Merry Christmas

Apologies, as ever my friends, for I have been neglecting you of late. 3 months and 6 days since I last posted anything, and that was an insubstantial and somewhat whiny post as it was. I have no excuse, no reason to give, other than I have had nothing to say.

Christmas has come and gone, the number of roast dinners I have eaten this festive period would almost reach double figures; perhaps the one – only – benefit of have two families to please at Christmas time. I’m afriad I was a bit naughty on Christmas day, luckily Santa had already delivered his pressies so I got away with it. I had spoken to Dad on Christmas Eve you see, and we had made some vague plan that I would come round in the afternoon. I had expected him to call early to set a firm time, honestly I did, but when when he didn’t; well I made no effort to call him. In fact I let the whole day go by without troubling to contact him. I know, I was bad, but I didn’t really care to be honest. The only people I wanted to see on Christmas day was my mum, my dog, and Tom. We did have a neighbour round for lunch, her husband died last winter and, what with the snow, it wouldn’t really have been sensible for her to try and travel to see her family.

Ah yes, the snow, I must tell you about that. Quite some fun we’ve been having here in the north east. (For a second there I thought I shouldn’t tell you that, you would know where I am! Then I realized the days when I was anonymous are long gone.) Yes the snow. I didn’t have any trouble with it myself, but it’s been quite a pain for some. Actually I quite enjoyed it. Even driving in these treacherous conditions is a challenge I relish. Sometimes, if I’m feeling really adventurous, I’ll even try and get a bit of a slid going on the corners. Then I go and manage it, scare myself shitless and vow never to do it again!

Then we had new year. Following a tradition set down many years ago, Katharine had a party at her house. A civil affair you understand, parents attend as well as us young ‘hooligans’, but alcohol is consumed, merriment is made and a right good time is had by all. You must excuse me for going all woolly there, just I quite enjoy seeing everyone again. Then of course the parents go home and the hooligans (that’s us) set ourselves up for a night on the living room floor. A couple of people left for another friends house, every year she has a new year party too, I don’t think it would be unfair to call it a more raucous event. Every year it clashes with Katharine’s and every year some compromise is come to. Anyway, the loss of two of our number left 7 standing (actually we were lying down in our sleeping bags by this point I suppose). Eventually, it was sometime around 3 or 4am, it was just me and Amy left awake. She was having terrible trouble with the boy sleeping next to her, he was “a roller” you see, and kept rolling on top of her sleeping bag and giving her less and less space to sleep in. I could move over any because I had another girl lying the other side of me. I was really only awake at this point because I thought it rude to fall asleep and leave Amy alone with Mr Space Invader. No, far more polite to stay awake and laugh at her. Poor girl, probably just wanted me to shut up by the time we reached the early hours. Luckily I did in the end, although not before sleep deprivation almost made me do something quite stupid, something that I would have greatly regretted in the morning. I can say no more dear reader, for I fear both and Amy and possibly my mother read this blog, and I would rather neither knew to what I allude

Hope you have a prosperous new year, sincerely hope we speak again soon. x

When all the Christmas cheer is dead and gone.

Compare, if you will, Christmas day:

With today:

What happened there was my mum, a pair of secateurs and ten minutes. Kept us warm though.

Amnesic Homicide

Wednesday was supposed to be a nice, gentle, midday finish sort of day. Of course in reality it became a dashing around, constantly looking at the watch day. The morning was simple enough with two microbiology lectures form 9 until 11. Then an introduction to clinical practice lecture from a certain clinical skills director, who I did not think that much of before, but is starting to grow on me. It was the usual stuff about dress code and behaviour in clinical settings.

After the lecture I sat in the cafe for a few minutes with Julie and Kevin, but had to leave for badminton pretty quickly. I did not think through my route properly because I found myself wanting to go the wrong way up a street that had been made one way for gas mains replacement works. I thought I had navigated a route to the right side of the roadworks, but ended up just where I didn’t want to be. In the end I got off my bake and wheeled it along the pavement against the flow of traffic. Well, I wheeled it until I was passed all the pedestrians, then I got back on and cycled along the pavement, but don’t tell anyone, I normally look disapprovingly at people who cycle on the pavement.

