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Hospital Visit

I recently had to spend 5 days in ICU after having had an operation to remove a burst appendix. The route into hospital and the people who dealt with me and did my surgery were amazing, but I just met one of each of those people. In ICU I met a lot of nurses, one per day and one per night, plus those that covered for them while they had breaks and that meant it was really interesting to me to see how these different people did their jobs. I’m going to focus on the ones who were actually assigned to me rather than the extras although a few of them might come up.

 

I arrived just as a shift was changing so technically I was admitted to a nurse who looked after me for about 30 minutes, and I was pretty out of it, so the first person I really remember was Ted who was on the night shift…

 

Ted (Monday Night)

 

Ted was really great, he got me settled and was very clear on everything that was going to happen and when it was going to happen. He also had a feature for night work that none of the others had, which was kind of awesome. He wore a kind of neck mounted pair of torches that essentially pointed down his chest. This meant that he did everything with the main lights off… which was really handy for getting a better night’s sleep. Now I was still on a lot of drugs, and Ted explained again to me how the morphine button worked… you can’t overdose as if you press the button, you get morphine, but it disables the button for 5 minutes. So, you can kind of press it as much as you like and that’s fine. Ted said, “press it as much as you need… but don’t go crazy, I’ve seen people go loopy on that stuff”.

 

I had pressed it twice when I was first out of surgery when I was really thirsty and couldn’t have water yet, but hadn’t pressed it since and didn’t really feel like I needed to. I’m sure the anaesthetic was still wearing off and I had another drip giving me paracetamol and another thing called a rectus sheath (which despite its name is attached at the front) and was giving me a regular dose of local anaesthetic. It turned out that I only pressed for morphine 4 times in total, those first two times, once the first time I got out of bed and once the first time I got back into bed. The Morphine lady who came round almost seemed to tell me off for not using it. I wasn’t trying to be brave or anything it just really didn’t seem necessary on top of everything else.

 

The longest gap in terms of attention you get, or at least I did, was between blood test readings which were every 4 hours (ish). So, I got into a routine of thinking my main sleep would start around 12:30am and then I’d be woken up again around 5am. I would usually have had a little sleep before, and a little sleep again after, but by 7:30 you were changing over to the next nurses, so people were talking around you, and about you. So, the big chance for sleep was really those 4 to 5 hours.

 

Before I went to sleep Ted said, the main thing he was looking forward to was hearing me fart. Which seemed a little odd. “Yes,” he confirmed, “in most situations you might be worried about farting or burping in public, not here. That’s exactly what we want to hear to know you are getting better.” I immediately told my family about this groundbreaking development. The next morning, Katherine woke up Nina in bed, Nina greeted her mother with a giant fart… and proudly announced, “Ted said it was ok”! Nice one Ted, you will be long remembered in this family as the person who gave permission for this activity.

 

Ted was back on nights for the next two nights, and he came and said “Hi”. Even though he wasn’t looking after me, he made a beeline and said, “I can’t believe you’re still here”, as he hoped I would have been better enough to be moved to a ward. It was really nice to see him again each time.

 

But on Tuesday morning Ted handed over to Esther…

 

Esther (Tuesday Day)

 

Esther was a really lovely and sweet young nurse who was, full of kindness and constantly wanted to check if I was comfortable and things were ok. She was also very attentive to make sure that I could reach my phone, iPad and headphones, which doesn’t seem like much, and in fact I particularly noticed it in retrospect as sometimes wheely table was left just a bit out of reach and that was low level kind of annoying. I mean, you might be built differently, but it felt particularly bad to draw attention to myself just to get my entertainment moved slightly closer. I mean I was on the ICU and some people around were really in a very bad way, so it didn’t really seem the highest of priorities, but Esther would always check as she was leaving… “right so are you going to watch something, or listen to your book, here’s your water, here’s your headphones.” Just a simple thing, but really appreciated.

 

Esther was still studying alongside doing the nursing job, she was studying more advanced level nursing and mentioned that actually this was quite common with a lot of the nurses around. They start and get experience but then they want to keep studying to get more experience. She admitted that she noticed that versus other nurses who always seemed to know exactly what to do, or what a reading meant she was still learning. Her studying was to try and help make that more automatic.

 

There were two patients on either side of me, one, the lady, was Esther’s responsibility, the other, the man, was not, but obviously when the nurse for, the man, went on break Esther was also responsible for them. The man was somebody everyone found difficult to deal with, he was clearly very ill and had a pipe down his throat which made communication near impossible, and he didn’t want that pipe down his throat so had bandage mittens on his hands to try and stop him removing the pipe. At times, his main nurse would be on break and Esther would go in and try and soothe him and discourage him from removing his pipe, “why are you doing that [name], you don’t want to do that [name]”. She would talk to him like he was a slightly naughty child but she didn’t tell him off she seemed to be trying to reason with him, “you need that pipe, where are you going now [name]?” She found it much more difficult to deal with him than many of the other nurses who seemed to be much more likely to tell him clearly what was what.

 

With the lady who was in her charge, Esther was very happy with her, but there was one moment when the lady found that she wasn’t going to be able to go home after all. She had been in the ICU for a long time and really wanted to go home. The news that she would have to stay in hospital after all, despite being told earlier in the day that she would be going home, had clearly crushed her. She really was beside herself, and Esther got the brunt of it as though it was all her fault that this had happened (it had been a doctor who had told her that the lady was going home today, and yet had asked for one more test which turned out to mean she had to stay) so clearly the doctor had been the fault here (although it was clearly a bit of an outlier situation, it was his words that had built up the expectation). Esther found it very difficult to calm and soothe her, by trying to jolly her along in terms of things not being so bad, and that this was the best place for the lady, it was tough to hear from round the corner.

