I am resolving to have a few new firsts from now on.
I was going to set the target at one a day but I'm not looking to kill myself so I think one per week would be perfectly adequate.
The minor hurdles that I have jumped today would barely qualify even by my own watered-down rules.
But for one thing.
I got my first bird at my bird table today.
He was a chubby fellow.
Or she.
But she munched on my windblown mealworms that had fallen to ground and then, as I willed and egged her on, she presented herself to my table.
I watched hoping that she would realise that the glass (uPVC) separating her from my vantage point would prevent me from being any threat.
I hoped she would nibble on my lardy cake.
She was a fat bird.
I suspect she had eaten at the table of many other men.
I can live with that. I understand enough about the harshness of life to let that pass. But after she had pecked at another of the under-hydrated mealworms, she was off and away. I thought perhaps to gather more friends to the bounty that she had unearthed. But no.
It is two hours later and, although in a weakened state, I would like to believe that this still may be true. But as I say, I understand the harshness of life.
I shall continue to lay out my bounty.
Maybe in time it will be her taste of paradise.
Or maybe he was a bloke after all.
Monday, 11 April 2011
Wednesday, 9 March 2011
Ash Wednesday
It's Lent again, greatest of all the bank holidays. It reminds us of course of the day Jesus invited his flock to smoke him a kipper and said he would be back for breakfast.
Once again, I have decided to give up .... muesli.
(Hoping to make it 20 years in a row).
Once again, I have decided to give up .... muesli.
(Hoping to make it 20 years in a row).
Saturday, 5 March 2011
Tuesday, 1 March 2011
Tuesday, 22 February 2011
The Unbearable Triteness of Being
Feelings of anguish.
Crushing central chest pain.
Nausea welling up.
That's the experience of watching BBC3's Junior Doctors.
It's physically painful to witness this tripe of a tragedy for Newcastle Medical School.
First up, we have a prime Charlie who drives a sports car (who does he think he is? A Nurse Practitioner?) and wears aviators. Yes it's the dim, rich boy who wants "to save the world".
Daddy's a doctor.
Mummy's a doctor.
Brother's a doctor.
Why did nobody spot this nit at interview?
He has "really big plans" for "what he want to get out of medicine".
"Get out" !!!!
Lord help us - watch out Harley Street and Channel 5.
The world needs saving all right. From half-wit city wide boys like that.
The unbearable vanity of the man.
He is the one who won't survive (There's always one). His mouth keeps reassuring us that he doesn't know if he is cut out to do this career.
Why not ask someone then? Me, for example.
He'll survive the programme - it plays to his sense of self importance but not the career.
I know, he's only a first year doctor. But he's not a man of 17, he's a man of 24. (Where's the missing year - was Daddy paying for a crammer?).
There's a few of the usual suspects around.
Doreen, a frosty senior nurse who could do with a good moisturiser postures rudely for the camera.
You can still tell the nice ones from the nasty ones.
Nothing changes. They looked exactly the same as in my day.
But our Charlie reassures himself to camera with a level of self-delusion not seen since David Copperfield took Claudia Schiffer for a spin around the block.
She "knows I am not a twat", he says.
She know's you are one more like.
Never fear though. Only a week and a half in and my God, he had some work to do!
Firstly, attending an arrest (which wasn't) with 12 other staff by my count plus a cameraman and production team!!
And secondly doing an unnecessary X-ray and writing up a dose of furosemide. That alone was enough to earn him a triumphant kick of his patent heels as he returned to the bar for a well-earned mojito and a go on his Playstation.
Hero to zero.
One guy, a registrar presumably, appeared in a tie, thank god. So at least he looked smart as he lamely employed the STOP technique to lord it over his new junior.
Future treats include Fat John who is in his second year. He clearly spent the first year eating pies. I'll give him 20 years.
Lucy was trying her hand at the "internal bottom examination". Thank God the camera crew were there.
And at the end of their first day, they are all at home playing pool, not as you might expect a third of the way through their first shift.
The progamme as ever was dominated by a scruffy bunch of female doctors but at least you could see that their nose rings had been removed. Some of the marks had almost begun to heal which was nice. Good old HDTV.
Our heroes kept extolling that The Buck stopped with them.