John was waiting at the Sports Village when I go there, he was meeting another friend. We went in together and down to the sports hall. Incredibly, there were even more people there than on Monday, so in the hour and a half I got two games. Still, I probably wasn’t up to the thrashing I got on Monday, so it was all for the best. The addition of more people also mean that the proportion of people who I was better than increased, although my ability to put the shuttle where I wanted it actually got worse. Still, I’m there to get better.

I was late leaving the Sports Village because we over ran a bit and I had to get changed again as well. I cycled a full speed (read: not very fast) back up the hill to home to switch mode of transport. It would have slightly defeated the purpose of meeting Steph at Argos to help her move a new desk if I arrived on my bike. More suitable motorized transport secured, I drove the short distance there and arrived only a couple of minutes late. We got the desk in the car no problem, although we did have a funny moment when Steph automatically went to the offside of the car, which would of course be the passenger side in Canada, and tried to get in. I let her open the door and move to step in before pointing out that, unless she had suddenly obtained a British driving license, I would prefer it if I drove the car. Her flat is well placed for both uni and town, which I’m quite jealous of. I mean, I’m nice and close to the hospital, but the trek back from town is on the long side.

I went straight from there to Morrisons. I needed only two things there: chicken and dental floss. I used a self service checkout to avoid anyone else seeing my odd combination of items. Reminds me of when I was bag packing in Sainsbury’s in town when we were fund raising for the Malawi trip. A young couple came through with only two item then also, although I think they were in for a better night than I; a variety pack of Durex condoms and a bottle of champagne. I smiled politely and asked if they’d like a bag for that. They put a decent handful of change in my bucket too.

I had to go in to the bank as well, to deal with my little money problem. Namely the fact that our letting agent had taken the rent out of my account on the 29^th of the month, and my grant would come though until the 1^st, two day later. Unsurprisingly seeing as how I’m a student, I did not have £280 left in my account by this time. Nor do I have an overdraft facility on my account, so the standing order went unpaid. Not a happy result for anyone, other than the bank, who get to charge me £38.00 for the privilege of saying “no, I’m sorry, he doesn’t have that much money to give you.” I carefully considered who I was going to shout at over this farcical event, but in the end everyone was too nice. It genuinely was an unfortunate combination of events that was nobody’s fault and I, unlike my father, do not shout at people for accidents that they had no control over. I guess all’s well that ends well, and I’ve got an overdraft set up now so that I’m covered for those few day between the rent going out and my money coming in, since the same thing is going to happen every month. Incidentally, it was scarily easy to get an overdraft, all it took was 5 minutes and my student card; suddenly I can borrow £1000. I spoke to Aberdein Considine and got my rent paid by card as soon as the money came though too.

I dashed home and microwaved the last of my bolognaise while getting ready to go out. This meant I wasn’t keeping a close eye one it so it got very hot and I burnt my mouth as I ate, I was running late again by this point. At least I didn’t think about what I had to wear, I’ve been planning it for a least 2 weeks. Basically it was every white piece of clothing I own; white shirt, white trousers, white lab coat, white sock, white shoes. (picture to follow… maybe). I was playing the character of Den Chures, an orthodontist, at Natalie’s murder mystery 21^st birthday party. We had a really good time, despite sending me to collect the pizza in full costume. I won’t bore you with the details, but the long and short of it is that I was the murder, but managed to miss the fact this was printed in big bold letters in my handbook, so I didn’t realize until everyone else found out. This made being crafty difficult, although as anyone who’s read Iain Banks’ The Crow Road will know, the perfect murder is the one you don’t remember committing. Everyone had put some effort into their costume, which is always nice to see. Some people looked particularly good in their’s. I was feeling pretty tired by the end of the evening, even though it wasn’t that late by the time I had dropped Mark off and got home myself.