 

There were often a gaggle of other nurses around Esther, they seemed to come to her station for a bit of a chat and to check in. She was, despite being young, a bit of a mother hen to the other young nurses. She reminded them about their upcoming rotas. At one point while she was talking with two other nurses a third arrived, and said, “my sisters…” which is a reasonable way to start the sentence, all of the female nurses were called sister… but she said, “my sisters in Christ”… and I noticed there were further references, “if you take that shift you’ll miss church” etc.

 

Esther brought me a great dollop of Nigerian hospitality and care and seeing these sisters together at that moment I thought… I bet 50 years ago they would have been nuns. I have nothing to back that up, it was just how it felt.

 

Dorothy (Tuesday Night)

 

On Tuesday night I swapped to Dorothy, Esther’s handover to Dorothy was funny as they were clearly warm friends and so Esther chatted away about everything, however while Dorothy clearly enjoyed Esther’s company, she was comparatively, quite quiet. The first thing I noticed about Dorothy was she was very tall and moved like she might have been a dancer. There was a great deal of precision about what she did. In a way she was like Ted, but even more so, I thought this was probably a feature of the night nurses (they really call themselves night and day nurses)… less chatty and conversational… more let’s just get on with it, and get you sleeping. Dorothy really didn’t give anything away, she just got me on with all my meds and all the tests.

 

The next morning she had been worried that my heart rate had been too weak overnight so she stopped one of my meds until the doctor was around later and could check it – fair enough… I only mention it because this caused a great deal of confusion later in the week.

 

Tim (Wednesday Day)

 

Dorothy handed over to Tim. Tim was interesting because he was an agency nurse so he wasn’t really part of the gang if you like, he didn’t really know how all of the specific systems of this hospital worked etc (although he had been there before, he needed to be reminded etc.).

 

Right after he’d been handed over to by Dorothy he came over and discussed the meds situation, saying that Dorothy had mentioned that she was worried about one of them and had asked to wait until the doctor arrived, I said that sounded fine, and Tim said, sure but you take this medicine all the time at home so it is probably fine, but let’s get me out of bed to see if the problem is that I haven’t been active enough to get my pulse moving. Then the doctor would have something to properly test.

 

I asked him about being an agency nurse and why he’d taken that path. He said that he’d been a kind of classic student and left everything until the last minute, and then realised he had absolutely no chance of finishing everything he needed to do in time to pass his exams and work as a student nurse. So, he had quit a month ahead of his exams, crammed to get everything done and then passed, but that had meant that he didn’t have a normal job entry point, so had applied to become an Agency nurse. Something he had done ever since.

 

He said he’d mainly enjoyed it as it has brought variety, but that recently the NHS has finally tried to put an end to employing agency nurses, by getting a better handle on supply staff themselves and this has ended up meaning that you aren’t paid more for being an agency nurse… and you don’t have the guarantee of a particular number of hours which makes things tricky. Tim was saying that he was finally thinking that he would have to get a permanent job, at 56. He wasn’t quite sure what to do, either training junior nurses, but that would take him away from patients, or working in a paediatric ICU that he’d previously worked in as an agency worker, something he’d found particularly rewarding… but that if he went in for a proper job, the downside is that he would get night shifts. Something that he knew at his age he’d find particularly hard to keep doing. I wonder what he’ll end up choosing, I’ll never know.

 

Tim had to deal with the same two patients on either side of me, his approach was very different. With the man, he was just very firm on where the limits were, he explained why things were happening and said he wasn’t allowed to do certain things. Not, “why are you doing this?”, more “don’t do this, it will hurt you more.” With the lady his approach was also different, although to be fair to Esther, the news was also less new. The moment he took over she complained to him that she really wanted to go home, that she had been told that she could go home and now she was stuck here. Tim said to her, “of course it’s not a prison, you can go home whenever you want, in fact we don’t want you to be here really, because we want you to be better, we’re only keeping you here because of how ill you are and to make you better.” The lady said she felt a fraud, something I felt at times too, given how ill other people were… Tim said, “that happens more than you think in ICU, we have a high bar to let you in to ICU but we actually also have a high bar to let you out too, we really want to know for sure that you won’t be coming back as that is a real waste of everyone’s time and resources. So we test and test again, and sorry if somebody made you think you’d be going home yesterday when there were more tests to run, but in the end the right place to deal with this new issue was right here, if we sent you home, or if you send yourself home which you can do of course, right now I predict you’ll only be back here and more ill than you are now, meaning even more days in ICU which we all know you don’t want”. She accepted it and was later moved to a normal ward as part of her path to heading home.

 

When Tim took her down to the ward, something strange happened. The person who had had the freed up ward bed turned out to not want to go home, so as the lady was being settled in by Tim and her new nurse all of a sudden the previous resident in the bed appeared and started a massive row about how this was her bed and that this lady shouldn’t be in it. Tim apparently dealt with that person too and headed them off and got them on their way… seemingly between defending the lady from a returning patient and also, I’m sure, due to the way that he had assured her in the morning, the lady arranged to have Tim sent a box of biscuits later that day.

 

The doctor came around at some point and said I was good to have that medicine and also that I could move onto proper food (it had been soup with Esther, and with Tim it was pureed food which was particularly unappetising), but the message for the latter came after the food die was cast so I ate my pureed dinner knowing I probably could have had something better.

 

Sam (Wednesday Night)

 

Tim handed over to Sam. Sam was late 30s, and would be exactly the kind of person that would get cast as the cheeky younger sister or friend of the main female character in a romantic comedy. The first thing she said to me, while the kind of mild chaos of the handover was going on was, “has it been like this all day?” Like somehow, she and I were on the same side against all this.

