Wednesday 7 October 2009

Umbrella rules for men - as seen by a woman

Types of umbrella
  • Really, you don't want to have to use an umbrella. To do so is unmanly. A hood is preferable.
  • If you simply must use an umbrella, the first choice is a golf umbrella, the bigger the better. The golf umbrella should be black, but it is just about acceptable to have colour, only if the colour is the logo of a large bank, or law firm.
  • If you have to use the last resort of a "normal" sized umbrella, it MUST be black. Anything else is an assault on your manliness.

Umbrella etiquette

  • Politeness is only for women using umbrellas.
  • You do not need to consider the fact that the ends of your umbrella spokes are deadly weapons. You have a golf umbrella (you'd better do, or you're letting the side down, son), therefore you are bigger and better than anyone else, and they'll get out of your way. Or lose their eye. Which will, of course, be their own fault.
  • When going past a bus stop on a narrow street, do not put your umbrella down. This is the option for the weak willed. Keep it up, thereby ensuring the people waiting at the bus stop will have to get out of your way. This is the correct order of things.

Monday 5 October 2009

Crafting up a frenzy

I had some time off work, and decided to do....absolutely bugger all. Well, other than craft, and bond with my sofa.
So, this week I've made...a normal peacock

(which turned
into a commission for 2 peacocks, one red, one green
), a flying pig (that I'd promised for the Bright
on Twestival)
plus a mini flying pig as an apology for it taking a while
, a mini basket of roses,
a glass bottle full of rainbows,
a decorated horse / zebra, a miniature superman comic,
and a mini canvas...

And now...time to replant the triffid / spider plant into a bigger pot, and put the rhubarb and asparagus into pots and put on the window ledge.
Oh, and I need to deliver the pumpkin plant to Lorna...


Sunday 4 October 2009

The confusion of moi

Yeesh: mobile phones! I'm not usually a high tech girl with phones. I don't want an MP3 player (I have one already), or a camera (I have one of those too), I don't want anything else, I just want to make phone calls, and send texts.
But recently, I've been thinking. I pay £15 a month for a SIM only deal...and I bought my phone 18 months ago. Which means that there's no such things as an upgrade for me, or attempts to buy my loyalty. So, for a wee bit more a month, I could have a shiny new toy, and more benefits, including internet access, and a phone that doesn't have a fit for 3 days if someone tries to send me a picture text (which happened again this week - 5 failed text notifications a day on average for that).

So....I'm trying to figure out how to buy a phone. It ain't easy. I know what phone I want, so next was finding who supplies it...so there's 2 options. And, of course, I'll be going through a cashback site so I can get some money off. And I can't get the phone I want with a less than 24 month contract, so do I buy the phone for a discount and get a smaller monthly contract? Or pay for the phone entirely within the contract? I decided on buying the phone.
And then, I find out I can get free landline internet with the phone from one supplier, but the offer's only valid until the 20th. But I can't get through to my supplier to find when my landline contract ends.
And I try putting in the mobile phone and contract plan I want in the online basket, and the mobile internet access, which shows as being included on the package page, isn't there when I look at the basket detail, and is there as an extra £5 add-on option. But it's not an add-on: it's meant to be part of the package.
I called them, but after 5 mins on hold, I gave up.

I'm admitting defeat for the day...I've got a headache now!!

PHONES!!!

Tuesday 1 September 2009

Happy New Home!


This is what I made to celebrate @nancetron getting into a place of her own, and moving on with her life. Was torn between putting "Home is where the Tron is", "Home is where the Bot is" and "Home is where the robot is". As you can see, I went with robot in the end: 'bot' was a bit too close to 'bottom' to be taken seriously, and Tron didn't make sense, as Tron is Nancetron, so that would be like saying "home is where I am".

Happy Nance Home!

Monday 31 August 2009

You turn your back for a few minutes...


So, have a small shrimp tank on my desk at work. I asked in General Office who I would have to speak to for permission to keep a small tank. They advised me that the partner in charge of my floor would be the one to ask. I asked him, and he said he had no problem with it (while giving me the now traditional 'the librarian is crazy, don't make any sudden moves' look).