Exams: Epilogue

After the exam on Wednesday we went to Wetherspoons for lunch, it was good and mighty cheap, always a consideration when one is a student. One waiter was extremely rude to us, I happened to be served by the duty manager at the bar, so I mentioned it to him. He wasn’t particularly helpful either, I wasn’t sure which I felt more strongly: glad that he didn’t adopt a ‘customer is always right’ approach and instead stood by his staff; or annoyed that he didn’t try and soothe me with a ‘customer is always right’ approach. In the end, the same waiter was the one serving us our food and he apologized, he was carrying really hot plates apparently and the place was absolutely packed (with first year medics just finished their exams obviously, who else is going to be in there at 1.30 on a Wednesday afternoon?). I don’t doubt he probably spit on my chicken burger too, just for good measure!

After lunch I went back to halls to relax for a bit, then it was on with a shirt and up to dinner early, we wanted to get good seats in the pub for the UEFA final. It was absolutely roasting in the Wateringhole, it’s underground so there’s no windows. We couldn’t really get to the bar either because there was a solid wall of Man U fans in our way. The game wasn’t really exciting, we got our adrenaline instead from the twat of a Man U supporter who threatened Mark, the Barca’ fan in our group. He may have run away with Will about 15 minutes before the end! Those of us who stayed went up and joined them in the flat for a tequila shot or two after the game (it was my first experience of tequila, I’m not sure I’ll be having it again any time soon.) Then on to the Liquid night-club in Aberdeen, via our local pub of course. Liquid was pack full of medics as well, everywhere you turned was a familiar face, which was nice.

I didn’t have the balls to make my move, which may have been just as well cause it turns out she might have a boyfriend already. I’ve exhausted every online stalking method I have to find out, still none the wiser. I may just have to bite the bullet and ask; scary! In the end I gave up trying to work up the courage and escaped home with Natalie and Cat instead; obviously I didn’t have enough to drink. Someone, on the other hand, had plenty to drink and ended up forehead-to-forehead with some random girl on the dance floor moving round in cute little circles. Oh yeah, then they played tongue hockey. We got photographic evidence, just in case he didn’t remember exactly what she looked like in the morning.

Then a lie-in on Thursday morning; bliss, pure bliss.

It’s a Beautiful Day

I feel icky.

I’ve slept on the floor these past three nights (read: I’ve tried to sleep on the floor).
I smell.
My iPhone has no charge left.
I have no clean underwear; literally nothing.
My room is the messiest I’ve seen it since move in weekend.
I have no food.
I have a tutorial tomorrow.

So why is it a beautiful day?

Because the coffee is flowing as I type.
I’m about to have a shower.
My iPhone is charging.
All my clothes are in the wash.
I don’t care that my room is a mess, I don’t need to do anything in it.
I’m going shopping later.
I’m actually prepared for my tutorial for once.

So that cancels out all the bad things, so now it’s an average day, why is it beautiful?

The sun is shining, the wind is lifting the tops of the trees.
I’m home at last.
I have no more exams.
I have a week off.
I have a free weekend to spend with Gemma (who is still talking to me).
Next term’s timetable looks, in a word, amazing.

Life is good.

Not perfect, bloody far from perfect, but right now it’s the closest it’s been in a while.

And that feels good.

Merry Christmas

Here’s wishing everyone a very Merry Christmas.

At this time of festive cheer and Christmas spirit, I ask everyone to spare a moment’s thought. As you tuck in to your sumptuous lunches and dinners, as you tear the paper of your mountain of presents, as you visit friends and family, I ask not that you feel guilty for having these things, but that you think about the people less fortunate than ourselves.