 

Sam had a bit of an unusual demeaner of the nurses I had so far, as on the surface she didn’t seem overly kind and caring, although I was to discover she really was. Part of the difference with her was that she was the only nurse I dealt with all week who had changed jobs to become a nurse, everyone else had been a nurse for the whole of their career. Sam had been an insurance broker, then had had a lifechanging significant illness, which had seen her in and out of hospital multiple times and for long stretches and had been looked after so well that she decided that she needed to pay something back by becoming a nurse herself.

 

Because she had bucked the trend like this it was clear, from some comments from some other nurses, that she was a bit “confusing”. It seems that the usual way to read “how experienced is this colleague” is essentially “how old is this colleague”, whereas Sam was older but still quite junior.

 

The main thing from my perspective was that Sam was funny, and also maybe because of having been a patient so many times really had a strong empathy for what it was like to be in my position. Esther had said earlier in the week that she was scared of ever having surgery, something she’d never had, and not particularly that reassuring for somebody who sees lots of people post-surgery. Sam was like, “oh I bet that arterial canula is painful, they always are, let’s see if I can get the doctor to give me permission to remove it”. She’d been on the other side.

 

Despite Sam saying that she had become a nurse because of how amazing the nurses had been to her, she also had lots of stories about how she’d regularly discharged herself, and again a bit like Esther checking that the headphones were in the right place she paid attention to things like that. She said at one point, “yeah let me work out all the things that are going to beep, I remember a nurse who left me with a machine that was beeping for an hour, when she came back she asked who had been in to change the settings on the machine, I told her I had done it because I couldn’t stand the idea of a machine beeping at me for an hour, and she looked shocked… but don’t you mess with anything alright… but in exchange I won’t leave anything beeping that shouldn’t”.

 

It seems like such a minor thing, but man alive there were a lot of things that beep when it doesn’t seem that important to anyone… I mean there are clearly certain kinds of important beeping that are louder and rise above everything else… and when they happen somebody pretty quickly comes and checks on you… but there is a lot of low level beeping that everyone just ignores… well all the nurses do… but as a patient it’s a lot harder to ignore… first the beep is much closer to you… and second you have no way of knowing if this is or isn’t an important beep. Are the people not coming because it’s not important, or are they not coming because it is important but they are out of earshot?

 

Anyway, Sam sorted out the beeping, but she couldn’t convince the doctor to let her remove my arterial canula, but that was fine. She was pushing for trying to make me more comfortable in my stay and that was a nice feeling. At one point in the middle of the night I woke up to see Sam in the corridor, I guess she had just returned from being on a break, and she was wearing a giant woollen hat with a massive pompom on the top, it made me laugh. In the morning, Sam revealed that she was going on holiday that afternoon, which seemed like it would be particularly weird, so you do a night shift, then sleep during the day and then catch a 5pm flight to Spain. She was worried about oversleeping and missing her flight.

 

When Sam initiated the handover to Louise, I was slightly worried, Louise looked very intimidating. Then Sam explained something she had done with one of the other patients she had been dealing with, and Louise suggested that wasn’t right, and that something else would need to be done. Sam was adamant that it was the right thing. Her parting words before heading home to sleep and then go on holiday were, “good luck with Louise, it’s easy to piss her off, I’ve only been speaking to her for 5 minutes and I already have”.

 

Louise (Thursday Day)

 

Louise, did look a little intimidating. She was the oldest of the female nurses I saw, she actually turns out to be the same age as me (45), just younger by 7 days. Part of the seeming sternness was simply that she wore transparent plastic reading glasses, the ones you can get 10 for £10 on Amazon apparently, which sat on the end of her nose and kind of obscured her face. Louise came in to introduce herself and check my vitals, and I suppose to follow on from the point Sam had made. Louise said, “you see she looks older, but she’s not got that much experience, everyone makes mistakes, when you’ve made a mistake, it is better to learn from it not to double down. That’s why I was annoyed.”

 

Louise definitely gave off very different vibes than say Esther at the beginning of the week. She was not in that kind of default warm friendly mode, but she asked what I do for a job, and what Katherine did, and I thought I was about to tread into a difficult area as Katherine works for a minority rights charity, and she started talking about the recent protests. She said she really didn’t keep up with the news, but that her mum had been asking her about it and had said it was something to do with people wanting to fly flags, but she’d looked into it and as far as she could tell it was about bad people wanting to be horrible to unfortunate people and nothing to do with flags at all. Having talked about our jobs, we talked about hers, and she said, “it’s a funny kind of job really isn’t it, helping people who need help. You have to help people who need help, it’s always seemed to me, doesn’t seem like a job just something you have to do”.

 

She returned to the topic of minority rights, and said, she’s always said to her brothers that they are a minority of 3… well she said, how many people do you think are Armenian Indian? Her mother was from Armenia (I think, she really didn’t focus on it for long it could have been Greece, my memory on this is a little confused), her father from Bangalore. Having been to Bangalore many times I talked about that, and she mentioned that she had never been. No, she’d been too obsessed with skiing so any time she went on holiday it was either skiing or somewhere like Spain in the summer sometimes.

 

I was surprised by the Skiing so pressed on this aspect, she said it was her ADHD, she suddenly got into things. She had left home when she was 16, completely done with it, and then got into nursing and suddenly one day she’d seen somebody skiing on tv and thought, I reckon I could do that, and so she booked a skiing holiday for that weekend. She didn’t even have the money saved or time off really to take it, so she’d got special permission to take holiday in advance, and then went off and skiing. She said it was surprising to her that it hadn’t just left her again, skiing, but it was one that came back again and again, suddenly she’d just remember and think, “right I better go skiing again” and then realise it was summer.

