Feet

Someone posted this on Facebook, sadly my feet do not fit into such a narrow demographic (Roman'ish).  My feet are horrible.

I'm jealous of those people with pretty feet, mine are these flat ugly hunks of meat that end me. Problematic from my teens with countless episodes of ingrowing toenails; caused in equal part by inappropriate youthful footwear, unfortunate episodes (stubbed, clubbed, clipped, cracked & crushed) and lack of proper care. Leaving them as they are now; unsightly & unloved.

My feet are never destined to be objects of lust or desired by some foot fetishist or pervert. You'd have to be a real pervert to get your kicks out of these slabs.

Pale, dry, hard skinned and flat beyond words, with minimal arch. When the weight of life (and Rupert) is applied they spread; closer to flippers with digits than human feet

No nail on the right, a rhino horn on the left that tends to not only grow outwards but upwards as well. It's almost genetic, destiny at least. My Father and both my Grandfathers had  disfigured feet, and have (had) these almost identical thick discoloured nails on their great toes (the 'one' that went to market) sustained by trauma or fool hardy endever. 

I think my Dad dropped a paving slab on his many years ago, my toes have taken more abuse than can accurately be recoded- pierced with stiletto heel at concert, crushed by dropping a tin of industrial sized paint, stubbed my catching a shoelace on a end fixture causing me to fall very heavily*

My feet in summery ...

Left Foot

Went to market ... horn nail.

Stayed at home ... hammer toe.

Roast beef ... bends to the right.

Had none ... looks okay'ish currently.

Went wee wee wee all the way home ... undersized, chubby, minimal nail & turns out.

Right Foot

Went to market ... no nail

Stayed at home ... thin.

Roast beef ... also bends to the right

Had none ... too close to roast beef, unable to make his own decisions (move independently).

Went wee wee wee all the way home ... pointy.

I've been full of good intentions, numerous devices purchased to address these super-tough nails, to grind, file and mould. Creams, lotions & potions brought to apply to soften and moisturise. But like everything I rapidly tire of applying, become bored, lazy and half-hearted of their care

Foolish considering that I spend so much time on my feet and walk so far, their upkeep should be a higher priority.

My work shoes have seen better days. I have some insoles that slip inside, but they are old and also in desperate need of replacement. Flat, giving the impression they have been run over by a steam roller or stood on by an elephant (which I guess is fairly accurate) 

The sad truth is that I'm fairly careless in all elements of my own upkeep, everything simply seems like too much effort.

I do take some consideration in my personal grooming; hygiene is important when I'm in public, but I do have a tendency to let this slip when I'm housebound. It has recently been pointed out that there is a smell of burning 'south of the equator' 

Please dear, don't sniff my pants!

 

I get my haircut about every six weeks. Shave intermittently. Moisturise on occasion.

Try to brush my teeth twice a day for the recommended time, sometimes a consolatory scrub or swish with mouthwash only takes place. Occasionally I use dental sticks to clean between my teeth and gums, but flossing is a chore to far. Don't visit the dentist as frequently as I should due largely to fear following the treatments and trauma of childhood and especially my teens. I guess like a lot of things it comes down to being a bit of a jessie.

Tasks (chores) for my week-off: Buy new work shoes and insoles. Begin a rigid program of foot care and cream application. I could even book myself in with the chiropodist?!? Give them a warning, you better clear your afternoon to deal with these bad boys.

* Which also sustained an untreatable fracture to my left patella. Every time time I knelt for twelve months a convulsing electric shock would surge from my knee to my brain. It calmed down after a year or so, but kneeling ever since has never been comfortable.

 

Sleep ...

"Sleep, so deep in that first hour you could chop down the door with an axe." 

 

Taken from the poem Night Fever by Simon Daniels

Three Down

Reached the midpoint, three down / three to go. It's been an uneventful few days, nothing to report or recall. Probably for the best. Today's a lost day, utterly wasted. 