Really? I am sure they were taking lots of decisions. If the camera crew stick around they may even catch one on film. Most of this shower wouldn't recognise a buck if they ran into one in their Range Rover on the way home from an after-shift rave.
Torturous viewing that I am sure will appease the Snog Marry Avoid crowd.
Get me my beta blockers or a paper bag.
Whichever you can put your hands on first.
Crushing central chest pain.
Nausea welling up.
That's the experience of watching BBC3's Junior Doctors.
It's physically painful to witness this tripe of a tragedy for Newcastle Medical School.
First up, we have a prime Charlie who drives a sports car (who does he think he is? A Nurse Practitioner?) and wears aviators. Yes it's the dim, rich boy who wants "to save the world".
Daddy's a doctor.
Mummy's a doctor.
Brother's a doctor.
Why did nobody spot this nit at interview?
He has "really big plans" for "what he want to get out of medicine".
"Get out" !!!!
Lord help us - watch out Harley Street and Channel 5.
The world needs saving all right. From half-wit city wide boys like that.
The unbearable vanity of the man.
He is the one who won't survive (There's always one). His mouth keeps reassuring us that he doesn't know if he is cut out to do this career.
Why not ask someone then? Me, for example.
He'll survive the programme - it plays to his sense of self importance but not the career.
I know, he's only a first year doctor. But he's not a man of 17, he's a man of 24. (Where's the missing year - was Daddy paying for a crammer?).
There's a few of the usual suspects around.
Doreen, a frosty senior nurse who could do with a good moisturiser postures rudely for the camera.
You can still tell the nice ones from the nasty ones.
Nothing changes. They looked exactly the same as in my day.
But our Charlie reassures himself to camera with a level of self-delusion not seen since David Copperfield took Claudia Schiffer for a spin around the block.
She "knows I am not a twat", he says.
She know's you are one more like.
Never fear though. Only a week and a half in and my God, he had some work to do!
Firstly, attending an arrest (which wasn't) with 12 other staff by my count plus a cameraman and production team!!
And secondly doing an unnecessary X-ray and writing up a dose of furosemide. That alone was enough to earn him a triumphant kick of his patent heels as he returned to the bar for a well-earned mojito and a go on his Playstation.
Hero to zero.
One guy, a registrar presumably, appeared in a tie, thank god. So at least he looked smart as he lamely employed the STOP technique to lord it over his new junior.
Future treats include Fat John who is in his second year. He clearly spent the first year eating pies. I'll give him 20 years.
Lucy was trying her hand at the "internal bottom examination". Thank God the camera crew were there.
And at the end of their first day, they are all at home playing pool, not as you might expect a third of the way through their first shift.
The progamme as ever was dominated by a scruffy bunch of female doctors but at least you could see that their nose rings had been removed. Some of the marks had almost begun to heal which was nice. Good old HDTV.
Our heroes kept extolling that The Buck stopped with them.
Really? I am sure they were taking lots of decisions. If the camera crew stick around they may even catch one on film. Most of this shower wouldn't recognise a buck if they ran into one in their Range Rover on the way home from an after-shift rave.
Torturous viewing that I am sure will appease the Snog Marry Avoid crowd.
Get me my beta blockers or a paper bag.
Whichever you can put your hands on first.
Sunday, 20 February 2011
C'est La Vie
Okay you can turn your papers over.
Question One:
Who would you are rather employ:
A Someone who will give you 110%,
B Someone who says he will give you 100%,
or
C Someone who's offering up, say 90 to 95%.
You have five seconds.
Time's up.
Anyone who says he can give you 110% is a liar with poor mathematics and a knack for cliche.
Anyone who says he's giving 100% is saying he'll have never be able to give you any more than is currently giving and that he's always operating at maximum capacity. It displays is a lack of vision and understanding about the incredible possibilities of human potential.
And of course as an employer that's all you're after.
It's C by elimination.
C is someone who realises we rarely operate in that maximal zone, who realises there is always room for improvement. His analysis is tinged with an unusual insight and almost humorous honesty.
Of course he won't get the job.
But that's life.
Question One:
Who would you are rather employ:
A Someone who will give you 110%,
B Someone who says he will give you 100%,
or
C Someone who's offering up, say 90 to 95%.
You have five seconds.
Time's up.
Anyone who says he can give you 110% is a liar with poor mathematics and a knack for cliche.