 

Her ADHD was a big feature of our conversation, Nina has had her diagnosis and so we compared notes. She explained that she’d done really well with her floor in her flat which was engineered wood. She hadn’t liked it since she had moved in, but on the other hand didn’t want it to be carpet. She was pleased with herself that she hadn’t done anything about it for years, but then there had been something that looked like it might be a wet patch and she wondered what was underneath it and then had needed to know what was underneath it, so had started pulling it up, and now she knew what was underneath it (concrete) but as she’d started pulling it up she’d have to keep pulling it up. A job for the weekend.

 

She hadn’t done anything about it the day before because she’d been at her brother’s house cleaning his house. So, despite being a nurse, and having a day off, she used that to clean her brother’s house? Yes, she needed to, he’s married and they both work and they have 3 kids and two dogs, “so you can imagine”. It had been a thing she had really wanted to do for ages, but it’s difficult because “he’s my brother, but she’s not my sister if you know what I mean”. I wasn’t sure I really did know what she meant, but she explained, “well it’s different with brothers and sisters isn’t it, well I’d imagine with sisters as I don’t have one, but I have a cousin and it’s the same with her, with family you can say, ‘you need help cleaning your house, I can help, let me do that’ and it’s fine and understood that it doesn’t mean anything except you want to help and that’s why you’re helping, but with my brother’s wife it’s like I’m saying she can’t look after her house properly, and she can’t really but I’m not saying it like it’s something she can’t do, I’m saying it like it’s something that’s not happening that I can help with and will make them all feel better, but I didn’t want them to feel worse about it, so it’s taken a while for it to be ok. Same with the kids really, if I’m with my cousin’s kids she just lets me get on with it, but with my brother’s kids the mothers are hovering, it’s just not the same.”

 

I asked her if she was still studying too given she had explained she was more experienced than some of the more junior nurses. She said she wasn’t at the moment, because she was taking a break, but she probably would in the future, and I asked her what more of her studies she had to do, and she said there was lots more, but having finished her masters on Thomas Aquinus she was taking a break. I had, in my head been thinking she was studying nursing, so this was a bit of a surprise. “Yes,” she said, “it had been a surprise me too. I woke up one night in the middle of the night with an idea to study a course and I googled courses that started soon and one on theology was going to start that Saturday”. So, she’d written an email to the professor and asked if she could enrol, the professor wrote back to say she could but only if she could get the whole application in by the next day, so she did that and started on the Saturday. It had taken her 5 years to complete the course alongside working in nursing full time (and that was a year longer than it should have been because of Covid). But she was glad she had stuck with it. I mentioned that Nina often got whims like this, and started lots of things, but I was impressed that she’d been able to stick with her whims for 5 years. “Well yes I’m incredibly stubborn, that’s why, and once I’ve started something I hate to waste the effort I’ve already made”.

 

She did actually yawn at this point, so I asked her if using a day of leave up cleaning her brother’s house had tired her out, she said it might have, but probably what had more tired her out was joining a choir last night, which she had done for the first time. Just on the other end of the Lizzy line from where she lived, she mentioned it’s not a religious choir, but that it’s still ok. She’d had to quit the church choir because the person in charge of the choir let everyone sing at different paces and it was a nightmare, and because she had the strongest voice people would end up following her, except those that didn’t and it all sounded like a racket, so she had to leave that, but that it was good she’d found this other choir, but it did mean she’d got in late last night.

 

Louise was really brilliant for me, she got three pipes removed from me after consultation with the doctor (the doctor still wasn’t happy with removing the arterial canula), and I mentioned that that was actually the thing that hurt the most. Louise said, “well that’s not surprising is it… you’ve got a bit of plastic shoved in you and when you move you’re putting pressure on your wrist and that’s shoving the plastic in more. So, you shouldn’t be surprised.” She put a bandage on my hand which stopped things from freely moving, but also she said, “you’ll be surprised, but having that bandage will mean that when you look down at your hand before you use it to support yourself you’ll remember to be careful, I don’t know why it makes such a difference but it does.” She was right, I didn’t hurt myself with the canula from then on because you always end up looking where you are putting your hand before you put it somewhere, and this reminded me each time.

 

On the other pipes that she got removed, she really helped there too, the answer about removal came back really quite late from the doctors and quite close to the handover to the shift to the next nurse. She said she’d looked at the rota and the next nurse, given who she was looking after, wouldn’t have time to remove anything, so she said would I mind getting into bed, getting everything removed pretty quickly, and then getting back out of bed she’d do it now. She said that, while it was a bit of a pain for me getting in and out of bed, it would make for a much better night’s sleep. I was more than happy to oblige.

 

When she was removing one pipe from me, she apologised because she removed it without having warned me, she said, “it’s funny I spent years telling people I was going to do something that was going to hurt and they tensed up and I think it hurt them more, now I just do it and say sorry and it seems less bad for everyone”.

 

Also, and I will be eternally grateful for this, she questioned why on earth I was still being assigned pureed food, the doctor confirmed again that I didn’t need to be, but the notes hadn’t been updated. Thanks to Eugine (next door day nurse who asked this vital question of the doctor while Louise was away dealing with somebody else, Louise had impressed this upon him and Eugine came through). That night for dinner I was supposed to have my first “normal” meal… but more pureed food came. Quite the disappointment, clearly not as bad as my former neighbour thinking she was going home but having to stay, but these little things can be a little crushing. I said not to worry, I’ll have a go at this, and we’ll get it sorted for tomorrow, but Louise wasn’t having it. She went down to the kitchen and got me a chicken tikka masala, with onion bargees and rice. It was SO GOOD!