Thirty-six hours between finishing this morning and returning to the ward tomorrow. Not enough time to get back into a normal daytime routine; too much to embrace the nocturnal one. I thought of staying in bed today (as my body so wanted), then trying to stay-up tonight. But what to do during the night? I can't exactly go out. Stoke-on-Trent is hardly New York City; less the city that doesn't sleep more the city that goes to bed before eleven with a warm cup of cocoa.

So I would just end up sat in front of the television, eventually my eyes would get heavy and I'd end up dosing off. Fail

Got up before midday. Drove to the supermarket. Picked up some necessary groceries. Returned home. Bit of meal prep and then zoned out in front of the TV. Where I remain waiting for Liz to come back from school.

Horrible Run

Start horrible run of nights this evening, obviously feel a bit depressed and oppressed at that prospect. I guess this is the price I have to pay for recent frivolity & jollity; we have to work to pay for the good times; the gigs, short breaks and the holidays.

Even so, knowing this doesn't make the thought of departing the house shortly any easier. It makes me feel a bit sad; especially knowing that I'll be out of circulation for a while. Realistically I don't expect to be back in the land of the living for a whole week.

I know Liz isn't happy, she feels lonely, very isolated and it has a significant disruption on both our lives. Matters aren't helped by her parents being away, who would usually provide some respite and escape when it all gets a bit too much. I wish I could find a bit of respite from it myself, but I have leant to accept that it's just the way it is at the moment. 

Although acceptance of something doesn't necessarily equate with actually being happy with something, and that's certainly the case with nocturnal working.

I shouldn't go on, I'm acutely aware that my dissatisfaction is becoming a recurrent theme of my blog, something that I vowed wouldn't happen but feels unavoidable. It is so all consuming, especially in 2013 it seems.

Name in newsprint

Yesterday's incident on the A50 has made it to print; pleased to see the eventual outcome was a good one. I feel more peaceful knowing he didn't fall / jump and it makes the whole event more of a story than the tragedy I feared it could have turned into. 

Fear I sound a bit of a twerp, but at least it's accurate and I haven't been misquoted. A fear that plagued me following that initial conversation. 

http://www.thisisstaffordshire.co.uk/Man-bridge-jump-threat-closes-A50/story-18799381-detail/story.html#axzz2RU1QQvUK

Man in bridge jump threat closes A50

Commuters faced long tailbacks when a man threatened to jump from a dual carriageway flyover. Police were forced to divert traffic away as they closed both carriageways of the A50 at Meir at 8.30am yesterday. Drivers dialled 999 after spotting a man 'dangling' from the Meir Tunnel.

Rupert Todd, aged 40, from Stone, was driving back from Longton after dropping his wife at work when he spotted the man.

 

He said: "I couldn't believe it when I saw him. He was dangling very precariously for three or four minutes while police diverted traffic away. You feel helpless in that situation, there was nothing we could have done for him. A policeman was speaking to him when I passed. They did a brilliant job of getting cars out of the way and getting him back to safety. It did make me feel quite jittery. "It's just not something you expect to see."

A spokesman for Staffordshire Police said: "Police were in attendance at an incident above the A50 at Meir Park. Officers closed off a stretch of the A50, both east and westbound, following calls from members of the public regarding a man in a distressed state on the bridge. The man has been safely detained by officers and was treated at the scene by colleagues from the ambulance service before being taken to the University Hospital of North Staffordshire. Diversions were in place for a short time and the A50 was reopened A50 by 9.20am. Staffordshire Police would like to thank motorists for their patience."

Memories are made of this ...

 

Dave & Rupert Wolverhampton Civic Hall

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SmeCWkP7J-A&sns=em

What a night, what a very special night

Already an old joke ...

 

Distressing sight on drive home following dropping Liz off at school. It's always so congested along the A50 heading toward the Britannia roundabout; so I thought I'd turn right heading towards Meir Park and then drop down into Stone the back way.

