I am thinking of going to my solicitor
The new Waitrose Christmas tv advert is a direct rip off from this blog entry
But I kinda like this version of the John Lewis bouncy boxer Christmas ad
Clever
For Janice
Janice has just emailed me from Somewhere in Berkshire
Apparantly she enjoyed my recent baby photo and asked in a rather " strange" way to see another photo of me " from my salad days!"
So Janice.....enjoy
Apparantly she enjoyed my recent baby photo and asked in a rather " strange" way to see another photo of me " from my salad days!"
So Janice.....enjoy
ILL
It's a lazy blog today.
I've got some sort of bug which hit home in the middle of the night and I feel like shit.
I'm sure it will pass by tomorrow but today, I feel as though I've been hit by a bus.
I'm coughing so hard that I'm farting like a machine gun!
When I am ill, I look like this......
But feel like this...
How do you cope with illness?
What sort of patient are you?
I've got some sort of bug which hit home in the middle of the night and I feel like shit.
I'm sure it will pass by tomorrow but today, I feel as though I've been hit by a bus.
I'm coughing so hard that I'm farting like a machine gun!
When I am ill, I look like this......
I vont to be left alone
How do you cope with illness?
What sort of patient are you?
The Walking Dead Episode 4
This is a slow burn of an episode.
With Negan ( Jeffrey Dean Morgan) wisecracking his way into Alexandria ( his jokes and easy manner already getting on everyone's tits including the audience's) we see "team Rick"reacting to the threat in a somewhat interesting and varied way.
As Carl, Michonne and Rosita bubble away with quiet fury. Father Gabriel cleverly covers Maggie's tracks by showing Negan a fake grave ( Negan has already proved himself a talented psychoanalyst by understanding the danger of women scorned)
Rick ( threatened by Daryl and Oliva's deaths) gives away all of Alexandria's weapons and faces the backlash for it even though it is obvious it will buy him and the others some time ....time for perhaps Kingdom and Hilltop to join forces.
I could do without Judith's step dad Andrew Lincoln's goggle eyed overacting but as a stand alone episode this one was an interesting study in psychological warfare, especially as it's the Walking Dead's women who are now stepping up to the plate.
When The Chips Are Down
Over the weekend I watched a normal family unit cope with a devastating series of events. Whilst some members "crumbled" under the weight of the situation, others remained stoic, each person dealing with the news in their own way.
You see this a lot on ICU
I have learnt that you can never ever second guess just how people will react in these situations, because often enough, non have ever been through something similar before.
The other morning I received an email from the wife of an old patient of mine.
I had been instrumental in helping the woman becoming pregnant, ( something I am sure that you would never have believed ) but you have to remember that the patient involved had a severe traumatic paralysis and that I was the nurse working with the couple in the fertility clinic at that time.
The patient, who I will call James, was only in his twenties at the time. He had dived into the sea on his first holiday in Spain and had struck his head on the sand at a shallow spot.
This had resulted in a fracture of his fifth vertebrae,and an immediate and devastating paralysis from his chest down.
He never recovered.
I remembered James well. I remember him being nursed flat for twelve weeks with his neck in traction. I remembered his wife, a pragmatic Nolfolk countrywoman who could only visit on weekends and I remember him never complaining about his lot, even when faced with the overwhelming sadness of loosing every physical thing you ever held dear.
James just dealt with the brickbats.
His mantra was "let's get on with it!"
The generic email from James' wife remained typically simple.
It said " we are sorry to report that following a short illness James died peacefully at home surrounded by his friends and family and with his loyal dog Judy at his side.
He was a much loved son, brother, cousin, uncle, husband and father and was an inspiration to everyone who met him"
I last saw James at that fertility clinic appointment twenty years ago. He remained resolutely upbeat about his life with disability, that is until I was involved with the intimate and very private moment that fertility patients have to endure, only then did he break down and cried silent tears in the worried hope that all would be well.
I remember wiping away those tears for him, for he was not even able to do that for himself, and he cried long and hard for much of the consultation as the fooodgates opened after years and years of coping without complaint.
James' son was born healthy and happy the following spring. I believe he is now a student at The University of Suffolk.
You see this a lot on ICU
I have learnt that you can never ever second guess just how people will react in these situations, because often enough, non have ever been through something similar before.
The other morning I received an email from the wife of an old patient of mine.
I had been instrumental in helping the woman becoming pregnant, ( something I am sure that you would never have believed ) but you have to remember that the patient involved had a severe traumatic paralysis and that I was the nurse working with the couple in the fertility clinic at that time.