 

As you can probably tell Louise was my hero!

 

Davina (Thursday Night)

 

Because Louise had kind of done everything, Davina and I hardly needed to interact which was lucky because as Louise had predicted Davina was busy with other people in the ICU. This suited me because with now the only point of attachment to the machines being the two cannulas in my left arm, I was now able to finally get some decent sleep. She started her shift at 7:30pm and I was asleep by 8:15, woke for my meds at 12:30, slept until 5:30 for next tests and meds, asleep again until 7 when I was given my meds and handed over to Poilin.

 

Poilin (Friday Day)

 

Poilin was kind, lovely and sweet and was great at making sure I was as ready as I could be to be able to go home, but there was this one question about my medicine which suddenly they weren’t willing to give me. This was a hangover from the note Dorothy had made several days earlier, and that a doctor had checked and then said was ok, but clearly while that doctor’s correction had worked on the Thursday, it was suddenly not allowed today. Very strange. Anyway, the doctor arrived and fixed that and said he thought I would probably go home today… but that it would really depend on the consultant.

 

I then had tea, toast and marmalade for breakfast. The first proper breakfast I had had, and I really began to feel a bit more human. Then the surgeon arrived and said, “he should go home, but there’s one more test that I need him to do”… I can see how that other lady could have got confused, and then finally the consultant came round and said, “well if the surgeon doesn’t need him then I certainly don’t, especially as that final test is all good” and all of a sudden I was free. Well almost, I needed my bandages changing and to be told about what to do about the bandages and to be officially discharged, and in the meantime, I even got lunch which was a cheese sandwich! It might not seem much but after pureed food it was amazing. And finally, I was allowed to actually go home.

 

I was so well looked after by all of the nurses in the ICU, they were all so brilliant, and different and wonderful. I really enjoyed meeting them, but as Louise said to me, “I mean this in the best possible way, do us a favour and don’t come back”.

 

I’ll try my best Louise.

I was at the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition

And two ladies were in front of me admiring the art.

“I don’t want to talk about it” by Frances Featherstone

They were looking at this painting and one turned to the other and said, “I’m not sure about lines in things”.

I didn’t take a picture of her, but I was intrigued by her opinion, especially as she was wearing a dress with stripes.

Dr Splatterjacket

My associate Dr Splatterjacket has just launched his website with his first invention ScrewShades.

ScrewShades a combination of sunglasses and two screwdrivers.

Dr Splatterjacket is an interesting character and I’m sure we will find out more from him each week.

Dr Splatterjacket in his lab.

I’m working on this project with illustrator Dani Safritra.

Check out the website: https://splatterjacket.com

Remember Anatole

Hello everyone, gosh what happened to 2017? Well a lot happened, but nothing much on this here blog. Gamboling has been going now for 14 years!!! Last year was a busier one, this one a very quiet one. You dear reader do deserve something from me don’t you. You need something to help you while away the days until Giggles Advent starts. Of course you do, you deserve it.

I have written you an interactive story, it’s called Remember Anatole.

I hope you have fun with it.

Split Screen

Since this blog has been restarted there has been an amazing reaction from the movers, and to a certain extent the shakers (although I will be honest and state, for the record, that the shakers were a lot more interested in making wooden furniture than I had initially imagined). The advertising spods have been straight on it… Urging me to leverage my brand into another vertical – as if that’s a thing.

Well I do have a business idea and it concerns the pictures, you know the flicks, you know the movies? How about this plan?

Well what do you think?

Oh you’re just going to give it the silent treatment – how rude.

Oh I suppose you insist everyone explains their actual idea before casting judgement, Cuh!

Well here it is, half a film in your lunch break.

The first half of a film is shown twice, once from 12-1 and again between 1-2. And then the second half shown twice on the next day.

Films are shown like that for a week – on Monday & Tuesday, then again on Wednesday & Thursday, and on Friday they whole film is shown.

Only 90 minute films are shown so you see 45 minutes of film in the hour slot, which means you can get in and out in your lunch break.

Say this week the film is going to be everyone’s favourite golfing film -Caddyshack. I take my lunch break at 12 o’clock, so I zip down the pictures and watch the first half of the film. On Tuesday my 11 o’clock meeting is running late, so I decide to take lunch at 1pm and watch the second half. Or I could have decided to wait until Thursday when the second half was also on.

Now I know I’m not a movie mogul or an owner of a cinema. But if you want to steal my idea please do. Just call it Split Screen and I’ll be happy.

Life isn’t like a box of chocolates

Life is only like a box of chocolates, if you throw away the bit of paper with the descriptions on it. Obviously then you would never know what you were going to get, but you have to ask yourself why? Why would you throw away the bit of paper if you hadn’t finished the chocolates? I mean are you stupid or what? But in the end it’s all chocolate. It’s not as if you are about to find the lost treasure of Sierra Madre. It’s chocolate, chocolate, chocolate with a nut, chocolate, chocolate with a different kind of nut. If you never knew what you were going to get, it would be chocolate, chocolate, experimental poetry, chocolate, atomic bomb. That’s what life’s like.

About Roast Chicken

I love a roast dinner done properly. But they are divisive beasts. In the UK, they are often the dish most likely to evoke a cry, most often heard in Italy, “I like it the way my Mum cooked it when I was growing up”.

When I was a boy, my brother and his mate devised a plan similar to the we-both-pretend-we’re-going-to-each-other’s-house-but-we’re-actually-going-down-the-park. They both claimed that the other’s mum served Yorkshire puddings even with roast chicken. It worked for a bit, and we got this “fusion” version served a few times before my mum saw sense.

