Safe hands

Balance

I realised I was becoming very inward looking (again), so decided to take a brief step-back from blogging (at least so frequently) whilst I gained an improved sense of perspective & balance. I'm not sure if that has been achieved yet, but I'm certainly feeling slightly more even.Things don't get any easier at work, it feels that they dropping more on to me with every working day. I'm taking a deep breath, swallow back all the anxiety that flies up my gullet and try to ingest the next responsibility (burden) It's not easy, and neither do I pretend that it is; I am frightened, daunted and anxious. I'm not sure how it will end and in what kind of a state I will find myself in when it eventually does?

Wednesday often seems to coincide with a day-off, and of course Wednesday is Cleaner Day so it is often spent departing early and trying to keep myself occupied for three hours. The irony is not lost on me that I could use these three hours to do the cleaning myself and we could  then bin the cleaner, but I think we all agree that this probably isn't a very good idea.

Jobless and taskless today I've spent most of the morning hanging round an assortment of coffee shops, reading the paper, thinking and scribbling down ideas to include in my CV. Inspiration strikes at the strangest of times and although I am no closer to actually completing it (plenty of time, 18 days) today I am more peaceful.

Truth is I'm not even sure I really want a senior nurse job; I would happily take a band five post,
do two years with protected pay and spend the time considering my options and future. Who knows what will have happened and how things will change by 2014?

The embarrassment of failure verses the reduction in stress.

Embarrassment would swiftly fade, all my experience and knowledge would still remain and the prospect of just being a nurse certainly does appeal. EJT appeared to eventually find some peace & perspective yesterday after a difficult & stressful start to the new term; perhaps it seeped into me overnight in some sort of sleep osmosis. Forget about it being Revival Wednesday, perhaps it's perspective Wednesday? Long may it continue for both.

Revival Wednesday

I'm more excited than perhaps a grown man of thirty-nine should be at the iminent prospect of a trip to Manchester later for the Revival Tour. I hope I'm not disappointed? We also have Revival Sunday in Nottingham approaching, which is probably more appropriate.

I caved ...

I very much like ...

Letlive- "Fake History"

Pezza Wed

Pezza's wedding was a joyous affair, a really good time appeared to be had by all and both she & the groom looked very happy. Perhaps all my anxieties were unfounded and this really is their fairytale. I hope so, I would like them to be incredibly happy and realize the grass is just as green at home as it is elsewhere. Something we should all remember once in a while perhaps?

Nevermind

The twentieth anniversary of the release of Nirvana's “Nevermind” approaches; whilst neither the band or the album were particularly important in my life, the grunge explosion opened the door to many bands that I love & loved. “Bleach” was an album I was aware of with it's release on Sub Pop Records and Nirvana were closely associated with some exceptional acts (Sonic Youth, Teenage Fanclub, Mudhoney, The Flaming Lips, Seaweed, Unrest, The Vaselines, etc). Their success and the success of “Nevermind” consequently provided greater prominence, promotion and availability for the alternative scene.

Yet Nirvana were a band linked to some major milestones in my life. I was nineteen when “Nevermind” was released (24^th September 1991), working at Do It All, involved in various bits of youth work and waiting to commence my nurse training. That place fell through and consequently my involvement in youth work increased, which would inturn stand me in good stead for all that was to come in the years following.

It was a great time to be in my late teens; to be alternative (whatever that meant or means?), appreciate music, literature, cinema & media and be socially aware. For the first (and perhaps only) time in my life to be fashionable, cool even (I was always too cool for school, just no one else ever noticed).

Two and a half years later I had moved to Stoke and begun my nurse training. Tuesday the 5^th April, terribly homesick (although terribly lonely maybe more accurate), five days after arriving in Staffordshire, I sat on my bed in the nurses home (Rm: 57) writing to my then girl-friend Alex, when the news of Kurt Cobain's suicide was announced on the radio. In my mind nursing and Nirvana are inexplicably linked.

Although I'm not sure why everything changed that night, music certainly changed; it heralded a rejection of American music for a while and the arrival of Brit-pop.