So I got a teeny tank. It has no filtration or anything else, as 1) the tank
is too small to fit a filter into without taking up a third of the tank, and 2) it would make noise, and as this is the worlds quietest open plan office (our kitchen area is referred to as The Big Brother Kitchen as everyone can hear everything said in it), noise is not a good thing. I'd get...frowned at.

And when I say this tank is teeny, I mean it's *really* teeny. About 4 litres. It has Java Moss, and a moss ball in it, on top of hermit crab micro sand. I wasn't really expecting much of it, hopefully just the shrimp to survive, if I was lucky. This is far smaller than is usual for shrimp, especially without filtration, but I thought I'd try my luck. If things didn't go well, I'd add a quiet filter and brazen it out with my colleagues.

It's got 5 Cherry Red Shrimp in it, and I decided after a week or two that it needed some little snails too, as the chrimp aren't able to get the algae off the sides very well, so now it's also got 5 red ramshorns snails in there too. They immediately set to work and now the sides are lovely and clear.

The shrimp seem very happy - every few days I come in to yet another 'ghost' shrimp lying on the tank floor, which is the shed remains of a moult. The shrimp can only grow through moulting, so periodically they have to split off their shell and ping themsleves out of it. To the ghost shrimp are evidence that they're growing well.

The Java Moss (a slow growing plant) is sprouting, and the shrimp love hiding in it and feeding on the biofilm that growns on it.

My colleagues love the tank, and ask for regular updates on how things are in it. It's quite amusing - the variety factor of having something living in the office!

And...

There's a breeding frenzy going on in there!

The snails have laid eggs on the tank wall (hard to show in this photo - the clear disk on the side has half a dozen little blobs embedded in it), and I think some of them have already hatched, if the tiny little blobs slowly moving along the tank walls are baby snails. I'll need to remove them when they get to a size I can grab them, as these snails are hermaphrodites, so they'll just keep on breeding madly!

The female shrimp have matured, and now I can see yellow 'saddles' on them, which are actually the eggs maturing in their ovaries. If I'm lucky, they may even breed soon. Cherry Red Shrimp don't have a larvae stage - when they're born, they're perfect little replicas of adults.

The females are the fully red ones, the male in these photos is the lighter red with whiteish sides.




There's also small things pinging around the tank. I think these are probably Daphnia / water fleas that could have arrived with the water the snails came in. They can get into the algae between the sand particles that the shrimp might have missed. They're no trouble, and nothing in there will eat them, so they should be happy too.

It's just a desktop soup of crustacean sex.

Thursday 27 August 2009

The bad side of the NHS

I've seen the whole 'we love the NHS' debate going on, and while I'd love to agree, my personal experience, and that of my elderly relatives hasn't been the happiest.

In my case, I was treated to the most horrible 'care' by the nurses in the ward where I had an operation. Ignored, treated like an idiot...given no information and regarded as a fool when I asked how to care for myself re dressing changes etc. I wasn't even told what operation I was having and what would actually be done during the op - they'd run out of leaflets when I went for the pre-op, and nobody bothered to speak to me about what was going on when I arrived on the ward. As I was in on a cancellation I felt I was lucky to get the op so soon, but on researching how I was meant to be caring for myself afterwards I found out that the op I had was meant to be incredibly painful to recover from (luckily mine wasn't), and required weeks off work....when I'd asked, I was told the op was on Friday, and I'd be back in work on Monday (not true). When going to the theatre, I got told off for having nail varnish on my finger nails...well, since I'd been given no pre op information, how was I meant to know I wasn't supposed to have any on? I was made to feel like I was an idiot for not complying with their instructions...that they'd not given me.
After the op, the nurses didn't pass on messages from my friend saying she was on her way to pick me up, so I had no idea when she was arriving, or even if she was coming at all or if I'd have to stay in. The nurse arrived to discharge me, but wouldn't help me close the curtains around my bed so I could get dressed (hours after a general anaesthetic when I was still weak), and was so rude and abrupt when I was asking about aftercare that I was almost in tears with relief when my friend collected me.
I was given the Drs copy of the op information form (in my envelope, and my copy was in the Drs envelope), and the Dr was meant to be given that form by me...so, after this op, I was then meant to go to my Drs surgery just to hand in this letter? Needless to say, as I've not been back to the Dr since, it's still sitting in my bedside drawer.
I was given no contact details of anyone to call if I had any problems, no idea of how long I would take to heal, what I could and couldn't do, I had to ask how often I was allowed to take the painkillers. I was left to look things up on the internet (never a happy plan with medical issues), and trying to figure out if things were healing correctly.
Basically, I felt the whole experience to be humiliating, and will NEVER go back to St. Johns Hospital again. I was going to write a letter of complaint but I was just so glad to not have to deal with those people again that I left it. My friend was shocked too - she'd witnessed my treatment on arrival, and how upset I was when she collected me, and was furious on my behalf, but I didn't want her to fight on my behalf, she had enough problems of her own.
That was my one personal experience with an NHS hospital, and it certainly doesn't make me want to jump up and down with delight.