To the children who will spend this Christmas in care;
to the soldiers who will spend this Christmas in a foreign country, far from their families;
to the 80,000 odd who will spend this Christmas in prison;
to the families living hand to mouth, day by day:

I wish you luck and good fortune, and hope the rays of Christmas spirit reach you however far away or desperate you may seem to be, you are always in someone’s heart.

And finally, if I might be allowed a little indulgence of my own, it is my blog after all, I ask you all to spare a thought for every police office, paramedic, emergency medical technician, fire fighter, officer of Her Majesty’s Coast Guard, A&E doc and nurse and every other emergency worker who’s on shift tonight and over the next few days. They work tirelessly all year round and rarely get any thanks. So to all of you, Merry Christmas, and thank you.

1 day to go

or more accurately, 1hr 13mins.

I’m sitting downstairs in front of the fire. The TV is off; the room smells of the Christmas tree twinkling in the corner; the dog is lying on my feet; iTunes is playing soothing Christmas music. I guess one could say “all is quiet”, and indeed it is; Mum has just left for church.

You will notice that I am still here, however. It was not a decision I took lightly, which I know might surprise some of you. But when you think about it, who wants to be alone when the hour of midnight ticks over? No one, and certainly not by choice, surely?

I have been to church to sing every Christmas Eve I can remember. And that’s just it, that’s why we’ve always gone, to sing, not to worship. But we’re singing praises to God, which is a little contradictory. I can remember very clearly that I was sitting in the hairdressers in Alford last year, before school broke up for Christmas. I got the appointment time wrong, I was fifteen minutes early, so I had plenty of time to wait. Radio 2 was on in the back ground, Richard Dawkins was debating with the presenter about why it was okay for ‘non-believers’ to go to church on the 24th and sing carols. Can’t remember anything of what he said now, but I remember the moment very clearly. So should I have gone? Not becuase Dawkins said it was alright, I respect him but I don’t treat his word as (forgive me) gospel.

One of the main points, for me anyway, about being an atheist (agnostic if you want to get technical) is that I can do what I want to. Within reason of course, but there isn’t anyone or anything telling me how to live my life. And ironically I have to keep reminding myself of that when I make decisions about this sort of thing: do I go to church on Christmas Eve as I always have; do I take Gemma up on her offer of going to church one Sunday; just how many CU events can I attend. I need to remember that I can do these things if I want to, my atheism isn’t stopping me, I’m just going for different reasons. I’m going because I want to be with my mum when Christmas arrives; I’m going because I think it’s important that I understand Gemma’s belief; I can go to as many CU events as I bloody well want to!

It isn’t easy to have this belief system, which annoys me, because it should be the easiest thing in the world not to believe anything at all. I have to constantly be on my guard against turning to what has been branded evangelical atheism, or as George Orwell put it:

“He was an embittered atheist, the sort of atheist who does not so much disbelieve in God as personally dislike Him.”

I can do what ever the hell I want, and if that means going to church then I will, just because I can. So why then did I decide to stay here and not go with mum this evening. Well I wish I’d started writing this post about half an hour earlier, because it’s just struck me that I made the wrong choice.

Merry Christmas everyone.

6 days to go

Sorry it’s been a while since I’ve last posted. It’s not really been a week conducive to blogging. All week I’ve been feeling tired by the end of classes, still throwing off the end of this infection I guess, and I haven’t felt like sitting down to write. Indeed, what I have been doing is re-discovering my love of Star Wars: Battlefront II. I’ve had to start out from the beginning of course, because I’ve been playing on my Mac. Playing through Bootcamp does detract from the performance a bit so I’ve had to play with all the graphics settings turned right down. But I don’t mind, as long as I get to play without it crashing every 5 seconds. Although, sure as eggs are eggs, I completed a really difficult level which I haven’t managed to before, and was so excited to be on to a new level that I hadn’t even seen before I hit ‘Continue without saving’ instead of ‘Save’. There’s no was to go back and save afterwards, you have to do it between levels. “That’s ok,” I thought, I’m on a role, I’ll just play through this level and save afterwards.