Much props must be given to Alex, my first proper g/f; she was incredibly bright and throughout our friendship and subsequent relationship she always encouraged me to write, explore wider literature and generally broaden my horizons. The relationship eventually petered out; youth, the initial 212 mile separation, her continued journey through academia (her at Cambridge University and myself in Staffordshire), both meeting new people and our lives life leading in very different directions. I fell from a relationship with Alex straight into seeing Vicki; I occasionally wonder what would have happened if I had returned to Dorset on the Friday before Christmas 1994 rather than going to that Keele University Festive Ball.

Perhaps I wouldn't have let the relationship with Alex desolve quite so swiftly?

Now eighteen years later I wonder how she is, where she went and what she does? Not for any ulterior motive, but simply 'cause I'd like to thank her for the introductions & encouragement. Seeing Vicki meant that the friendship couldn't continue (she was understandably threatened), but I missed hearing how her university adventure ended and beyond. In my mind I imagine that she emigrated to Canada, happily married and became a university lecturer (I don't know if any of these ideas are based on fact at all?) She has a common name, one almost impossible to internet search, so I guess I'll never know.

“Oh well nevermind”

                                  Nirvana- “Smells Like Teen Spirit”

I very much like ...

Chuck Ragan- "Covering Ground"

Ready to retire

We both appear to be more suited to a life of retirement than we are to a life of working full time. EJT can't get up (often) and feels devasted for much of the time. Whilst I am perfectly capable of getting-up and staying-up, it's remaining adequately motivated that's my stumbling block recently. I often think the Shipyards crest (Staffordshire Division) would feature the moto "Vere can non exsisto arsed"* because so much of life is druggery and struggle.

In the press there is a great deal of discussion about planned pension reforms for the public sector. In this current climate it seems obvious that the government are going to contribute less, we (the workers) are going to have to pay more and work until later in life.

Six months ago I received a pension prediction that suggested a fair lump sum & monthly income and a retirement age of fifty-seven; meaning that I am rapidly half-way through my career. Even on receipt it appeared to good to be true, and that certainly appears to be the case now.

I am concerned that it seems certain that as my wage is reduced as part of M.O.C, so my pension contributions will increase and this will leave us worse off month by month. Where would that leave us if we had children?

We live a very privalidged life and some coat cutting would certainly do us no harm. But I tend to feel that our life-style is to compensate to a certain degree for what we haven't got, and our life-style isn't as reckless as many of our family & friends. I will increase my contributions if necessary and will continue to work as able, but currently I can't see myself working beyond sixty.

Oh quis mos fio nostrum?*

* Really can not be arsed! * Oh what will become of us?

Shit List

I love it and loath it in equal measure

I love the principle, but I loath the beurocrasy. I often wonder what Aneurin Bevan would think of his 64 year old concept now, and how it had evolved. I imagine he would look on now with his head in his hands saying "No! No! No! That's not what I meant at all!"

The NHS was born out of a long-held ideal that good healthcare should be available to all, regardless of wealth. At its launch it had at its heart three core principles:
1. That it meet the needs of everyone.
2. That it be free at the point of delivery.
3. That it be based on clinical need, not ability to pay.

The problem now surrounds how we define "NEEDS". Need has gone from essntial care and saving lives to cosmetic surgery and fairytale treatments.

It's not a business and it will never make money, at best we should hope it breaks even (that every penny given is spent and can be accounted for).

No need for sauce

Starbucks: "Would you like sauce on your panini?"

SY: "No! No! No! Why would I want to sully a Cheese & Marmite panini with s-a-u-c-e?"

Why would need any more flavour for something already so flavoursome?

Starts badly ... gets worse.

It's always a sign that a day is potentially hazardous when first thing you do on commencing your ablutions is to pour mouthwash onto your tooth brush (instead of applying tooth paste). This little error illustrates that you may not be quite firing on all cylinders and for the good of all should head back to bed to protect both yourself, loved ones and the general public. It sets the day off at an odd camber; one that you fear the is little chance of repair or recovery from. Once you've made this kind of mistake you wonder what you'll ball's up next?

I've been low this entire week (and much of the last) with thoughts of CV's and re-application. I should be able to rise above it, but it's always there, niggling away at the back of my mind. Even so I haven't been able to devote time to the documents completion. Too easily distracted and everything seems more important and pressing. No doubt once back in work I'll be prompted to make headway, as information will be more readily available. I've forwarded my reference requests and have made copious notes about my experiences, aptitudes, strengths & weakness; but that's about it!

