WHY?

Chewbacca Legs

Woke up with terrible restless (aching) legs, the feeling that I just need to run. Now plainly whilst my legs were keen to sprint off, the remainder of my body (especially the cardio-pulmonary system) was most reluctant. Each part had to contend themselves with a brief walk round the garden and even then my slippers got damp. It's not socially responsible to wander to the news-agents in solely your underpants.

It's better than last Friday when I woke full of bile and hate, a consequence of getting up at lunchtime following a night shift, every part of my body was bad tempered- head banging, legs aching, skin creeping, stomach griping, nose & eyes itching ... even my soul felt rotten. Everything either made me either rage or despair, I was ashamed to even be part of the community.

It probably wasn't wise to go into Newcastle where the R.C.G's (Reuben’s coffee gossips) remain; always present whenever I visit, steadfastly & thoroughly awful in their attitudes, opinions and whole damn demeanour. They hardly make for a conducive & restful environment at the best of times, but the coffee and the vibe (when they're not there) in Reuben’s is the best in Newcastle by far. Invariably even if they're not there when I arrive they often descend once I've ordered and am sitting down so I can't escape and usually select a table near me. Would it be better (cathartic) if I just told them how I felt and got it out of my system?

I need a break. I know I need a holiday when I suddenly get overcome with tiredness & anger, get easily confused and find it takes me longer to process information.

I few embarrassed moments standing at the supermarket checkout unable to recall my pin number (the pin number that I have had unchanged for over twenty-one years), thankfully I scraped together enough cash & coins together to cover the bill (just). Then on returning home I typed my visa card number into the burglar alarm and wondered why it wasn't recognised, the box continued to flash and a the loud siren started to wail.

I just need to STOP, REST & RECUPERATE. Fourteen days and counting ...

Pottermania

Confession- I only got mid-way through the first Harry Potter book (The Philosophers Stone) and I've only ever caught bits of the film. Nothing more.

Whilst I'm hugely respectful of JK Rowling in the achievement of encouraging hundreds of thousands (millions perhaps?) of people to read (not just children; teenagers and adults also) and explore wider literature. In the same way as these Andrew Lloyd-Webber fronted find-a-star reality shows have encouraged people to explore the theatre.

Initially they follow something or someone on the tele for weeks on end, and maybe then interested enough to see the actual performance. Perhaps then they then book-up to see something else in the West End or explore their local theatres and reps (be it panto, musical or play) and it opens new doors & experiences. Whilst Lloyd-Webber makes millions from this, I do believe that he loves the arts and wants it to be open to more than actually attend. If someone discovers something new and that they love, surely everyone wins? It's too easy to be stuffy about it all, and I don't usually miss the opportunity to take the high ground.

When I attended the Glyndebourne opera series in Hanley I did wonder where all the people had come from, they were certainly outside of the normal populous of Stoke-on-Trent. I suppose just as there is a yobbo under-belly so there must also be a well-to-do (both probably out of plain sight?)

I am equally proud that the Harry Potter films are very much a British success; pretty much every respected & renowned performer appears in the film series and because of investment the UK now leads the world in terms of production, staging and cinematic achievements.

Even so this doesn't make me want to dash out and try to read 'em or sit down to wade through the all flicks.

Be tougher!

I have been appraised and found to be average (hooray for being average).

I have reached my final band six gateway, just in time to have it snatched away from me (I could say) without pay protection this would potentially mean a yearly drop of almost five thousand pounds (£4,948) from top band six top band five.

In truth my appraisal went better than expected, but what could possibly have been said apart from ... be tougher.

Not easy to be tough when perhaps your nature falls more towards gentle, but I can continue the process of toughening. I meet all my goals & outcomes, perform as requested, regarded by my colleagues (regarded as what I felt the need to ask?) All good apparently.

Is that a weed?

Is that a weed?

Is that a vegetable (another necessary volume in the series)?

Rain stops play; rain stops essential garden maintenance. I desperately need to get out there before we go to America; the opportunities are getting less and less frequent. Not only do the lawns need addressing, but the borders & corners. Which always brings up the questions "Is that a plant or is it a weed? Should I pull it up or leave it?"

Surely there must be a book or perhaps an i-phone app, some sort of resource to help me with my plight*.

At the moment I use the "Does it look alright?" method (is it pretty?) But I guess if it's attractive and you like it, then there is no real reason to remove it.

It's what other people think though, it's embassing for people to view the boarders and comment on the glorious flowering beds "... you do realise that's a dandy lion don't you?"