Heading along as I passed under the Meir tunnel and towards the Meir Park turn-off the traffic suddenly became supremely congested, an ambulance flew passed me swiftly followed by a police car. Assumed it was simply a bit of a bump, a fender-bender, not really news on the A50 during rush hour.

It was only then, looking up that I noticed the man (young, early twenties perhaps?) hanging very precariously from the overpass*. His bike discarded on the walk-way and he'd clambered over; one foot maintained purchase the other dangled as he clung to the barrier. As policeman a few metres away, apparently trying to talk him down (or off more accurately)

Having closed down the traffic passing in both directions the police swiftly redirected the traffic, but for the few minutes I sat there waiting I couldn't help but look on helplessly. Unable to offer help, unable to really understand. To reach that level of utter despair that the only solution is to jump off a bridge onto a major carriageway during rush hour. 

Witnessing this really takes the shine off your day, can't help but wonder about his motives, his back-story and the outcome. I hope the police were able to convince him to move to the other side of the barrier?

I'll admit that it upset me, shook me up more than I'd readily admit. Once clear of the disruption I pulled the car into a lay-by, just to compose myself and put a warning online before continuing my journey. A case of highlighting the potential delays on the road, rather than the reason.

 By the time I had reached Stone I had received a message on Twitter from the Sentinel, and a subsequent conversation with one of their reporters. Can't help feeling that even just recalling the details I was exploiting the chaps misery. 

A few hours later I wonder about the outcome, whatever I do as I waste my morning (Cleaner Wednesday) my mind continues to wander back to him clambering up there (feels more like a case of falling than jumping) His lack of dignity with his grey track suit bottoms falling & his top riding up exposing his back and the crack of his arse. His discarded bicycle. His obvious failing grip. The despair he must have felt. 

Did he regret it once he climbed over? What motivated his decision, did he do it spontaneously or was it long thought out? Did the police talk him down or did he jump?

*Some wag on my Facebook timeline pointed out that he was perhaps upset about the break-up of JLS.

JLS

News reaches me that JLS have decided to call it a day, despite their dubious musical output no one has a bad word to say about them; professional, generous, socially aware, committed to a number of charities and important causes. They seem like nice lads, friends originally and a band(?) before Cowell's involvement. Love 'em or loathe 'em they achieved a major breakthrough for boy-bands of colour in the last area of UK musical prejudice.

Consequently I think it's a bit of a shame.

It's worse than we thought they're dead, no wonder they're splitting up. 

You can always rely on Murdock's empire to report the important news of the day, meanwhile in the real world ... 

Under staffed oversubscribed

Although they told me the skill mix was poor (hence coming of today’s day shift), that wasn’t quite the truth. The skill mix was fine, just the actual staffing on the ward was poor. Rather typically. It often feels that every shift I work seems to be either horrible or just short staffed, frequently both. I should expect no better, it's just power to the cause now. 

I could feel that earlier optimism that I'd deeply ingested before leaving the house drain as I was confronted by a busy ward, with demanding parents and those reduced staffing numbers. 

Never knowing what I'm going to be greeted by, on arriving at the wards male staff changing room I have taken to sitting on the toilet, trousers down by my ankles, taking deep breaths in and out for a few minutes. Trying to encourage a sense of peace to descend and welcome a spirit of calm to my working environment.

In and out. In and out. In and out. In and out. In and out. In and out. In and out. In and out. In and out. In and out.

 

Optimism is rapidly draining

Had an absolutely superb week-end; so am I hitting the week ahead with a new sense of optimism and buoyancy? Mmmmmmm ... ... ... not exactly.

I really am trying to be more sanguine, a positive mind set can only help surely?

"Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement. Nothing can be done without hope or confidence".

Helen Keller

Although on nights again; it's not the most brutal of runs. Tonight is a favour (coming off a day shift on Tuesday 'cause of a grotty skill mix) and then Friday, Saturday & Sunday. It's the next week I'm not so sure about, I finish this run on Monday morning and then back in on a second run which begins on Tuesday night. Not even the chance to get back into a daytime regime, foolish to try to do so in fact. We'll see how optimistic I am next Tuesday?