Inview of this and feeling quite isolated in my situation I thought it would be wise to gauge the feelings of some of my colleagues. Not those I work with directly, but others of a similar grade or responsibility within the Trust. Consistently all have reported the same feelings, attitudes and plans (I paraphrase)

I feel badly treated. This has been handled badly. I'm going to complete my documents, but in a fairly half-hearted manner, to ensure that my pay is protected, but I don't get the job. I neither want or expect to get a band six post. I'd quite like a band five, no managerial responsibility, just caring and leaving work at the hospital. The Trust is losing all their good staff and is going to get themselves in a total mess, just look at Stafford. Surely this should have been done sooner?

All of which I completely sympathise with, and to an extent agree, but I don't think you should enter into something with such a negative mindset. When you feel abused or miss-treated it is important that you don't sell your self short or believe the message the organisation appears to be sending out. Important to retain some sense of self-belief & self-worth, and be definant (listen to him!)

But I agree that everyone should receive protected pay; if you have applied successfully and appointed into a post previously it is wrong to reduce someones wage without some sort of compensation. To me a much better idea would have been to encourage people who actually want the posts to apply (not obtain them by default), irrespective of current grade and let others opt-out  gracefully (without the shame of failure or any stigma attached)

The way I see it is that there would be no greater cost implication in doing this and it would guarantee an enthusiastic work force. Which I've mentioned on so many occasions is sadly lacking at present. In the most simple terms how can you be excited about the opening of a new hospital when you can't be sure if you'll even have a job?

I don't trust them at all. There is something afoot obviously; some revelation that will be held back perhaps until after the decision has been made. I fear that the CV's are as much about justifying your previous performance as directing your future working life. You can't be seen to be coasting or not performing fully to your grade or job description

Stupid hospital

One Direction / No Direction

I've suffered a lot of derision & ridicule for my appreciation of One Direction's début single. Drip-feed exposure on the hour every hour courtesy of Signal 1 (the only radio station that can be received on the ward) has made me grumpily concede it's a slice of brilliantly marketed perfect pop (in my opinion)

Just hold me and tell me I'm alright …I'm manstruating.

I can, more than anyone perhaps, be a bit stuffie about music. Becoming the arbiter of taste between what is good and what is bad; I like to think it's 'cause I'm passionate and it matters. Now perhaps it doesn't matter in the great scheme of things, but music matters to me. Passion matters to me.

I occasionally worry that working within the NHS has thumped every ounce of enthusiasm out of me, but it's not enthusiasm for life & home, it's enthusiasm for the confines of life within the hospital. Evidence from the last six years suggest that the more content I am at home, the less content I am at work, and vice-versa.

I've struggled to motivate myself to complete my Management of Change documents today, despite sitting down this morning full of good intentions (enthusiasm would be too much), the documents are so contradictory and full of omissions.

When it says "Up to four specific roles reliant to the particular clinical areas to be identified here" it would be helpful if they listed them there. Surely they should have identified them before issuing job descriptions and requesting applications? As if the whole Management of Change and applying for your own job wasn't stressful enough they see fit to play hide 'n' seek with essential information. How can you pick a job from one of three, when vital information is missing (presumed forgotten about). I assumed it would appear as an appendix, but nothings there.

I would go from the previous job description, but it appears they have amalgamated the job I wanted (Senior Staff Nurse for Clinical Standards) with the job I really don't (Senior Staff Nurse for Education & Development) creating the post Senior Staff Nurse for Quality

I now have a choice of three; Deputy Ward Manager, Senior Staff Nurse for Quality and Senior Clinical Staff Nurse.

I believe there are people more suited to both the deputy and quality posts than myself, the Clinical Standards job could have been written for me, but now it's gone *poof* So it's Senior Clinical Staff Nurse or nowt (more likely nowt) I'm amazed how they keep moving the goalposts.

9/11

As the tenth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks arrives it is of course appropriate to look back and recall what we were doing and where we were when the attacks took place.