* I've checked on Amazon, there isn't! Perhaps I should write one although I haven't the background knowledge.

Countdown

Nine shifts and counting- now on countdown (2 from the top, 1 from the middle, 3 from the bottom!) predicted panic that we are not fully prepared and have neglected something.

Oestrogen Overload

Whole day at the College of Nursing and I've yet to spot a single other chap (either student or tutor) Nursing remains a female dominated profession.

Buskers

In this supposed recession the standard of buskers has seriously dipped. Dishevelled chap playing a cornet (not the expected go-to instrument for a street performer), who presented a lolly to anyone who tossed a few coins in his hat (an ice cream punnet)

Well it's a step up from the living statue!

There is also an Albanian Father & son duo that performs versions of popular show tunes and 1980's hits on an accordion and melodica (blow-piano). There was another, again Father & son from the Southeast of Europe (the Balkans region), who I haven't seen for some time who busked in a similar way but playing a cheap keyboard and out of tune violin. I suppose needs must and you use any talent you have; I don't think I have any talent suitable for busking. That rules out another option if (when) nursing goes tits up!

Washing

Arrived home to find a note from our cleaner saying she is on holiday next week, typically I will be sleeping following completion

of my next run of nights and won't be capitalizing on this opportunity to wander round my own house in just my pants.

It has put a bit of a hitch in my plans of leaving all my holiday wardrobe washed and waiting to be ironed.

Hiding again

Wednesday and once again I was hiding, today in Newcastle under the umbrella (excuse) of getting some last minute bits 'n' bobs for EJT's birthday and our second (cotton) wedding anniversary. I could of done this at home as it largely entailed placing an Amazon order, except it's Wednesday (WE Do Not Ever Stop DAY) and the house was a bit messy (a symptom of tiredness and work associated stress) and really needed a full going over, not a selected buzz about avoiding certain rooms or floors where I maybe holed up.

I arrived home to find a note from our cleaner saying she is on holiday next week, typically I will be sleeping following completion of my next run of nights and won't be capitilizing on this opportunity to wander round my own house in just my pants. It has put a bit of a hitch in my plans of leaving my entire holiday wardrobe washed and waiting to be ironed.

What's it all about?

Soft toys strapped to the front of large vehicles (Trucks, dustbin lorry's, delivery vans and the like) What's that all about; is it symbolic or do the drivers just pick up those discarded and strap them to the front grill as a bonnet ornaments (almost a low rent homage to a Rolls Royce Silver Lady or something)? I'm intending to discover the reason for this peculiar practice.

... and what the hell is going here? An electric trolley used to collect refuge around the centre of Newcastle-under-Lyme, which has a myriad of toys fixed to it. I find it hard to believe that all these have been discarded around the town in the last few years, which makes me wonder if they actually search them out?

What ever & why ever it's certainly odd.

Staring at a screen going blind ...

... and I thought it was a struggle to cover the July / August off-duty. August / September appears even worse. In part largely 'cause I am on annual leave and therefore can't be the little red hen who picks up the uncovered shifts.

I had a cursory glance at it yesterday, aware that I need to crack on with it so it can be published before we go to the States (although it's start is six weeks away)

I think JK is happy to let it run right to the line, but people need notice; especially those with children at this time of year going into the long school holidays and obviously may need to arrange child care. Even those without off-spring have a life outside the hospital and plans.

Shit List

Living Statues

(Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?)

S-H-I-T

The Space Race Is Over

"When I was young I told my mom
We'll walk on the moon someday
Armstrong and Aldrin spoke to me
From Houston and Cape Kennedy

And I watched the Eagle landing
On a night when the moon was full
And as it tugged at the tides
I knew that deep inside I too could feel its pull

I lie in my bed and dreamed I walked
The sea of tranquility
I knew that someday soon we'd all sail to the moon
On the high tide of technology
But the dreams had all been taken
And the window seat's taken too
And 2001 and has almost come and gone
What am I supposed to do

Now that the space race is over It's been and it's gone
And I'll never get to the moon
Now that the space race is over
And I can't help but feel
That we've all grown up too soon

Now my dreams have all been shattered
And my wings are tattered too
And I can still fly, but not half as high
As what I wanted too

Now that the space race is over
it's been and it's gone
And I'll never get to the moon
Now that the space race is over
and I can't help but feel
that we've all grown up too soon

My son and I stand beneath the great night sky
And gaze up in wonder
I tell him the tale of Apollo
and he says "Why did they ever go"
It may look like some empty gesture
To go all that way just to come back
But don't offer me a place out in cyberspace
'Cause where in the hell's that at