So, that was me...I'm a young (ish), fit, healthy woman, able to look after myself. My Gran and my Aunt M however, are different matters. They've had such bad treatment that my family refuse to let them go into one specific hospital (Monklands), in the sure knowledge that if they go in there, they'll come out in a coffin. In the end, Gran went to Wishaw General, where she died....with dignity. This story on the BBC reminded me of some of the reasons why we won't ever let them go back there.

Aunt M is 102. About 4 years ago, she developed a swallowing problem. She was taken in to Monklands as they needed to check her fluid intake, and investigate the source of her swallowing problems. Well, in the end, nobody wanted to bother finding out what was wrong with her, they just stuck her on a drip instead - to measure her fluid intake. She also was unable to walk (due to a recent fall shaking her confidence) without her walker. So, a 98 year old woman, without her walker so unable to walk, with a swallowing and fluid intake problem. When we visited one afternoon (Gran was also in need of 24 hour care, so we couldn't spend all day with her), I put my hand on the bed, and realised it was soaking. It was all the drip fluid, that hadn't been properly attached, and had been seeping into her bed and clothes since it had been set up that morning. Without anyone checking it. So she'd spent at least 6 hours in a wet bed and clothes. When we informed the nurses, they breezed in and started stripping the bed and her, with the curtains open - we closed them to give her some privacy. Erm...dignity!??! So - the purpose of her being in there was to rehydrate her, yet they now had no idea what her fluid intake was. The nurses never had any idea what was being done for her medically when we asked them - there was no continuity, and the staff had obviously never looked at her notes before we asked them anything. She had been in for 4 days, and her false teeth had been in her mouth for 4 days, uncleaned before we realised from the smell, as it was beyond the nurses to help her put them in cleaning fluid. The swallowing problem was not investigated, but despite that she was informed that the nurses couldn't help her to eat. So, she was getting no fluids, and no food. No food for 4 days. And she was told off if her call button was too far from her hand, but if she called for help, she was ignored. She would have to cross the entire width of the ward to get to the bathroom, half of it with nothing to hold on to / across a doorway, but the nurses told her off if she called for help. They wouldn't discharge her until they knew how much fluid she'd taken in, but they were too incompetent to set up a drip that worked to rehydrate her instead of soak her bed. Aunt M, a tough, independent woman who'd lived in her own flat and shopped every day until she was 95/96, travelled Europe independantly as a young woman, and is smarter and more on the ball than half the people I know, was reduced by the nursing 'care' to a scared old woman. She begged us not to make a fuss with the nurses as they'd take it out on her, she was terrified of them, and that was so upsetting to see. The manager of the care home she lived in was also visiting that afternoon, and agreed that she had to be taken out of there before they killed her. As she wasn't a direct relative, we had to get her cousin over (a similar age to her, so not an easy trip), who then had her discharged back to the care home, where she quickly recovered, as she was given help with eating, and some human dignity and respect. If she'd stayed in, we know she'd have died - she was so scared of the staff, and weak from lack of food and fluids. And that was how she was treated when she had family and friends to help...what about those elderly that don't have someone to represent them?