I was mid-way through a holiday in the remote Herault region of Southern France, in the morning of the 11^th September we had visited the Noilly Prat (vermouth) distillery in Marseillan for a tour & tasting and had returned to complex for an afternoon session about wine tasting (a rather alcohol focused day on reflection).

Midway through the tasting I noticed a small group gathered round a battered portable television in the bar; it was clear even from this crowd of around eight to ten by the way they were scrutinising this television that something significant had occurred.

I now know that we witnessed the live footage of Flight 175 (the second plane) crash in to the South Tower of the World Trade Center. Even after this we weren't completely sure of what exactly had gone on, partly due to the confusion in reporting and (probably to a larger extent) my poor linguistic ability.

Because it was out of season there were very few English speaking people staying, with a clientèle mainly from Southern & Mid Europe. I called my parents who were obviously receiving more accurate news reports (or at least reports they could understand). It was only three or four days later that we managed to obtain English language newspapers; the New York Times and Mirror if I recall correctly?

On that day the world really did change.

The 11^th September also has other associations now, as it marks my Sister-in-laws birthday, a celebration always tainted now she reports. She says that she can tell her birthday approaches as footage appears on the television and in the press.

Stole this ...

Red or Black?

Mid-evening greed-a-thon Red or Black (ITV game show where you could win one million pounds just by picking red or black); an aspirational guessing game where no knowledge, skill or talent is required, just luck. It comes from the Simon Cowell stable; which I should of guessed 'cause it's shit!

Because it's Cowell associated it comes with the obligatory sob-stories, how the contestant deserves to win because of their previous misfortune. It fate has dealt you a rotten hand previously it seems unlikely that he's going to change his mind and gift you one million pounds?

Whatever comes up, red or black, the only person who wins is the ambassador of evil Cowell as he continues the rapid encouragement of the dumbing down of our Nation. Yet there is some justice, despite it's huge production outlay and blanket evening broadcasting it hasn't brought in the viewing figures ITV desired. This is probably 'cause as a concept it is poor; as a big budget one-off extravaganza it may have caught the viewing public’s imagination. But it quickly became tiresome; some dick you don't care about is gonna win a bundle.

… and whilst we're at it PJ & Duncan (Ant & Dec) have seriously outstayed their welcome. ITV seem intent to ring out every ounce of talent out of their talent, desperate to get their moneies worth (and they certainly pay enough) Come on lads have a year off, recharge your collective batteries, get involved in some community action or charity work, just stay off television for a while.

Tweeter

Liz & her Mum shop, whilst I try to occupy myself wandering round Birmingham. I have turned hanging around in coffee shops into an art form.

Birdy tweeter (being sold by the street sellers); marginally less annoying than the assorted street evangelists that appear to inhabit the Birmingham streets today. I appreciate their desire to spread the gospel and admire their courage in doing so; I'm just unsure if it's the most effective form of evangelism?

Especially when two miked-up preachers are standing less than one hundred metres apart; competing for attention, their words merging into just noise and occasionally feedback.

It's not just the Christians who are out in force (large Baptist contingent it appears), but the Muslims are also out (badly timed it could be said on the eve of 9/11), the Mormons and even the Hari Kristinas. Add to that the inevitable chuggers (charity muggers), collecting bank details & direct debits for Care, Save the Children and the NSPCC (three separate charities in one City on one day, overkill)

… and each of them catches me; the balisha-beacon that flashes above me that encourages every crack-pot, nut case, lunatic, fanatic or good deed doer to approach. I am tolerant, but it gradually evaporates. I just want to be left alone.

A new menace also prows our streets, the researcher.

“Hello Sir can I just ask you a few questions? Do you eat crisps?”

“No. My body is a temple and I only eat raw organic food that I have grown myself!” (that stumps 'em)

“Can I ask you how you reached Birmingham today?”

“Your guess is as good as mine; some bad decisions in my teens I suppose?”

If you complete their survey and you're lucky you get given a few sweets or are entered into a competition to win a holiday. Yes that was worth sacrificing half an hour of my time, five tubes of friggin' Smarties.

I always feared the Hari-Krishnas on my first encounters with as a teen; which is fairly ironic considering their gentle & peaceful nature. Being brought up in a Christian home we were taught to be wary of other beliefs, consequently I worried that Gouranga would be some kind of mystic spell and by saying it it would open the gates of Haides or invite a demon into my soul; but it's just a word (although not as good a word as marmalade)

"Say Gouranga and be happy".