Now that the space race is over
it's been and it's gone
And I'll never get out of my room
Now that the space race is over
and I can't help but feel
that we've all just goin' nowhere"

"The Space Race Is Over"- Billy Bragg

Space Shuttle 1977 - 2011

(The space shuttle Enterprise at Fairford Air Base, 20th May 1983)

Today brought the final launch of a Space Shuttle, a tremendously sad day for people of a similar age to myself. The space shuttle was going to open up space for the ordinary man, but in the end it was just a futile and costly experience. I never expected to go into space, but I'm hugely disappointed that my dreams of Cape Canaveral and Cape Kennedy (the Kennedy Space Centre) and witnessing an actual rocket launch have  today ended I suppose? Space does remains the final frontier, just a frontier that America no longer feels the explore (that crusade has ended) and Europe doesn't wish to pursue. The space race is over ... the Russians won

It is estimated that the Space Shuttle program cost about $170 billion from 1977 until 2008 (an average cost per flight of about $1.5 billion) Hugely - gargantuanly - expensive, but can you put a price on pursuing dreams and exploration? You can of course in better spending of the money; education, health, social care, community action.

It'll never be known exactly how many people watched Neil Armstrong walk on the moon, but it was beamed live around the world and watched by all races in all continents- a realistic estimation would be hundreds of millions. But people lost interest, space exploration became routine and lost it's excitement. How can this be true, a minuscule select few of our fellow human beings were strapped to what in the most basic terms is a giant firework which is fired into space; flaming exciting.

I gazed through the fences of RAF Fairford to see the arrival of the Shuttle Enterprise in the UK piggy backed on a Boeing 747 in 1983, it had stopped for refuelling en route to the Paris air show. I witnessed the live broadcast on television of both Challenger disintegrate after launch in 1986 and Columbia break apart during re-entry in 2003, and visited the memorials at Arlington cemetery.

Whilst in New York I feel it maybe necessary to go to Intrepid Sea, Air & Space Museum so I can touch both a Space Shuttle (Enterprise) and Concorde (Alpha Delta G-BOAD). That's not a euthanism, but it should be!

Shift struggles

Again a run of nights coincides with trying to complete the off-duty (August). After being so flush with staff in previous months we've gone to the other extreme; with holidays and ongoing secondments the skill mix is severely depleated, we are particularly short of staff to be in charge. It can't be completed and this is consequently delaying it's publication.

Domestic avoidance

Traditional Wednesday morning activity when off work (be that a day off, a night or a late shift), hiding from the cleaner. I could have left a note and hidden on the top floor, but that level especially needed addressing. So I fled the house at 08.15am, planing to return at mid-day. I actually returned at 11.30am and her car remained on the drive, so rather than going in and simply saying hello I turned my car around and drove to a near-by disused pub and sat on the car park and waited a further half-an-hour. That can't be right?

All to avoid having to engage in small talk and the inescapable feeling that she is my slave and I am her master (Lord of the Manor)

Dear Jim ...

"... can you fix it for me

 to have a go on one of those

hedgerow beard trimmer things?"

The natural progression for the lawnmower lover, looks like tremendous fun; as avenues within nursing close (a literal career cul-da-sac) perhaps it's a job option I should consider?

No doubt there's a long waiting list of potential operaters. Do you progress from general council mowing, to all terrain strimming and finally rewarded With the mighty mower. I'm sure if you're doing it day in / day out it rapidly loses it's appeal?

Morrissey 5th July

When my attention starts to drift at shows I try to locate the person who is having the most fun in the crowd; to present them with a virtual rosette. Much like any gymkhanas tonight in Stoke it was very much a two horse race- weeping Mozz clone or crazy whirling banshee woman. He edged it ... by a wail!

Oddly all the mad 'uns were to be found on the balcony, being in the seats they obviously were more likely to catch the attention of those in the stalls (especially those looking to give out prizes) No doubt there were more fruit-loop fans squished against the barrier, but they probably didn't have the room to express themselves fully?!?

I thought it was comic that after our battles to secure tickets, that after playing the traditional 2011 tour opener "I want the one I can't have" he followed it with "You're the one for me fatty!" He was obviously glad I'd been able to attend?

"The Union forever defending our rights ..."

I was appalled by such self-congratulation, big yourself up then chastise union members for not attending divisional meetings. Excuse me, I think you'll find that as my representative that is what you are supposed to do on my behalf. Well salaried, you appear to be a bag of shite!