I had hoped that my planned appraisal last week would provide me with the opportunity  to raise the issues of my heavy night shift bias, but as previously mentioned an appraisal failed to materialise. With this heavy run of nights I can't see it being rescheduled for a good few weeks. My next day shift that's not at a week-end is seventeen days away and I have no days shifts currently rostered beyond then.

That optimism is rapidly draining.

Port Vale Promoted

Congratulations to Port Vale FC on securing promotion from N Power league two to league one following their draw against Northampton yesterday. I'm fairly partisan about football; you tend to have to be when you have moved around a bit and are saddled with yolk of being born in Walsall. But what's good for Port Vale, is good for the Potteries. And what is good for the Potteries is certainly good for me.

I just also hope that Stoke City can find a bit of last minute form and avoid relegation. Their return to the Championship would have a huge detrimental effect on the local economy. I have a terrible feeling that it's going to go right to the wire and it will eventually come down to the play-offs. 

Record Store Day

Up at five am, heading out to Music Mania to queue up in order to obtain some of this years exclusive releases. It's perhaps one of my favourite days of the year.

It sounds like lunacy when you tell people you intend to get up exceptionally early to stand in line outside a record shop. The simple truth is that record shops made me and I am tremendously fond of them; so heading out early was hardly a hardship ... ... ... I couldn't sleep 'cause of excitement anyway.

Liz was full of the best intentions on going to sleep; to get up, join me and purchase a few items herself (which she planned up stick up on eBay, make a relative fortune) but when the alarm went off under four hours after returning home from Manchester her intensions had diminished somewhat.

There's a part of me that thinks the RSD concept has got a little out of hand, especially with the hundreds (thousands worldwide) releases that arrive on the shelves in very low numbers, tempting loyal music buyers to part with their hard earned cash. I can't think of a solution or a better way of doing it, these releases create interest and a scrum, but as I say record shops are so important to me I'm willing to go along for the ride.

It is hugely disheartening to see many of the releases appearing on eBay within hours of going on sale, but this is the way of the world I suppose? The pleasure of picking something up you really desire, knowing you got there early enough, you've earned it. 

The events of Music Mania were pretty special, they brought out hot cups of coffee & tea to the queuing punters, followed by the Staffordshire staple oatcakes and then homemade cookies. You didn't get this from HMV, no wonder they went bump?!?

I was ninth in the queue; when doors opened at 8am and I reached the counter I was simply handed with a wink a white plastic bag with 'Rupert' written on it. Which on brief inspection already contained the top ten items on my want list. Consequently I obtained everything I really wanted; there were a few others that I forgo'ed (interesting pressings, soundtracks, etc) because I had reached my allotted budget. Some may come up over the coming months, other may never be seen again. This is life.

Later in the day we (Liz had risen by this point) went to a Record Fair / celebration of Record Store event at a local pub (The Old Brown Jug), we thought it would be a bit of Pop Up Shop, but it turned out to be a bit shit ... a utter damp squibb sadly.

There was a stall selling badges, screen printed t-shirts and the like, Manchester / Madchester heavy and pretty substandard by comparison to others similar. But because the event was so generally poor I gave it more attention than perhaps I normally would. 

My eye was drawn to a little postcard of a poster promoting a Hold Steady gig, looking at it further it corresponded with the New York show that took place the day we landed in America on our honeymoon which I fell upon (but didn't attend) wandering around whilst Liz slept off the journey. Didn't seem to really represent his work, but I told him I liked it, etc.

"I've got a few others that I've done"

Then pulled out a similar reproduction for a Hold Steady / Gaslight Anthem gig, the GLA at Manchester where I first saw them, the GLA / Chuck Ragan gig at the Apollo (famous for Chuck being pronounced mediocre during 'The Boat', obvious lunacy)

Obviously I intended to buy all of 'em, he had a few others which didn't really interest me and as I was paying explaining how important all these events were ... he chirps up (bit embarrassed & dismissive) ... "I've got this!"  ... and hands me a little postcard, turn it over ... the Big Country 30th anniversary Crossing tour.