*Crash*

“Aww {expletive deleted},” was rather what I thought. No warning, no freeze, just straight close and exit. One minute I’m blasting Republic Transports out the sky, the next I’m staring at the sky! (Windows still has its default background of rolling green field and blue sky.) It was an effort not to put something through the screen. Still, it’s all fine, I’ll just have to play the level again. I can transfer the save files to my laptop when I get home and play it with the graphics turned up a bit; eye candy. And the chances of crash should be mildly reduced as well.

I took Gemma to the airport this morning. I’m not very good with goodbyes, but we managed. I went and filled up with petrol and checked my tyre pressures like mum wanted afterwards. Petrol was cheap, which is good, and I’ve got a full tank to see me through the Christmas season; even if I am driving assorted tipsy relatives here, there and everywhere. And all my tyre pressures were fine, even that nearside front one that looks totally flat, it’s actually at pressure. Apart from anatomy I was quite at liberty to spend the whole day in my room gaming and watching Futurama and Star Trek; which is what I did! I meant to read for a bit, but I couldn;t summon the effort to be bothered. Maybe tomorrow, but then I have to pack tomorrow. And it would make sense to get mum’s Christmas present tomorrow as well since I won’t be back in town for anything else before the big day, it would be efficient to get it while I’m already here. Then in the evening I’m being taken to ‘Carols by Candlelight’ at the Music Hall. I shall read to you what it says in the guide:

“Herald Christmas in the most elegant way with this joyous concert of carold (sic) and seasonal classics presented with all the grace and charm of the 18th century in an evocative candle-lit setting. Highlights include Mozart’s Laudate Dominum sung by soprano Elizabeth Cragg, and the Christmas sequence from Handel’s Messiah. Join in with well-loved carols including Hark! the Herald Angels Sing and O Come, All Ye Faithful, all accompanied by the Mozart Festival Orchestra (in period costume) with conductor David Hill.”

Grand. The grammar in that first sentence is rather messy too. And do they mean ‘carold’? Is that some kind of archaic terminology that I’m not familiar with, or a typo. To be fair, I am familiar with a lot of archaic phrasings.

Look, I’m sure this Carols by Candlelight will be lovely, I’m just not it the mood for spending a couple of hours with the Witch and her mother, singing. No doubt it will be too cold outside and too hot inside. *sigh* I agreed I suppose, but only to get them off my back. I though an evening listening to someone else was better than risking refusing then being forced in to some other event that would require my active participation in prolonged conversation. Oh, and Christmas day is all worked out too, I’ll be eating at a decent hour (i.e. around 3pm) with Mum, Mike and Catty at Mike’s. So there’ll be good food and enjoyable company. I’m not having to tolerate another Christmas dinner at Dad’s because they’re eating at midday for some reason, I can’t remember why it was.

While I remember, there has been one advantage to me feeling tired, I’ve been going to bed between 9 and 10, then listening to Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince for an hour (or until 11, which ever come sooner). It’s been great fun getting back in to it, and it’s really making me want to read the Deathly Hallows again; or at least get them on CD and listen to them. That was going to go on to my Christmas list, until I realised I should get people to buy me more expensive things then I can buy that. It just makes more sense, I end up with the same stuff, but I spend less money; genius. I am, naturally, very curious to know what lies beneath the three layers of paper covering Gemma’s present to me, and what the notes say between each layer. Only a few more days to wait!

Nothing to see here

Go on, move along, nothing interesting going on here.

PS. Sorry I haven’t blogged in a few days, life has been rather hectic.

Congrats also to Obama on his landslide victory.

Oh, and it rained today, on my day off and everything, grrr.

Happy bloggin’ for a whole 31 days.

