Photo Bomb....
Bake Off
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| Howard, crying when Ali was kicked out |
It was a shame as both guys are pure gold .
Hollywood take note..... If a movie audience takes to a film cast as easily and as well as the tv audience has with the bake off contestants then you would have a sure fire movie hit on your hands.
As the women jostled each other for the top places,allegiances have changed somewhat. Grandmother Christine, the wisecracking Welsh gal Becca and the mousy but now much more likeable Francis have all gone up a gear, and are snapping at sulky Ruby ( oh for fuck's sake STOP all that self depreciating shit at the judges' table Ruby) and smug Kimberley' s heels.
In the end Glenn cried over his disastrous buns, so we just knew poor Howard was out, which was a huge shame, as the Yorkshireman should indeed have his own tv show.
I love this programme
You wouldn't guess would you?
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| Glen flipping his panettone |
With all of this cake thing ,going on
I am doing kind of ok at weightwatchers
Been going two weeks
Lost half a stone
(7 lbs)
My Friend Tom Gowans
My good friend Tom at
Lives a rural Angolan life of adventure and excitement
Today I suspect he has been bitten by a snake
And still he's dealing with the problem, with a slug of whisky
, a band aid and with an old fashioned
" spirit that won the war"
John Wayne is alive and very much kicking ( albeit with only one foot)
In Africa
And today I got all excited over a wool hat x
The Hat! ( photo bombed)
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| There's always someone here to steal your limelight |
The Still House lady who looks like a typical farmer's wife
Called yesterday with my hat, she knitted from the Sylvia and Irene's wool
And a very stylish and warm hat it is too
I paraded myself around the house in it as Chris arrived back from Church
And he looked me up and down saying somewhat dryly
" You look like a medieval serf"
" I think the hat is mighty fine" I said somewhat hurt by his comment
" I' m not talking about the hat" he added " that's impressive!
......I was talking about your general appearance "
Hey ho
Ninja Glad
Yesterday, when we were relaxing with a cuppa and rubbish tv
there was a very quiet rustling at the front door.
Another bag of homemade scones had been surreptitiously left on the door knob
Who had been a calling?
Yes another ninja esque visit by Auntie Glad
Suicide Isn't Painless
Yesterday, Tom Stephenson wrote an eloquent and rather sad blog piece about amongst other things rural suicide.
I flippantly requested that he lightened up a little with today's posting, a thing he duly did, but once the suicidal fuse paper was lit so to speak, I couldn't quite get the subject out of my head this morning.
I think most of us, at one time or another in our lives have been affected by a suicide. Whether it be, god forbid, from the actions of a loved one, a relative, a friend or a colleague or indeed from in the actions of a complete stranger whose last final attempt at self determination affected your commute to work or daily routine.
All of us have been touched by its fallout
Several years ago I remember being responsible for the planning and implementation of nursing care of a patient who had paralysed herself in a suicide attempt.I will call her Anna.
The woman, was acutely depressed and even though she was paraplegic she remained desperate and resolute that she wanted to end it all.
We nursed her on a mattress on the floor to prevent her throwing herself face first out of bed. my ward nurses observed her constantly as even one moment left unsupervised gave her the opportunity to self harm, by stabbing herself with smashed crockery or even hanging herself with the tracking hoist that ran over her bed.
It was a desperate, sad and dreadful time for her and for the ward staff who had to endure the daily stresses of this kind of nursing care without the intervention of an impotent psychiatric service.
But as a team, we soldiered on.
After weeks of keeping Anna safe under the " protection" of the mental Heath act, the psychiatric services started to respond more favourably in providing trained psychiatric nursing input and our own therapists and nurses started to make tiny chinks of rehabilitation improvement with a woman, who despite being a successful professional in her previous life, still held on to the desperate desire to end her own life.
Our ward nursed Anna for several months, after which she was transferred to the unit's rehabilitation ward. We all hoped that we had kept her alive, long enough for psychiatric interventions to gain some sort of foothold, and that the depression would eventually lift, but the truth of the matter was that deep down we were just glad that she was now someone else's problem to deal with. Caring for someone who wants to die, and who seriously wants to die,is dreadfully hard work.
The misery within the person seems to pervade anything and everything.....and is a recipe for trouble on a rehabilitation unit where everyone is swimming in very choppy waters.
On the surface Anna improved somewhat on the rehab ward, she attended complementary therapy sessions with a dedicated occupational therapist, she learnt to care for herself in her wheelchair, and she was eventually taken off constant observation by her psychiatrist. But behind her eyes, there was always that dead, depressive look of someone who for whatever reason, could not see enough joy in her own existence.
Anna committed suicide nearly one year after being admitted to our unit. That day, she placed a plastic bag over her head and lowered herself unseen from her wheelchair to the floor between two cars in the hospital car park.
I remember the day well.
And riding above my feelings of sadness and regret......I felt an overwhelming sense of relief.
I flippantly requested that he lightened up a little with today's posting, a thing he duly did, but once the suicidal fuse paper was lit so to speak, I couldn't quite get the subject out of my head this morning.
I think most of us, at one time or another in our lives have been affected by a suicide. Whether it be, god forbid, from the actions of a loved one, a relative, a friend or a colleague or indeed from in the actions of a complete stranger whose last final attempt at self determination affected your commute to work or daily routine.
All of us have been touched by its fallout
Several years ago I remember being responsible for the planning and implementation of nursing care of a patient who had paralysed herself in a suicide attempt.I will call her Anna.
The woman, was acutely depressed and even though she was paraplegic she remained desperate and resolute that she wanted to end it all.
We nursed her on a mattress on the floor to prevent her throwing herself face first out of bed. my ward nurses observed her constantly as even one moment left unsupervised gave her the opportunity to self harm, by stabbing herself with smashed crockery or even hanging herself with the tracking hoist that ran over her bed.
It was a desperate, sad and dreadful time for her and for the ward staff who had to endure the daily stresses of this kind of nursing care without the intervention of an impotent psychiatric service.
But as a team, we soldiered on.
After weeks of keeping Anna safe under the " protection" of the mental Heath act, the psychiatric services started to respond more favourably in providing trained psychiatric nursing input and our own therapists and nurses started to make tiny chinks of rehabilitation improvement with a woman, who despite being a successful professional in her previous life, still held on to the desperate desire to end her own life.
Our ward nursed Anna for several months, after which she was transferred to the unit's rehabilitation ward. We all hoped that we had kept her alive, long enough for psychiatric interventions to gain some sort of foothold, and that the depression would eventually lift, but the truth of the matter was that deep down we were just glad that she was now someone else's problem to deal with. Caring for someone who wants to die, and who seriously wants to die,is dreadfully hard work.
The misery within the person seems to pervade anything and everything.....and is a recipe for trouble on a rehabilitation unit where everyone is swimming in very choppy waters.
On the surface Anna improved somewhat on the rehab ward, she attended complementary therapy sessions with a dedicated occupational therapist, she learnt to care for herself in her wheelchair, and she was eventually taken off constant observation by her psychiatrist. But behind her eyes, there was always that dead, depressive look of someone who for whatever reason, could not see enough joy in her own existence.
Anna committed suicide nearly one year after being admitted to our unit. That day, she placed a plastic bag over her head and lowered herself unseen from her wheelchair to the floor between two cars in the hospital car park.
I remember the day well.
And riding above my feelings of sadness and regret......I felt an overwhelming sense of relief.
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