A Policeman's Lot

A still from the Welsh Running man video

Today a score or so North Walian police officers downloaded their version of the Running Man Challenge to youtube.
It's not the most entertaining " police" video of this latest Internet craze but you can't blame them for trying.
It's nice seeing the thin blue line having a bit of fun for a change.
Historically, nurses and police get very well.
I think we share the same gallows humour as well as experience of seeing people often at their very worst.
Police officers have come to the aid of nurses in trouble many a time.
and many a time nurses have treated police personnel for their trouble.
I have always been a fan of the  boys ( and girls ) in blue.

I was chatting to two police officers who live in the village the other day. We were all listening to a domestic argument in a nearby house. " Domestics" , I was told with some authority, were often the most thankless and at times dangerous disturbances to be called out to.

I can't think of anyone else but police that have to deal with such miserable aspects of a job.

Years ago, I was once part of a psychiatric nurse team who had to retrieve a sectioned patient from their house in the community. We were accompanied by four extremely large Yorkshire policemen and my job in the whole event was to look after the syringes of intramuscular chlorpromazine . Sedation which I had to inject into the patient's buttocks if all went tits up.

Then I was only 23 and rather slight in stature. I also wore a very unflattering  thick woolly jumper which made me look like a presenter of a  1980s childrens' tv show. I couldn't have been less of an asset to such a venture if I'd put on a gingham dress and platted my hair, but there we go.

Nowadays the police have all sort of equipment and protocols to follow in such situations as I am sure psychiatric nurses now do. Then , I chose the biggest and most manly policeman and stood behind him.
" Are you the lad with the drugs? " the policeman asked me when I peeped around his biceps to see what was going on
" yes " I gulped weakly
" Keep behind me, don't get in the way and if you need to jab the guy, I'll call you" he instructed carefully. He sounded like Freddie Truman
I nodded, white faced and shivered helplessly when he added
" and prick me with that needle and I'll fucking batter you!" 

First Job Of The Day

My first job of the day starts around 5.30 am. 

It's a dreadful time and a mundane job, but it has it's rewards.

I get up and in my pyjama bottoms and t shirt, I silently collect the dogs from every corner of the cottage. 

I am morose at this time.

After morning ablutions , it is time to " back to bed time"  so with the Prof , dressed in his finery and sipping his tea like Baron Von Trapp we all gallop up to bed for a communal lie in .

William has to be helped to get up on the bed now he is ten and so does George but that's only because he has three inch legs, but Winnie, Albert and Mary all scramble up as best as they are able in order to bags the best positions on and under the duvet.

I lie in the Prof's vacated position, William in mine. Winnie and Albert spoon together. George is happy anywhere as long as he can waggle his fat feet and Mary lies on my left shoulder .

We are all practically asleep when the Prof arrives back to say goodbye. 

The last thing I usually hear before I fall back to sleep ( apart from Winnie's sleep apnoea snoring) is The Prof mock moaning that Mary Loves me too much.

This is usually why

I'll blog properly later...The Prof is away in London all week....and I am alone again with just the animals for company

My Best Side

The sedation didn't touch the sides

So I merrily watched the insides of my colon with a chatty, sweet natured 

Filipino nurse who I told , I was a farmer.

I didn't want to say that I was a nurse, 

Playing dumb can be sometimes very useful.

Thank you for all your best wishes and colon stories...I didn't know just how many

of you out there in blogland has had a camera up their arse! 

By the end of the investigation, after bits and pieces were  biopsied

the Filipino nurse asked me what I though of the video

" I'm cleaner on the inside than I usually am on the outside" 

I told her 

Thar She Blows

It's 07.45 and I have just about finished another litre of liquid laxative.
We don't have the luxury of two bathrooms, and so The Prof has had strict instructions to "leave the door unlocked" 
Strangely I don't feel hungry, even though I last ate something early yesterday afternoon.
Perhaps there's something in this fasting thing?
I've  just fed and watered the field animals , stopping only briefly by the gate to let out a sudden and worrying fart ( no follow through thank the lord) and now,  I am safely ensconced on the loo merrily passing floods of effluent with all of the talent of a North Sea sewage pipe outside Hull.

I was going to write a post on how the bastard magpies have nicked all yesterday's eggs from the collection bowl I left on the garden wall, smashing them them all over the lane.
But I can't be arsed

" More Moviprep Darling?"

" We better get some more loo roll" 
So said The Prof in between making loud raspberry noises from the kitchen.
Never let it be said that his humour is nothing but sophisticated.
Presently I am resting my right knee on the couch. True the rest of my body is resting with it, but my knee in particular is in need of some rest and relaxation as yesterday  it has suddenly decided to swell dramatically, however, this affliction has been, somewhat over shadowed by the imminent prospect of me drinking two litres of what can only be described as, liquid nitroglycerine, prior to tomorrow's fairly innocuous sounding medical procedure - the dreaded colonoscopy. 
The liquid nitroglycerine is called moviprep and later today and tomorrow morning, because of it, I shall be spending long long periods on the loo with my ipad.
Now you can understand, just a little more, just why raspberry fart noises are emanating from the kitchen.