 Nearly fell over! Everything comes a full circle.

Give me love ...

As has rapidly become apparent I firmly believe that if you look hard enough life can give you some great stories to tell and share. This whole blog is maybe testament to that. 

Tonight we were helping out with Love Hope Strength at the Big Country gig in Manchester, and having a lovely time in doing so (a total blast). Collecting oral swobs from volunteers to go on the bone marrow donation register. A reward for doing so is early entry to the gig, hear the soundcheck, access all areas ... a bit of privilege. 

Like all things we play to our strengths; Liz was giving out leaflets at the door as the punters came in and directing them to the stall at the back of the venue to see me and the other volunteers to sign-up.

Dutifully each person who came through the door was jumped on by Mrs. T ... including the road crew ... venue staff ... touring entourage ... band members family & friends and Mark Brzezicki (the bands drummer) ... who apparently was most put out by Liz's enquiry, not being recognised, and swiftly showed her his tour pass & lanyard.

Most people would be quite embarrassed by this apparent foe parr , not Liz. She thought "...  he looked familiar, just assumed that I'd seen him at other gigs!" (true I suppose?) Liz isn't really star struck, the only time I've ever seen her go all girly & giggly was meeting Chuck Ragan, but to be honest I was the same (he's like Hugh Jackman but more rugged) It is perhaps worth mentioning that of all the bands and artists I have introduced her too Big Country are probably her favourite ... and she didn't even recognise their flaming drummer.

I had two major goals for the show, the first to personally sign-up ten people for the bone marrow register, the second to talk to Mr. B. He always appears approachable and has been friendly on previous brief encounters. Just to tell him that when I was eleven the most exciting thing I had ever heard was the drum introduction to "In A Big Country" and hearing it now takes me right back. To thank him, thought he might like this? Obviously this was somewhat negated somewhat by Liz's incident, especially as he didn't really see the funny side apparently.

Tune in on Wednesday when Liz asks Jamie Watson if he's done his RE homework???

The Adventures of Employee Man

 

Red Socks

As I trudge along the M6 in the back of this rickety cold ambulance Margret Thatcher's funeral is currently taking place . Thankfully this way I avoid the pomp and ceremony, and the blanket TV coverage.

Sadly it is difficult to participate in the Wear Red campaign (a protest against the obscene cost of Thatcher's funeral) when your uniform is blue ... but my pants are red and so is the trim of my socks. 

Whilst I resent the huge public cost, I'm not even sure I want to show solidarity with many involved. Since her death I have often been deeply ashamed of how the left have behaved; the protests, the rhetoric, the bile spat. These people don't represent the view of socialism I hold anymore; a true socialism of the heart, compassion. Neither right or left illustrates this, compassion is sadly lacking in so much of modern politics. 

I've commented that she's dead, she can't hear you now. The retort that she can't but history can. An example of the blind self-importance of some. I insist that their protests will only remain as a minor footnote in history, not the major marker they think.

Look at those who actually protest funerals; lunatics, fundamentalists & extremists. Not the most logical or proactive members of society for sure, and certainly not the sort of people I wish to be associated with. 

Transfer ...

Patient transfer to Liverpool this morning, a blessing as it allows me to escape the ward for a few hours. I stepped up for this job with zero hesitation. The child is well, accompanied by both parents, so potentially it's an easy job.

I'm still struggling to recover from my previous few weeks shifts, yesterday's lone day-off sadly provided minimal respite or rest. Friday can't come soon enough, I just need to survive this afternoon & tomorrow and I'll be good. All good.