I agree we have to pick our battles; pay protection seems a realistic tactical loss to ensure an improved skill mix once the new hospital opens. To me it seemed that the decision had already been made, I long ago accepted that our pay protection would have to change to be in line with surrounding NHS trusts. But a large part of me wonders if we should call the Trusts bluff, reject alterations to pay protection, provoke a review of the Management of Change document and consequently delay EVERYTHING.

Are we willing to stand by whilst our experienced colleagues are expelled (hard working, skilled, knowledgeable) or do we want to be only concerned with ourselves. I am acutely aware that I am vulnerable, but then so is pretty much everyone. I don't even agree with the theory of smug band fives sitting in their role safe, I don't think anyone is truly safe. With exception of HR staff, Union representatives and senior managers (Matrons, Divisional managers and the like) who very cleverly brought up the subject of pay protection once they had all been assessed and provided with the maximum protection available.

Had to ask "What do we pay our fees for?" seemed all the fight was gone.

Stuck by Santander



Such a glorious start to the day when the cash machine has a seizure and suddenly stops working moments after you've inserted your cash card. It made lots of creaking & clicking noises and then shut down completely, leaving my card still inside the machine(retained), the car on Marks & Spencer's car park, me stuck in town, many jobs to be done and almost completely penniless (with 73p in my pocket).

Santander weren't particularly interested despite my card being stuck in their machine and they were unwilling to return it (as is their policy), so I had to go through the whole pa-larva of contacting my bank, cancelling my card and ordering a replacement. Surely it would have been easier to have just confirmed my I.D. and return my card then and there (the bank that likes to say "Ummm! It's not possible unfortunately!")

Supermarket bootie ...

Shit List

Media Mogul Rupert Murdoch

(Although I really rate this portrait by British artist Jonathan Yeo)

Management of Change

The management of change document was issued to the majority of nursing staff today (approx. 3000). In short a rather bland and unexciting document, low on information & fact and high in confusion. Thankfully I felt relatively peaceful following receipt. The ward was manageable so I broke my lone commandment and had a cursory read; I didn't paw over it (nothing would be gained), leaving that to my colleagues. I didn't want to be distracted whilst at work, whatever it may have said our priority should always be to provide safe & effective care.

The news is not good, many expected redundancies at my grade and above. We have entered the ninety day consultation period which allows all staff to discuss the document with their union, formalise a plan and decide what post they wish to apply for (if any?). I feel I have to apply for a senior post even though I am fairly sure this is something I do not want, but I am aware that it is as much a case being seen to do things as actually achieving them. If I wish my pay to be protected I have to apply for a post. Enough to say that I am letting the dust settle and seeing how I feel after returning from the States;. I have until early October to submit the expression of interest document and the like.

There is a meeting tomorrow with Representatives from all Unions to discuss our response, which will also allow people to ask any questions to HR management staff. Not high on my list of potential ways to spend my day off I'll admit.

I very much like ...

Leatherface- "Viva La Arthouse"

Management of change

The management of change papers will be issued in the hospital today, I am in this afternoon on a late shift and will collect mine then.

As part of Fit for the Future the whole of the nursing team is being reviewed, and quite aggressively it appears. Details are still sketchy, but rumours are rife (as of course they would be). The deputy ward managers, senier nurses and all band sixes are being reduced, the figure is from around sixty down to four. But every member of staff has to express an interest in where they wish to work in the new hospital and consequently irresectice of current grade reapply for their job, be that the one they are doing or a lesser one. I don't really fancy one of the the senior staff jobs, but know I have to apply for one in order to have my pay protected. After fourteen years in practice it is only right that my wage reamins appropriate.

I had a few meetings all last week in preparation despite the document only being issued today, and am at a meeting with the Unions tomorrow to discuss issues surrounding the document and the protection of pay.

I've suggested to the girls that are on shift today that on receit they just take the envelpope and put it in their locker until they get home and can injest it properly. The temptation to rip it open will be great, but if you're on shift your priority has got to be to provide care and in reading anything I feel we'd be destracted.

I'm trying to be positive, both for my colleagues and for myself, but yeah it's a worrying time ...

I know I've been disracted this last fortnight and haven't been around much, everything seems very focused on this. We now enter a 90 day period of consultation (on both sides) so I think I will be clearer.

But Posh (Victoria Beckham) is due a cescerian today, so all is okay with the world really.

Shit List

Cheryl Tweedy & Ashley Cole

(Quite frankly I couldn't give a f*ck)

Health Secretary Andrew Lansley

(The NHS not safe in Tory hands)

NHS Shite

There's shite and then

there's NHS shite.

Stickier and more difficult to deal with, but it still smells! and is brown.