The patient, who I will call James, was only in his twenties at the time. He had dived into the sea on his first holiday in Spain and had struck his head on the sand at a shallow spot.
This had resulted in a fracture of his fifth vertebrae,and an immediate and devastating paralysis from his chest down.
He never recovered.
I remembered James well. I remember him being nursed flat for twelve weeks with his neck in traction. I remembered his wife, a pragmatic Nolfolk countrywoman who could only visit on weekends and I remember him never complaining about his lot, even when faced with the overwhelming sadness of loosing every physical thing you ever held dear.
James just dealt with the brickbats.
His mantra was "let's get on with it!"
The generic email from James' wife remained typically simple.
It said " we are sorry to report that following a short illness James died peacefully at home surrounded by his friends and family and with his loyal dog Judy at his side.
He was a much loved son, brother, cousin, uncle, husband and father and was an inspiration to everyone who met him"
I last saw James at that fertility clinic appointment twenty years ago. He remained resolutely upbeat about his life with disability, that is until I was involved with the intimate and very private moment that fertility patients have to endure, only then did he break down and cried silent tears in the worried hope that all would be well.
I remember wiping away those tears for him, for he was not even able to do that for himself, and he cried long and hard for much of the consultation as the fooodgates opened after years and years of coping without complaint.
James' son was born healthy and happy the following spring. I believe he is now a student at The University of Suffolk.
Good Fortune
I got home this morning exhausted and rather run down after a busy night at work only to be faced with a somewhat fraught Prof and a pile washing.
Some animal, yet unnamed had run amok on our new bed spread so I was banished to the spare bed room in order to catch with some sleep, which proved to a rather futile job as the washing machine lies directly beneath the bedroom in the west wing!
I got up, stupidly insulted the Prof's rather tasteless parsnip soup, then, while he was sulking, took the dogs out for a walk, dragging my feet as I did so.
On a more positive note, as we crossed a deserted village green,
Winnie stopped to sniff at something lying in the grass!
A lone 20£ !
The Prof told me I should donate the money to a charity of his choice
" fuck off ," I told him
" I'm spending it on beer and Crisps!"
Some animal, yet unnamed had run amok on our new bed spread so I was banished to the spare bed room in order to catch with some sleep, which proved to a rather futile job as the washing machine lies directly beneath the bedroom in the west wing!
I got up, stupidly insulted the Prof's rather tasteless parsnip soup, then, while he was sulking, took the dogs out for a walk, dragging my feet as I did so.
On a more positive note, as we crossed a deserted village green,
Winnie stopped to sniff at something lying in the grass!
A lone 20£ !
The Prof told me I should donate the money to a charity of his choice
" fuck off ," I told him
" I'm spending it on beer and Crisps!"
Robert Vaughn
Vaughn 2nd from left in 12 Angry Men
I'm in the bath.
I've left The Prof in bed, he's muttering about the new Vice President elect, who is a known homophobe..I've had enough of bad feeling and elections and feel a tiny bit more optamistic after watching a dignified and entertaining Henry Kissinger being interviewed last night about the Trump debacle
His " this too will pass" view poured some oil on some waters for me.
Two years ago I took my best friend Nu to see Twelve Angry Men . It had a short but successful stink in the West End, and featured that old suave sixties star Robert Vaughn in the fairly small role of Juror 9 ( The old man ) Vaughan was obviously enjoying himself and ar the curtain call, I noticed with some amusement just how he larked around with the younger and more serious actors. He was 81 then,
Hollywood didn't really know what to do with Vaughn which was a shame, but he was a successful actor for over 50 years appearing in The Magnificent Seven , The Towering Inferno, Bullet and of course The Man From Uncle as well as literally hundreds of tv shows.
He had a twinkle in his eye, which was very evident to me in Angry Men .
It's sad that he has gone.
A Blogging Phenomenon
It's an interesting phenomenon to be sure.
I've noticed certain bloggers seem to delight in sucking the life blood from any blog entry by consistently arguing the opposite point of view. You can almost set your watch by them .
Is it a case of familiarity breeding contempt ? Genuine irritation? or a sense of entitlement
I am not quite sure
Perhaps someone out there can enlighten me.
Part of the problem , I think, comes from the written word itself. Like texts and particularly emails , it is easy to misconstrue the meanings and emotions behind a comment, especially one tapped out quickly three thousand miles away.
The answer, like most answers lie within a mash up of all of the points above.
I'll leave you with a morning photo of me and Mary..........
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