I have my appraisal tomorrow supposedly, I struggled to motivate myself yesterday to even complete the necessary paperwork. So I've taken it on the transfer to read and complete on the return (patient free) journey. All the paperwork seems to have altered, the majority needing to be completed in the actual meeting rather than before. I just need to give it some consideration, tidy it up and ink in my previous pencil scribblings; this way it presents the appearance that I've at least given it all some thought. 

I don't really have any specific goals or achievements, beyond doing a good job and leaving work at work. I strive to be valued and appreciated, but I don't think that should be my number one motivation. I'd like to gain a further sense of ownership, perhaps in something that actually interests me; not Health & Safety, Infection Control or Asthma (roles passed to me 'cause nobody else wants 'em) I try to think "What is my heart drawn to?" but career-wise my heart is deadened.

Up 50p

Half a pound on, so in real terms static. I'm happy with that, it gives me a starting point for further loss next week or the week after depending on shifts. At least it means I have shifted the Cornish gain. Even the condescending couple weren't there at weigh-in, replaced by a far more approachable pair. Overall significantly less painful than earlier imagined.

Gingerbread

 All day I haven't been able to stop thinking about a Gingerbread men. Walking through Stone this morning, it appeared that every bakery and grocery store had a little ginger fella staring out from their shop window. Tempting me.

So I gave in and brought myself a nice gingerbread couple; a comfort if I had significant weight gain or a treat if I (miraculously) lost.

B2BLD's

Three back-to-back long-days are hard, although long-days aren't as long as they used to be so the turn around isn't so brutal, three is still very hard going. Perhaps 'cause of the miles walked, on Saturday I walked 8.66 miles, Sunday 9.21 miles and Monday 8.64 miles; 26.51 miles in total. Almost the exact distance of marathon; no wonder my feet are sore and my legs ache?

Thought I was pretty much in control on Saturday and Sunday, the shifts rolled along with only the occasional flutter of anxiety, but Monday was a different matter. Throughout Mondays shift,  from the moment I walked on the ward to the moment I left almost thirteen hours later, I never felt in control or on top. 

Only having two patients made me feel this way. Once again being rostered as HDURue I obviously had the sickest patient (no problem with that), to lighten the load on my colleagues I had another, who happened to also be the demanding patient. A combustible mother, no more than a child herself, whose son had been serious unwell (in hospital for a month already) and of whom many social problems had subsequently come to light. They remain with us to ensure a safe and full recovery, reestablish feeding, establish a bit of normality and resolve the numerous parenting / home / family issues.

I'd of had more than only two children (and their parents) in my care, but even only with this pair I really struggled. 

The sick one just got sicker and sicker, eventually deteriorating so significantly that he required moving to CICU (intensive care), intubation and eventual transfer to Birmingham Children's Hospital. This all came to a head only a couple of hours before the end of my shift.

I can't help but reflect back and consider that I had missed something or had become blasé? I try to comfort myself that he "wasn't right" from the moment he presented in hospital and swiftly became ill'er, that his cardiac condition (a birth defect) only had one outcome, but it offers cold comfort.  

The parents also young, under-educated, fair to say rough and obviously poor as church mice, were just overwhelmed. How do you explain that their newly born first child only twelve days old, is so unwell, broken from the very beginning? They didn't understand the need to upset their son with often painful tests and uncomfortable investigations, simply to keep him alive. I tried to explain things at a level they would understand, but they were numb, too confused to process the information given. 

The demanding parent became more demanding as her son improved, I know I will return tomorrow for a day full of discussions with social workers, health visitors, GP's and the like to ensure the ongoing safety of both the child and his mother.

I honestly don't think I could have returned today, I'm anxious at the prospect of returning tomorrow after a single day away.

Just focus on the week-end ahead; Big Country in Manchester on Friday and Record Store Day (The Shipyards Christmas Day in many ways) on Saturday. I hope for a jubilant celebration and also a peaceful rest.

Sweet (bitter) reward

This is probably one of the most desired coffees I have indulged in for a longtime. All through yesterday the thought of sitting in Stone Costa coffee this morning actually kept me going. It's just a shame it corresponds with Fruit Tuesday?!?