People do have these quirks, somebody’s mum I’m sure does serve Yorkshires with roast chicken and their kids go around in the world thinking everyone else is plain wrong. People often want to have or recreate the roasts their parents served. Or absolutely do not. I have a friend who refers to this meal as “a oven cooked chicken with veg” so it technically doesn’t count as having a roast dinner, something he felt was ruined for him by his parents in his youth.

My father makes an outstanding Roast Beef for which he roasts ribs. It is unequaled in my experience and so I don’t really attempt it. My mum’s roast chicken is far more achievable (not that that doesn’t make it fabulous) and so Roast Chicken is the roast I turn to. I have made a few changes and modifications over the years, so it now feels like my roast chicken recipe for my family. But the lineage is there.

There is also a lot of influence from Nigella Lawson. I love what she says about roasting a chicken in “How to Eat” for her “Tagliatelle with Chicken from the Venetian ghetto”, her roast potatoes from “Feast” and most importantly an almost throw away comment from “Nigella Express” which shaped a lot of my thinking about cooking generally.

I like quick and easy no-fuss recipes a lot so a book like Nigella Express is great, it’s quick but not as fussy as Jamie and his 30- or 15-minute meals. Not trying to make a masterpiece, just trying to be successful quickly. And in her Express book she has a roast chicken recipe. And she asks the question, how can a recipe that clearly takes at least an hour and a half be considered quick? Well she suggests doing everything in a pan all together and she makes the point that actually roasting a chicken can take as little as 5 minutes prep work and then the oven does the rest and during that time you can be washing your hair or whatever.

It’s true that you don’t have to do much when roast chicken is in your otherwise quick meal, but isn’t really true when dealing with a roast chicken dinner with potatoes and veg and gravy and all of the proverbial trimmings. When doing a roast chicken dinner, there are quite a few things to get right. But don’t worry… I have your back. Next week’s recipe should be the foolproof roast chicken recipe you’ve been looking for.

Update on time for a change

So as you may know, last week I changed time forever with my new universal system of time. Since then, apart from the customary Nobel prizes, Field Medals and various Gongs and Bulls that have been flowing in, there has been one consistent message which is, “what on earth are you talking about, and what is the point of it?”.The point is that there are two problems to solve with time zones. The genuine “I’m on the other side of the world” type time zone problems where you need a big adjustment and the “small regional differences” which are different because everyone wants to go to work at around nine in the morning and leave around five in the afternoon. This system tries to fix both problems, but to understand it let’s take them one at a time.
1) People who are near each other

People who are near each other shouldn’t be on different time zones at all. There is no point in Europe and Britain having different time zones. They only do because Britain and France both want to go to work at 9am (ish) and they want it to be light from an hour before in the morning most of the time for commuting. The traditional way to solve this is to let each zone have it’s own time and make 9am be at lots of different times around the world. But there is another way. They could just start work in France at 8am instead and leave at 4pm. But there would be uproar apparently. They would be going to work at the same actual time of the day as they were before, but just be calling that time 8am now. But people can’t cope with change like that.

So what we do is trick them. We change to splitting the day into quarters not halves and at the same time tell people “work will start at the new time of x”. That way nobody will notice that we’ve just converted the world into only having 4 time zones.

First of all this means I can work out if I can call anyone in the same quarter of the world as me by simply saying “can I call you at 2 in the morning”. It means the same thing to them wherever they are.


2) People a long way away

Suddenly working out times for people in Australia is easy too. If I want to work out what time to call them, I know their morning and afternoon are my evening and night. Night isn’t a good time for calls for me, but evenings are ok. So now I know that my evening is their morning I can call them at a convenient time. I can even say, “can I call you at 2 in the morning your time?” and know that that will be 2 in the evening my time. The numbers always line up.

In between is easy too. America is all on one time zone now. Morning for America is Afternoon for Europe. That’s all you need to remember.


3) This is all very interesting but can I see it as a picture?

  

I think we’ll need to drill into some specific time examples next week, but for now I’ll let you digest time itself.

Closing Time

“As your brother I advise you to drive as quickly as possible to the supermarket.”

It was the first warm day of the year, and Pete’s hand was hovering over the stereo. He was about to subject me to some contemporary culture and I knew it. If this trip was going to succeed, I would need some strong salt and vinegar crisps, a pre-packaged sandwich and more beer than the recommended daily intake suggested by the UK’s chief medical officer.

The situation had begun at the desk the previous day. It was the end of work before the weekend and I was keen to get home and prepare for my first camping trip in almost 20 years. There was probably a list of things that I needed to take with me. But it was Friday night and those things could wait. A colleague approached the desk and said, “who’s going to take me out for a beer?”, my boss demurred and in doing so gently shoved me under the path of the 20 tonne truck we like to call Bob.

Bob’s a lovely fellow, everyone agrees. But a one-on-one session with Bob at the bar can end badly or well depending on your definition. And nine pints later, we agreed that it had gone very well. The world had been set straight on its axis, which actually would be very bad for the world but we didn’t seem to mind. The next morning the world was still spinning, in more ways than one, and suddenly my camping trip seemed more of an ordeal than had originally been indicated.

Luckily my brother was going to be in attendance to convey me to our destination. An inability to drive was clearly indicated, as was not listening to loud electronic remixes of the hit parade. But if I had to acquiesce on one point, it had to be the music. You see Pete can’t drive if he’s not listening to a rhythmic thumping beat. I know, we’ve tried. Britain’s top scientists have looked into the phenomenon and decided that in terms of difficulty to solve it’s up there with the question of what all that ‘dark matter’ is doing. If I were going to face the music, certain situations would have to be dealt with.