"Say Titmouse and giggle like a school-girl"

"Say Bobble-hat (a very pleasing word) and chuckle"

Lazy

I am fundamentally very lazy

(there, I've said it)

Friday Review

Just when I think I'll briefly close my eyes for a few minutes the phone rings, isn't that always the way?
Bored, direction less and still poorly motivated. I haven't publicised my holiday widely, thinking a week completing niggling jobs and spending some isolated time would help me regain my equilibrium and gain a bit of perspective. In truth I haven't really gained or done anything for the past two days, beyond visiting the Biddlecombes in Knowle which I'll admit was very valuable.

I'm not even sure how much weight I have carried for EJT on her return to school; she stuck in her room upstairs and me twiddling around on the internet downstairs. I imagined I'd spent hours writing, and perhaps I have, but it doesn't appear I have created a great deal of value.

I have spent a lot of time drinking coffee and reading newspapers, so at least I'm caffeined-up and up to date with current affairs.

Thankfully I have a few more days to make this holiday count for something, so I shouldn't despair just yet, although I feel less enthused at the prospect of selling myself & CV completion than I did on Monday. But on Monday at least I was full of gusto to make headway with my jobs list.

We're going to Birmingham tomorrow, a different city to while away my time in. EJT will shop with her Mum, and I in turn will mooch-around, imbibe more caffeine & current affairs, visit Rich at Ignite (with a budget) and perhaps visit the cinema. The only problem with the flicks is that there is much on at the moment.

Liz will invariably ask when she gets in what I have done with my day, and I will shrug my shoulders and look blank. I think she knows I'm not at my best, as do family, but we are skirting round the issue whilst we wait to see how everything progresses.

I have reached the conclusion that a vast majority of men don't like their jobs. I like my work (caring) but I don't like my job (the bureaucracy of caring) I keep looking at a far off hill of improvement “It'll be better come March” Once all the rubbish about jobs is resolved and we're in the new building. In terms of work it is rare for me to be optimistic.

Always struck with the concern; if not nursing, what? What else can I do?

A record store / label / distro in this current economic climate (both financial & musical) is madness; it wouldn't generate the income required. Better as a hobby. I have to have faith that the right thing will come along.

Not good enough to be a writer, all novel ideas are trapped in my skull.

Not funny enough to be a comedian.

To much self-esteem and to many responsibilities to up sticks, run away and hide until it all blows over.

I'm naval gazing again … never good. Consequence of a direction less week-off alone. Too much navel gazing, not enough self-discipline. Story of my life.

Sharp slap ... back on track.

I really should pop into work and forward some information from my hard-drive there to my home PC. But I haven't been able to face going in, I don't need (or want) to be made aware of the goings on in my absence and I don't wish to be embroiled in any discussion. I should have e-mailed it before finishing on the 2^nd September, but I simply forgot in the desire to escape as quickly as I could.

I'm going to have to go in, no discussions ... ... ... perhaps on Monday?

Clashing plans

It's frustrating that every gig locally that I'd like to attend clashes with something or other. The King Blues* at the Sugarmill; I'm right in the middle of a run of nights. Your Demise, Letlive & Spycatcher; on a late. Spycatcher return the following month along with Everytime I Die, Trash Talk & Defeater; and again I'm on a late. Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly at the Box in Crewe; Pezza's wedding.

Although in regard to Pezza's wedding I won't believe it's actually real until I'm sitting in the ?? the following morning having breakfast. The delay in sending out invitations, the lack of information, reluctance in communication and most worryingly almost complete absence of excitement all make us think perhaps this ain't happening. Yet still it appears it is! Even so we have paid extra on our hotel rooms to ensure we can get a refund and all gifts & outfits will be purchased at the last minute and receipts retained. Not very romantic is it?

The planning of my Staffordshire wedding (as opposed to my Merseyside one) was so exciting and the planning brought such delight, it is sad that this doesn't appear to be the case for poor old Pezza.

* Matters are worse, Cerebral Ballzy are supporting.

Costa Crazy

Saw an ex-colleague this morning talking to the sugar in Costa.