Apparently you can either have a "light sedation" prior to the camera's insertion  or just plump for the "gas and air" option. Gas'n air is, I am told , the choice of people that are either DEAD HARD or ones that can't rely on a responsible adult to pick them up. I am choosing the sedation route.
If it was up to me, I would prefer being comatose from this morning until tomorrow night, but unfortunately that is not a viable option, which is a pity. I wouldn't have to listen to many more toilet paper jokes if I was unconcious!
Having said this, I am trying to see the whole thing from a more humorous stance, and given the age range of Going Gently's  readership I am sure there is a score of happy bloggers who have bitten great chunks out their pillows when they have undergone similar invasive procedures and would like to share the whole process with me.

So think of me.....think of me fondly a little later today.
I shall be resting my knee as the bottom literally falls out of my world.
Hey ho

Making My Own Fun

The Prof went for a drink after work last night so I went to the supermarket to complete the weekly shop.
Strange as it may sound, I think I got the better deal, for the afternoon visit was the ideal venue for my favourite game of,
" Supermarket Relay"
Now the rules of Supermarket Relay are as follows.

1. First take a leisurely wander up and down the aisles of your favourite supermarket scanning the shoppers as well as the produce.
2. Make a note of anyone you recognise.
3. Pick your victim .
4. Follow them at a distance then
5. Strike 

Now, to explain this game a little better, I need to give you yesterday's examples

1. I did indeed wander up and down the aisles
2. In the end I recognised five shoppers! ( a particular record!) - Three ladies from Samaritans who were shopping post lunch date. " Betty"( Wife of Gentleman Farmer Ralph; they live down our lane) and Gaynor, Trelawnyd Church's Mad organist. 
3. Only three of the five were pushing a shopping trolley. And so " Betty", a lady called Norma (who incidentally is Winnie's regular babysitter) and Gaynor were shortlisted! Now......" Betty" , being a fit farmer's wife, proved to be far too agile to follow effectively so I centred my game on Norma and Gaynor.
4. Now  the object of supermarket Relay is to sneak useless items of produce into your victims' shopping trolley without being caught by them or by any eagle eyed fellow shopper who may open their gob to warn them. In my experience,,it takes great skill to get away with anything more than two items, such is the peripheral visual skills of your average shopper, but I thought I'd give it a go. 

In two minutes I was on a roll. Deftly I dropped an economy tin of spaghetti hoops in the Mad Organist's trolley while she was busy with the baking section before swooping upon an unsuspecting Norma  who was approaching the checkout , with a triple bombing of a family sized box of paper  hankies, trifle sponge fingers and a packet of pan scrubs. 

Neither woman was aware of my presence   ! 

Great fun...you should try it!

Snapshots

Polling day and a sunny one meant that Trelawnyd was extra busy yesterday what with the elderly, and non working of the village popping up to the village hall in drips and drabs in order to vote.
Old Trevor came striding down London Road on his new knee like Fatima Whitbread ....at 94 he can now out easily outpace me in a short burst of power walking and as I stopped to say hello he pushed a ten pound note into my hand and trilled. " Buy a scotch egg with it" , he cheerfully waved away my refusal....I had dug over his flowerbeds last week!
I bumped into a widow woman, I had not seen for at least a year and she asked me about the dogs and the chickens and the geese and the sheep before she mentioned The Prof
" How's your friend?" She asked, not quite sure just how to refer to my better half and I was reminded of the Red Faced Welsh Farmer who always awkwardly referred to Chris as " my friend" much to my amusement
" He's now my husband" I told her playfully, holding up my wedding finger
" ohhhhh fancy " the woman exclaimed ever so slightly flustered
" I'm all for it" she said in way of a reply!
I enjoy throwing a little grenade into the mix occasionally and as  she walked away she told me that she had no idea who she had voted for ...." It's just important to vote" she  confided breathlessly.
The head of the conservation society was single handedly weeding the community flower beds when I passed and I was reminded that the Flower Show needed to give him a donation towards the summer planting. We will , I am sure,  have requests for support from the Village Friendship Group .( to pay for one of their coach trips) and by the Church to buy some new linens . I reminded myself to put up a notice on the village notice board asking for more nominations for financial support. The Flower Show's main remit is to support village initiatives.
I said hello to voters Stan and Kit ( Kit was the designer and maker of The Prof's famous " slippers of sex" ) and Trendy Carol floated past sporting a very flattering retro blouse with matching shoes....." I'm on my way to an outside tai chi session" she told me in way of explanation.

And all this before lunch.

" Style " Over Substance

The Memorial Hall is presently open for voters to have their say in the " Super Thursday" elections. Mary and I will pop along shortly to have." Our " say.
I think it's vital that we all put our X in the box.
With some horror and a huge amount of disbelief , I have witnessed the success of Donald Trump in the race for the White House. He is a shouting buffoon of a man, a bully, in that simple big bellied, hand on hips, small Town way and to us Brits, who only have the benefit of six minute news outlines read out by Fiona Bruce in a nice frock, he looks overblown and crass.
Of course, I am not privy to the nuances of the Presidential Race. I am not reallly arsed researching it either; but to me a statesman has to be statesmanlike. Plain and simple.
Boris Johnson take note.
Buffoons and shouters need not apply.

Where is Henry Fonda when you need him.!


Anyhow , today looks like another lovely day. Winnie is still not 100% despite her adrenaline filled walk to the kitchen last night, and is lying weakly on the couch like Blanche DuBois. The geese are all crammed into a freshly filled lurid purple paddling pool and are noisily washing each other's necks   and Mary is nowhere to be seen.
I know exactly were she is .
Every morning she can be found in the back yard, propped up against the garden shed , sunbathing.