Anyone who says he's giving 100% is saying he'll have never be able to give you any more than is currently giving and that he's always operating at maximum capacity. It displays is a lack of vision and understanding about the incredible possibilities of human potential.
And of course as an employer that's all you're after.
It's C by elimination.
C is someone who realises we rarely operate in that maximal zone, who realises there is always room for improvement. His analysis is tinged with an unusual insight and almost humorous honesty.
Of course he won't get the job.
But that's life.
Tuesday, 15 February 2011
Monday, 31 January 2011
Taking time
I rediscovered "We have all the time in the world" before I had discovered it.
I was pushed by a commercial.
I am not proud of it.
Music can be so context-dependent. John Barry says..said..it is the most personal form of expression there is. Implying that words are so prescriptive.
I faint to disagree. They just need their lack of form perfecting.
But it matters not.
His legacy is almost an entire genre of music and few can claim that.
I love his work.
A single composition conjures up a major cinematic experience and it also stands alone.
Maybe we could dream of moments that would do the same.
You only know who you are when you stand alone.
I found Louis Armstrong on my own. I can't remember exactly how.
I had two tape cassettes of great great great songs.
It was hellzapoppin. Amongst other things.
"What is that great sound that makes that noise in the Bond music, Mum?"
"That's a trumpet. Now go and do your piano practice".
I was pushed by a commercial.
I am not proud of it.
Music can be so context-dependent. John Barry says..said..it is the most personal form of expression there is. Implying that words are so prescriptive.
I faint to disagree. They just need their lack of form perfecting.
But it matters not.
His legacy is almost an entire genre of music and few can claim that.
I love his work.
A single composition conjures up a major cinematic experience and it also stands alone.
Maybe we could dream of moments that would do the same.
You only know who you are when you stand alone.
I found Louis Armstrong on my own. I can't remember exactly how.
I had two tape cassettes of great great great songs.
It was hellzapoppin. Amongst other things.
"What is that great sound that makes that noise in the Bond music, Mum?"
"That's a trumpet. Now go and do your piano practice".
Thursday, 27 January 2011
The Everlasting
We are losing the hope of the infinite.
Has your spirit ever crumpled when putting on a No-Iron shirt?
Do you remember when rulers were Unbreakable?
When watches were Waterproof?
Remember when Shatterproof rulers were downgraded to shatter resistant?
The Neverending Story had two sequels and three conclusions.
Even immortals die - ask any Highlander.
And there's many a claim of undying love buried beneath the frozen sod of a neglected churchyard.
Nothing but aphorisms lasts forever.
But claims that stand out as a challenge to the schoolboy are doomed to end of term revision.
They are expensive things for companies to back up.
Has your spirit ever crumpled when putting on a No-Iron shirt?
Do you remember when rulers were Unbreakable?
When watches were Waterproof?
Remember when Shatterproof rulers were downgraded to shatter resistant?
The Neverending Story had two sequels and three conclusions.
Even immortals die - ask any Highlander.
And there's many a claim of undying love buried beneath the frozen sod of a neglected churchyard.
Nothing but aphorisms lasts forever.
But claims that stand out as a challenge to the schoolboy are doomed to end of term revision.
They are expensive things for companies to back up.
Wednesday, 26 January 2011
2 hip?
It's hip to be square, they claimed.
And yet when I am being hip perhaps getting down with the kids, talking about motorbikes, discussing various counterpoints in the narrative of Neighbours or debating which was the greatest Captain of the Enterprise.
Or teaming up with my other student union acquaintances to get behind some cause or other, or well, lots of other things too numerous to mention that my chums and I get up to while you squares are drinking, womanising and doing macrame, I expect.
So since when is it square to be hip?
When I really give this some thought I reckon that Huey Lewis and the News weren't telling us the full truth.
And yet when I am being hip perhaps getting down with the kids, talking about motorbikes, discussing various counterpoints in the narrative of Neighbours or debating which was the greatest Captain of the Enterprise.
Or teaming up with my other student union acquaintances to get behind some cause or other, or well, lots of other things too numerous to mention that my chums and I get up to while you squares are drinking, womanising and doing macrame, I expect.
So since when is it square to be hip?
When I really give this some thought I reckon that Huey Lewis and the News weren't telling us the full truth.
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