As she left with her take-away beverage I gave her a smile and a little wave, but she clearly didn't recognise me. I wouldn't have recognised her if she hadn't drawn attention to herself by conversing with the sugar stand. Washed out, ashen & thin; where as before she was healthy, active & fit. A specialist nurse who gradually just faded away from the hospital under rumours of poor mental health (depression leading to a breakdown), which would be confirmed by talking to the sugar I suppose?

It always bothered me that her loss wasn't talked about, over a period of months she just disappeared. Even gossip was shockingly minimal for the health service. What I did hear, some time later, was that after lengthy bouts of sickness she was eventually dismissed.

A shame, I held her in very high regard (she was always very supportive and encouraged me to undertake teaching & training both inside & outside the hospital trust); she had an exceptional knowledge and much experience. She always gave the impression of being in control. Goes to show that sometimes despite best efforts you can't always escape your demons, the voices in your head and you never really know what goes on in the heads or homes of your colleagues.

I'd hate for my colleagues to know what was going on in my head.

Bitter Coffee

Reubens coffee gossips remain, still steadfastly present whenever I visit and thoroughly awful in their attitudes, opinions and whole damn demeaner. They hardly make for a conjusive & restful environment, but the coffee and the vibe (when they're not there) in Reubens is the best in Newcastle. Invariably they only ever enter once I've ordered and am sitting down so I can't escape, usually selecting a table near me.

We're all set for digital

Well that was fairly easy.

 We are set for digital (... at the moment)

He's an appealing little fella isn't he?

On your marks. Get set. NO!!!

Have to retune the televisions later today (all four of them). No doubt that'll be a joyous task; a complete pain in the arse, which is sure to mess with all pre-existing settings and will take an age. That is of course if I can remember how to retune the various differing TV's in the first place; I will have mislaid all the instruction booklets, even for the television we purchased last Thursday.

If only there was somewhere to obtain help; a website, a selection of informative adverts broadcast across the various channels for the last few years and a leaflet pushed through every houses letter box.

If only …

Wicked Blue

After having my haircut this morning I witnessed a young family sitting around a table in the Hogshead, the children were drinking pop and the parents were on Blue Wkd. Why would anyone want to drink Blue Wkd at ten o'clock in the morning; why would anyone want to drink Wkd …

I believe there are very few occasions to drink before noon, I can understand something cold and crisp on a sunny day but mid-morning on a damp day in Newcastle-under-Lyme. Nah!

Blue Wkd is beyond the realms of even the most desperate of alcoholics; those who gather in Weatherspoons from their opening at 8am for breakfast to last orders at mid-night. It doesn't even deliver much bang (alcohol) for it's buck, but I doubt the truly dependant would turn their nose up at it (although I bet it's right at the bottom of their chosen tipples?)

Cash my coins

A fog of grump on entering the Britannia building society, lengthy waits and begrudging service. Why would the teller behind the counter be so bad-tempered that I chose to pay a few bags of coins into my own account? It's not like I was attempting to pay-in magic beans or cash gold ingots, just four hundred pieces of legal British tender.Twenty bags of fifty pence pieces all correctly counted & bagged.

Of course she still asked me when my mortgage and home & contents insurance was due for renewal and if I felt the money in my account was really working for me. Perhaps if they spent less time trying to sell their products and more time performing essential building society type tasks everyone (staff & customers alike) might be happier?

In the same way that the priority service of the Post Office should be allowing people to post things, WH Smiths shouldn't feel the need to sell you sweets and chocolates once you have reached the till and Supermarkets shouldn't offer stamps or mobile phone top up's when we as the customer are perfectly capable of asking for them if required.

A reoccuring rant I agree.

Chlorine gets in your eyes

They asked me how I knew my true love was true

I of course replied "Something here inside cannot be denied"

They said "Someday you'll find all who love are blind".

When your heart's on fire, you must realize chlorine gets in your eyes.

So I chaffed them and I gaily laughed to think they could doubt my love.

Yet today my love has flown away, I am without my love.

Now laughing friends deride tears I cannot hide.