We ranged around the supermarket and found everything we needed. The fridge doors in the shop didn’t close automatically, and the fridges were constantly beeping in protest at their poor treatment. I wanted to shout at them, “Evolve, I have seen the future, fridges with automatic closing doors”, but Pete just quietly and considerately closed the doors.

Back in the car we noted that we had managed the incredible speed, thus far on our journey, of less than half a mile an hour. Pete suggested that we might need to increase this speed if we were going to make it to Rob’s in time for the football to start. I had forgotten about this, apparently there was to be a game – televised – for people’s purported entertainment. It didn’t make sense to me, it never has, but Pete insisted he wanted to be present for kick-off.

Our journey was delayed by an accident on a junction, a grim reminder of the ease with which something can turn into nothing. The way things suddenly, and with no indication, can come to an end. We all make a choice, do we mourn the end that’s coming before it’s come or only after it’s gone? It was a sad foreshadowing of our entire endeavour. Our weekend was to celebrate the departure of one of our number. Our cousin Stewart was about to move to New Zealand. It’s not a final departure, but it’s a long way to go. And our relationship will change forever. Our relationship is based on times when we gather the family all around us, bringing everyone together, but also on weekends of loud music and revelry. Something that will be hard to recapture once he has gone to the other side of the world.

I once spent a week in his front room. We watched Wimbledon tennis in the day, and movies in the evening. We averaged seven movies a day for five days. A misspent youth? Or a long hard soak in the prevalent culture of the generations before ours? How can you react to a culture unless you’ve explored it?

So would we mourn his departure before it happened? No, we would not. We’d continue on like normal, living one more weekend without consequences. The consequences will come later, but to think of them now was against the spirit of the thing.

We pulled up to the side of the road outside cousin Rob’s house and found him putting sticks into the ground. Rob said he was trying to protect some plants from an aggressive lawnmower advocate who operated locally. He would mow anything that looked like lawn, even if it was lawn enhanced with flowers. The sticks might do the trick thought Rob, and deter the aggressor from his task.

As we were discussing this, cousin Stewart and Rod (who isn’t a cousin) turned up. Rod is Stew’s best friend from school. They went to the same university together and shared a house there. He’s technically not a cousin but I’ve known him since we were all kids together.

It was time to put drinks in the fridge and for the football to start. Pete and Rob went to the living room to watch a five-nil defeat for Pete’s team. The apparent draw of the beautiful game not having reached myself, Stew or Rod, we set to putting up the tent.

My calling has never been in the so called “physical” end of the spectrum so I immediately seized the instructions and helped as best I could. My dramatic reading of the instructions was immediately praised by the Tony awards panel, but somehow didn’t seem to get the job actually achieved.

There were pegs that had to go into the ground. At one point it seemed to be clear that they were trying to put one tent up inside another tent. All of it seemed wrong to me, not in a “you are doing this wrong” kind of way, but in a fundamental “this can’t be how this works” way. But apparently it was.

In the end the tent was up, and the football was finished and so it was time to go to the pub for dinner. Everyone we had met had said, “oh are you going to the pub in town” and Rob had said, “oh no we’re not going there, we’re going to the pub across the fields”. Everyone had expressed surprise and doubt at this, but Rob had remained confident. “So Rob,” I asked, “how long does it take to get to this pub”? I was wondering about how many beers to carry with us for the journey. “Oh,” he replied, “I don’t know, I’ve never walked there”. I think the panic suddenly must have showed on my face. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I know these woods like the back of my hands”. “I think,” I said, “that is the opening line from the Blair Witch Project”.

We decided to proceed with the plan despite the obvious issues, as we were about to set off, I stuck a couple of cans in my pocket. The cans had been keeping cool outside the house – something that should have alerted us to the obvious temperature issues in relation to our tent-based sleeping arrangements later that evening. The beers were nice and cold, I stuck the two cans of Guinness in my pocket and thought about setting off. Just then it started to drizzle. I then said one of those things that may turn out to be one of the most idiotic things I’ve ever said in my life, “it looks like it’s starting to rain, maybe we should get going so we get there before the rain really takes hold”.

Who is the greater fool, the fool or the fool who follows him? That’s not clear, but what is clear is that we all decided to set off. It seemed like the right thing to do – we had giant umbrellas, and we were walking across fields in a lightning storm – what could possibly go wrong? Maybe it was time for one of us to check out? But luckily it seems Pete, Rob, Stew, Rod and I had a little bit more life on our clocks.

The walk through the woods was fraught with difficulties, chief of which was what to do with our empties. The answer was, it turned out, to store them in branches of felled trees for our return journey as our ancestors had done. Rob assured us that this was the way to behave out in the country and we happily obliged.

By the time we arrived at the pub it had stopped raining, we could have easily avoided walking in the rain, but we would have actually found that less fun. We were there for the experience. We walked into the pub and ordered six pints of experience. There was beer here, it was lovely, other correspondents might be able to tell you what the beer was, but I cannot.

Now we were at the pub it was obvious that if we wanted to enjoy dinner in the style to which we had become accustomed (i.e. having a table) we would need to seek one out. Pete and Rod headed off in one direction finding a low table that was free amongst several sofas. But Stew, Rob and I kept our eye on the prize, a table near the bar with enough room for the five of us.

While we waited for the table, the conversation turned to matters of ancient history, to how things were when we were kids…

We are grown ups now, we must be. Most have kids and look down on the foolishness of children. We like to think of ourselves as perpetual children, but do we really behave that way? We act the fool and we tilt at moments of madness, but could we do anything truly childlike and escape our day to day reality?