I nearly didn’t post today, but I thought it was important to mark the passing of the first month of my blog. This is also, quite coincidentally, the 50th post (well, if you exclude those three draft posts sitting stewing on a google server somewhere; the less said about them, the better). I have actually altered the post-details of this entry so it appears, to the casual observer, to have been posted exactly one month after my first ever post. This is a fact entirely lost on the casual observer, and is of course done to satisfy my slightly OCD-esque ways. Those readers who share my tendencies will appreciate this, those who do not will undoubtedly be curious to know what on earth I’m harping on about. (Incidentally, OCD, the mental illness, should not be confused with the phobia of compact disks, as in “Oh, CD!”) [Ed. How many of you took a second to work out the correlation between the "CD" and "Compact Disk", cause I did, and I wrote the thing!]

On to more serious issues, I did in fact write a post earlier today, for all my lamenting about letting the day pass by uncelebrated; it was entitled “Sitting on a bus”, with a sub-heading “but not so alone”. I’m sure you don’t need me to spell out for you any more where I was when I was writing that post. It was a bit rubbishy, to be honest, hence why I’m not publishing it. Which is a shame, because I started out with the most noble of intentions; to apologise for something none of you know I even did (which once again references to one of those other unpublished posts, and I assure you they shall remain unpublished). It is quite the thing to apologise, quite another to actually reveal what you have done wrong in the course of your apology. Still, I do have to make amends for something that at least one person knows about. For that act alone I should like to apologise more times than there have been seconds in the life of the universe, regardless of how you personally believe it came in to existence (yet another reference to that unpublished post, I bet you really want to know what it says now, don’t you?). Anyway, I thought that might be a little over dramatic, perhaps taking the matter out of context, so we’ll leave the matter how it is: in the past. I should dearly like the details to be hastily forgotten, but the message it carries to be resonate with me for years to come. Enough I say, sorry is sorry and lets move on.

To a mini-book review, on Bad Science by Ben Goldacre (quite how that is pronounced I don’t know, but it sounds impressive enough). Anyway, I have not finished it, so I shall leave a proper and well thought out review until I have and that can be dual-published here and on the Waterstone’s website. For now, I shall heartily recommend it, because it is extremely well written and very informative. It rubbishes many things I have a great personal dislike for: Homeopathy, the main-stream media, the pharmaceutical industry, “Dr” Gillian McKeith, bad statistics and generally the perception that scientist do things that are frightfully difficult to understand and have not a shred of relevance in everyday life. Technically “Dr Goldance”, he works full time for the NHS as a not-quite-consultant-level-doctor. He also writes a column for the Guardian and has a blog which is regularly updated. I urge you to go and read it, because it fights many of the evils besetting today’s society, although many of you may be getting a copy for Christmas from a certain eloquent blogger *cough*. Indeed, it is worth the read only so we may stare, mouth gaping in wonderment, at the skill of his legal team. Because I promise you, the things this man has managed to get to print, in one of the best selling books of the last few weeks, are truly staggering. (It is at the time of writing the best selling Science book on Amazon and the 37th best selling book overall.) It is a sad commentary on the state of the world we live in that I should be so amazed that such well balanced, researched, referenced and constructive criticism of these powerful people made it passed the censure brigade. A sorry state indeed.

And that, I think, brings this post to a close.

I should only like to add that tickets are now on sale for the Midmar Players’ annual December performance. This year it is “A Midmar Night’s Dream”, a (major) reworking of Shakespeare’s famous piece by our very talented in house staff. The performance dates are Wednesday 10th, Friday 12th and Saturday 13th, all at 7:30om in the Midmar hall. Tickets are up a little from last year at £7, but I assure you it is worth the money. (I’d like to point out we are a not for profit group, nobody gets paid for what they do, and they give up their free time because they love it. Although we do not directly sponsor any charity, we do support a number of local community groups. The cost of ticket sales covers the hire of the hall and purchase of limited equipment, we beg, borrow and steal all we can. Programs are available for a modest donation to cover printing cost, we charge absolutly nothing more than that for programmes.)