It's certainly a sweet (bitter) reward; it is true that at heart I am rather a simple man.

It's a shame that none of the Costa honeys are working today; pretty, funny, friendly, bright twenty something's that always bring a bit of cheer to the day. Nothing against the chaps, but ... ... ...

Again unbelievably busy, but it offered a pleasant thirty  minute break before some grocery shopping, returning home to prepare a few meals for the week ahead and a quiet sit down in front of the television with a film. In truth I'm not up to much more.

I am conscious that it is going to be difficult to get-up tomorrow, it would be very easy to pull a sickie, but that's not my way. Focus on the goal, focus on the week-end. 

Fruit Tuesday

I bite the bullet and return to Slimming World tonight; I resent Fruit (and limited fluids) Tuesday, but never more than after a run of heavy shifts when going off plan would provide much comfort. But I need to take my medicine, we all hate the taste of medicine, and return for a weigh-in this evening.

It's hard to not feel that I'm still carrying some of the excess of Cornwall; whilst I've reigned it in significantly since I then remember the odd chocolate popped here & there, the visit to the Bengal Lodge on Friday night, not to forget the disruption that last weeks nights caused. All off-plan, all that will make tonight's weigh-in harder.

Of course I could weigh myself up stairs now, confirm the damage (approximately), but then the bad news (it's bound to be bad) would impact on the whole day and I don't need to be in a grump all day ... even if it's all my own fault.

No, you sign-up to these things, it's important to do it properly. Go tonight with Liz, present a united front, weigh-in, deal with the consequences (take the medicine) and have a better week & be lighter next week.

I'm okay with the up's and down's of weight gain and loss, what I struggle with is the judgemental nature of the pair who actually weigh me in and their condescending attitude. I just want a cheerful hello, to allow me to step on the scales and then record the data, nothing more.

I'm also frustrated by many of my fellow Slimming World'ers, who often seem bewildered by foods. I'm also no doubt a little bit jealous of their weight-loss whilst not knowing what a butternut squash is. I find it very difficult to stay for group; the lengthy process of clapping each member who's lost weight and hearing the explanations of those who have not (excesses of holidays, chocolate popped here and there, meals out, etc) 

I guess at the very heart of it I am deeply ashamed that I even have to attend such a group, that my will power isn't strong enough to just eat normally. That it's never been strong enough, that I have always over-indulged, eaten for comfort, let it all get out of control. ASHAMED Ashamed that the short term satisfaction of excess eating outweighs the long term benefits of being thinner (healthier)

So today I starve myself, hoping that it will buy me a couple of extra ounces lost, a penance for all the sins of the previous week.

On a lone day-off between three long-days and two long-days, the sad truth is that I could really do with toast!

Margret. One woman: a nation divided

Margret. One woman: a nation divided. 

Very clever. It's certainly worth picking up tomorrow's Guardian, as it is every Saturday ... obviously

End of Watch

The inevitable ending doesn't make it any less heartbreaking. Highly recommended.

Sightseers

"He's not a person, he's a Daily Mail reader"

Sightseers 

 

Off a cliff ...

Woke in the middle of the night feeling highly anxious, for perhaps the very first time in my life I had to control myself to not ...

Get up ... Open the bedroom door ... Descend to the hotels reception ... Exit ... Cross the road ... Wander across the scrubland ... and jump off the cliff.

I lay there feeling quite panicked, clutching the bed. Liz remained dead to the world obviously and I didn't quite know what to do. Seemed a bit extreme to lean over ...

"Hey Liz, sorry to disturb you at this earlybhour but I have a rather strong urge to go and jump off a cliff!"

Despite frequently having moments of despair and thoughts of self-destruction I have never had such an acute episode and one that required will-power to stay still. 

With hindsight this morning I wonder if it was actually an extreme and vivid dream provoked by anxiety at the prospect of returning home and to normality?