My daughter will concoct a world where she seems to really actually believe she is a dog for hours on end and not respond unless we pat her on the head and say, “good doggie”. I admit that the thread of reality is there for her, she knows she isn’t a dog, but – and this is the point – she also doesn’t consider what others might think about her pretending to be a dog. For all our flights of fancy as adults, and how we like to pretend we aren’t grown up, there aren’t many of us who could actually behave like this.

But despite this we loved the time that we were all kids together, and we all pretend to ourselves that we haven’t really grown up. So those days of cricket on the lawn might still happen, the conversations and run-ins with Granddad might happen at any moment. It’s all alive for us in this conversation despite being gone for 25 years.

There’s no foolishness here, I don’t want you to get that impression, these were some of the most important moments for “us” as individuals and for “us” as a group. It’s only fair that we remember them. I know a bit more about some of those moments, because Granddad came and lived with us towards the end, and we talked about this for the first time in that pub. For the first time of the weekend, it seemed like the last time we’d be doing this.

The group of ladies on the ideal table decided that they’d finished nursing the bag of crisps and J20 that they had been passing around for the last hour. We wanted to be polite, but we also wanted to swoop like ravenous vultures. Luckily we have been brought up so that our ravenous vulture swoop looks polite and the ladies actually complement us on it.

We sit and examine the menu, there will be steak, this will happen, but what else? Pete declares that he has stopped eating wheat. Is this one of those fad diet things? He doesn’t seem the sort. He assures us that it isn’t.

He was at work and one of his colleagues mentioned that he couldn’t have a sandwich for lunch. Why not, Pete had asked? His colleague said it was because he wasn’t eating wheat anymore. Why not? Pete asked, some kind of fad diet? No said the colleague, it was because his wife had been complaining about his absolutely killer farts. She had looked something up online about it and found that it might be an allergy to wheat causing the problem. Pete heard this with slack jawed amazement. Pete had previously had terrible reactions to wheat beer. Could this finally be the thing that stopped him from having to declare his whereabouts to NATO in case they misattributed his actions to a chemical weapons attack?

While Pete was telling this story, the attractive barmaid was hovering behind him waiting to take our order. Normally we would have interrupted to speed her night along, but the chance of embarrassing Pete was too good. She cringed every time he said the word “fart”, thus far enhancing the story for us.

We made the decision to switch to wine with dinner, and it was noted by the bar staff. “How are you enjoying your weekend away?” they asked. How did they know we were on a weekend away? They accused us of being a company on a team-building exercise. “Look,” they said, “the boss is ordering this fancy wine and putting it on expenses.” “No that’s just Al.”

We ordered one more bottle to have when we got home and headed off. It was dark now, our torches helped, but drunken exuberance helped even more and the journey passed without incident until Rob needed to pause briefly to, ahem, examine the shrubbery. We carried on walking following Rod’s off road biking GPS that uses the ordinance survey map. When we realised we had lost Rob, we all shined our torches back to check where he was, blinding him. He soon recovered and we headed back, collecting all of the cans we had secreted on the way.

When we got back we sat in Rob’s living room and put on the Jimi Hendrix Experience. We used to live in a world where we aspired to Jimi’s experience, and now had we become parodies of the people we pilloried? Of course we believed we were different, of course we know that we’re not like the people we work with, of course we aren’t becoming “the man”. But look from the outside? Drinking wine and eating fancy steak at the pub. They don’t think of Jimi Hendrix, they think of us as “the man”.

Where did the dream go? Stew is moving to the other side of the world because it feels right. Not because it necessarily makes sense. Is sense the enemy of right? Dark thoughts at 2am. Is it fair to criticise ourselves because we have become what we were destined to be?

The music stops and as we switch to Led Zeppelin, it’s clear that Stew and Rod haven’t made it. They have conked out. A brief respite, and as the music kicks in, Rob and I seem to get our second wind.

Almost at the same time, Stew and Rod wake up, after a bit of bleary eyed questioning of where they are they ask perhaps the most crucial question, where is Pete? He isn’t here anymore. He went to the bathroom, Rob and I remember that, but where next?

He’s found moments later, face-down in Rob’s bed. He said he was going to the loo, he obviously decided not to return. We decide that this is the moment to make our way to the tent outside. This seemingly took an hour.

We actually had to scrape the ice off the outside of the tent as we are getting in. The dew had frozen. I had a inflatable double mattress to sleep on, just as our ancestors did. Everyone else has gone for more traditional tent-based sleeping arrangements.

Pete’s decision, such as it was, to take an early bath in Rob’s bed cost him dearly in the morning. As we woke up with the morning sun, it was clear that his use of a bed made him responsible for the morning tea, coffee and breakfast. I also decided this action would largely make him responsible for driving us home, it seemed clear to me that my driving wasn’t indicated once again.

A chap turned up with a metal detector and wanted to show us what he had found in the neighbouring fields. Why was he here? Maybe Rob knew, but we couldn’t ask.

We ate our breakfast on the pub garden table Rob had in his garden. We talked about our future, our loss as Stewart left. And what the future held for him. He didn’t know, how could he? Better of him to be honest about that then pretend to have the answers. He was off on his adventure.

It started to pour with rain, we went inside. The metal detector man didn’t have to worry because he was eating his breakfast in his car. It was time to go.

The hedonistic weekend had passed, as well as it could. We had enjoyed it. It was excellent to be that free. But we had questioned one of our members’ decision to move to the other side of the world without a plan. We questioned it because we love him and don’t want him to go, but mainly we question it because we have forgotten what being free is really like. While things are changing, he’s not really gone. We will see him, and maybe he will continue to teach us what life is really about?

This article might have wallowed, but the weekend did not. Sometimes it’s important not to think about the whole of your life. Don’t make the mistake of forgetting to celebrate the changes, but don’t spend the last chance you have to enjoy them crying instead of celebrating it.