So I smile and say "When a lovely flame dies, chlorine gets in your eyes"

(Chlorine gets in your eyes,  Chlorine gets in your eyes)

Chlorine-gets-in-your-EYES

The End of Summer

We do appear to have bypassed summer and have gone directly to autumn (not stopping to wear shorts in public, enjoy the garden or get a suntan; nevermind collecting £200!). The leaves are rapidly falling from the trees, it's wet. I need to cut the lawn (okay need is a bit strong); I'd would like to cut the lawn before the weather really breaks and it becomes a boggy-soggy mess … again.

We've only managed a pitiful two barbecues since June. The likelihood of a glorious September seems remote as we hurtle towards October, a month that has never been described as nice, nevermind glorious. The best October can hope for is mild.

I very much like ...

The Horrible Crowes- "Elsie"

Jobs List

A week off work to make significant inroads into my rapidly growing list of jobs & tasks. When the holiday forms were submitted I had this floating week unaccounted for, all other weeks that coincided with school holiays were rejected and there is little point having a week off to be by yourself with few plans. But if I had to have a week off when I really didn't want one maybe it would be wise that it coincided with EJT's return to school so I could provide practical support at one of the most stressful weeks of the school year.

Since then (it was over ten months ago) the details of M.O.C. (management of change) have been confirmed. This week will provide me with time to prepare and write my CV & expressions of interest form, whilst also allowing me to get my head into the right place and complete all those niggling jobs.

I also required quite a few week-ends off during September & October and a week-off made it easier. Of course I wasn't doing the off-duty at this point, now it's easier to manipulate my shifts so that they are equally beneficial to both the hospital and myself.

So I start the week with something low key; some shopping, registering with a new GP in Stone and making a joint appointment to talk fertility. Then back home to start the great clear out (draws & cupboards) and establishing some sort of order. It may take some time?

Shit List

Katie Price / Jordan

Will someone please starve her

of the oxygen of publicity

Hangover

"I ain't never drinking again ..."

The Hokey-Cokey

Clearly the last fortnight of hokey-cokey shifts (in out / in out) have not suited me. I've been short tempered, irritable, irritating, poor company and all in all a bit of a grump. I proportion blame on all that is going on …

Previously all to well documented and sure to be the subject of much writing to come?

I very much like ...

Chuck Ragan / Sam Russo / Jimmy Islip / Helen Chambers

Speacialist Subject Records Four Way Split LP

There's Paracetamol in Pineapple

Today I felt unnecessarily irritable and tired; combine this with a head-ache arriving and a sense of righteous indignation. In a grumpy mood I was ripe for a dust-up, so the lady in Tesco denying my purchase of pain-relief was always going to get it.

“You're only allowed three items containing paracetamol, I can't sell you this!”

As far as I could see up to this point I had only purchased fruit & vegetables and knew I only had ONE packet of paracetamol in my trolley. Despite my protests she still insisted that she shoudn't, couldn't and wouldn't sell it me, which brought the supervisor over alerted by the lengthy queue swiftly developing behind me.

At my suggestion she eventually checked my receipt & purchases to that point and saw that right enough whilst I had indeed only one lone box of Paracetamol in my trolley the checkout operator had swiped it through thrice.

Once again no apology offered, just …“Well you can't be too careful can you?” as a statement of justification. “You can't can you … must remember to check my receipt!”

Although if I was going to do myself in I certainly wouldn't chose an overdose of Paracetamol and I certainly don't think I'd be buying £50 of fresh fruit & veg, I may have depressive tendencies but I'm not wasteful!

Tall Story

As 2011 the transfer window draws top a close, at almost the very last minute it is announced that Peter Crouch is joining Stoke City FC*; a record ten million pound signing and adding significant height to the already giants (size wise) of the Premier League

I wonder what Abbey (Clancy, as was) is going to think of the Potteries? From the pictures I've seen online one thing is for sure she's going to have to buy a coat (… and some trousers … and a jumper … and a bobble-hat) I look forward to seeing them around Stoke, shopping at Longton Tesco's, grabbing a kebab at Eastern Delight, wandering round Trentham Gardens.

* Along with Cameron Jerome from Birmingham, Wilson Palacios from Tottenham, Matthew Upson from West Ham, Daniel Bachmann from AKA Austria and Jonathan Woodgate from Tottenham; but they don't generate the same headlines.