Gran of course went in to Monklands one time for a urinary infection...and came out with MRSA. Which the hospital didn't inform her Dr of. Which meant the Dr sent a pregnant phlebotomist to take her blood samples. And pregnant women should NOT be around those with MRSA, as it can cause birth defects. So that poor woman then spent the remaining months of her pregnancy terrified that she'd harmed her baby. Nice work Monklands. And Gran was subject to the same 'care' that Aunt Madge received too, but as she was a direct relative, it was easier for us to get her discharged out of there faster, and my Mum and Aunt J could sit with her in shifts and make sure she was getting proper attention.

So yes, that's why I can't join in with the NHS flag waving. Technically, it's a good system. Personally, I think me and my family have experienced more than our fair share of horrible service, especially for the elderly members And it makes me worry about when something happens to my parents...it seems the older you are, the less care you receive, unless you have a family to stay there with you 24 hours a day and represent you, and I couldn't do that for my parents.

Tuesday 25 August 2009

The cross stitch

Well, Aunt J ended up with it - we agreed that she's definitely the one most rapidly turning into my Gran! Although she did manage to survive the car journey over to see me today without any sweeties...this is verging on the miraculous!

I had washed it...and that made the green outer edge thread run a bit...so then I had to get a run remover sachet, and wash it again. Let me tell you, I am SO glad to see the back of that cross stitch!!

Crustacean creation


So, @CharonQC requested a quilled creation, and I was happy to oblige. I would have found it difficult to quill something recognisable as 'him', as quilling is not really good for fine detail, more for caricature or stylised representation. So, he asked for a prawn...with a red flag!
I was happy to oblige...and I'm quite chuffed with this design, to be honest. I can't see that there'd be a lot of demand for prawns in the future, but at least if there is, I can do it again! :)

Sunday 23 August 2009

Mini craftage


So, t'was Hannah's birthday today, and we had planned to get together, but I think she's suffering from a hen-night induced hangover, so that's postponed.
In the meantime, I thought I'd post a pic of her card...my cards ain't genius, just simple, but I like 'em, and like making them, so that makes it all ok :)

I also finished another project, but I'm not uploading a pic of that until it's safely with the recipient.

Saturday 22 August 2009

Cross stitch meltdown


So, my Mum and Aunt J have been pretty hard hit by Grans death in February. They had nursed her, 24 hours a day, in Aunt Js home for 3 years, and it nearly destroyed them. 2 years in a dementia home helped ease the burden, but twice daily visiting meant no breaks, no rest...she was the centre of their life for over 5 years.

She died in February, we don't know why. Death certificate said 'Dementia', but dementia's not a reason for death, but a diagnosis of a condition of the living. She had been in pain, but morphine eased it enough for her to go painlessly. We didn't want a post mortem: what more could it tell us than that a 91 year old stopped breathing finally?

Since Gran died, their lives have been vacant: no need to go up to the Home and feed her her lunch, then ice cream and sweeties after to keep her weight up. No looking for nice things to brighten up her room, cardigans that would button up to the neck to keep her warm and warm blankets for her knees, no washing to take home and do, no bulk buying Werthers Originals, Jelly Babies, Aero Bubbles, no curling her hair and doing her nails, no singing Rawhide while pushing her in her wheelchair. THey're lost, and don't know what to do with themselves.

So, as is normal in my family, we don't take things seriously. We go visit her grave, that she shares with Grandad. We take him a fag (a heavy smoker, he died of lung cancer 25+ years ago), and leave it on the gravestone, and bring her flowers...and sweeties. The gravestone has been host to toffees, Werthers, Jelly Babies...all her favourites. It's daft, but we like it, and they would have too.

And as is also normal for us, I've been making a silly wee thing to make them laugh, but has a meaning. Y'see, the two of them are turning into my Gran. No trip was ever complete without sweeties, and now when we get in the car Aunt J starts rummaging in her bag within moments, then whips out the mints, toffees, or Werthers. Mum's acting more like her by the day too...

So, I've spent a ridiculous amount of time on making this cross stitch, working on it on train journeys and evenings. It's driven me mad, I've made so many mistakes, I've ignored it in irritation for weeks at a time, but kept going. Cos it's for them. And for my Gran. It may just look like a bit of crappy cross stitch, but it's love.

Thursday 16 July 2009

And it begins

A place for me that's not work, maybe a bit of me, maybe a bit of craft. We'll see how it goes..
 
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