Bloomin' unholy

We don't have much of a garden. Similarly, I don't have much of a green thumb, and nor does Julie. Since we have limited resources and abilities, we try and make sure everything we plant is as easy as possible to grow and maintain.

Unfortunately, there is something of a running battle with the local cat population and since Julie is actually rather fond of cats, my subconscious desire for an automatic machine-gun nest has to remain that way for now.

..uhhh... whoops...
Oh well.

Because of the cats, much of what goes into the garden needs to be pretty hardy. Stuff like shrubs and trees. Well, I say that, but they've done a bang-up job of killing my lovely yellow fir tree by spraying against it. Little bastards. By contrast, the fuschia appears to be immortal and the bay tree unstoppable. Both, however, pale in comparison to the buddleia in the front garden (read as 'strip of earth between house and pavement'), which has to be butchered to the ground annually and trimmed and bound at least twice throughout the growing season. I love it, and so does the insect community.

Meanwhile, there are a couple of pots in the back garden with some lilies, chosen by Julie, which also contain some of her mother's ashes. This year, however, there are a couple of intruders...

I checked (good ol' Google image search) afterwards and found the flowers were indeed snapdragons, which much have self-seeded from somewhere else.

Pretty, aren't they? We tend to call them 'rhubarb-and-custards'.

The wrong side of the tracks

Julie has a friend, an ex-colleague she has kept in touch with. The thing is, Julie's friend, Sue has a reputation for being a bit absent-minded and prone to changing her mind six or seven times a minute. Put it this way - even Julie labels Sue as being 'a bit dappy'.

Yes, I know. Scary, isn't it?

Quite some time ago, we were giving Sue a lift to visit a friend in Bexhill, the next town along from us. I have already related one part of this journey (click here to read).

The thing is, just before that event, Julie and Sue were deeply engaged in a conversation about the location of the local railway line.
From the outset, I was astounded by the fact this conversation was taking place - and that it was going on for so long. Back and forth, the two women tried to work out where the trains would be going by. After a few minutes of this, I snapped.

Just in case anyone thinks I'm being too harsh on Sue and Julie, may I present this map, courtesy of Google.

See that blue stuff? That's the sea, that is.

Having a (non)sense of place

[My apologies, today's post is a little on the lengthy side.]

Working at the hospital can be dangerous. Quite apart from abusive drunks on the night shifts, germ-ridden people coughing into your face or razor-sharp instruments seemingly waiting to cut you at the first opportunity, there are the trolleys. Sorry if that reads like I am being flippant towards the last one, but I'm not. It's admittedly not as potentially lethal as the others, but it's a real danger nonetheless.
Imagine you have a trolley laden with its contents - and this goes for the hospital beds being pushed around, too - moving along a corridor. Maybe one wheel sticks, maybe they're all very free-flowing. However, the fact remains that a huge chunk of metal is being pushed and/or pulled by one or two people. What happens when you come to negotiate a corner, or go through a door? It's going to be tricky, holding the door open with one hand and manipulating the trolley with the other.

That's when you need to be careful.

Julie found this out to her cost recently, as she was trying to move a loaded food trolley (and they're very heavy, I am told) into a corridor, out of a lift (elevator, to US English speakers). One of the wheels caught her foot, which obviously hurt like blazes. Julie, being bought up to not worry about things and to get on as best as she can, didn't mention it at the time.
However, the top of her foot continued to hurt like blazes.
Eventually, Julie went to see a doctor, who referred her to the hospital for an x-ray. This, thankfully, turned up no broken bones, although there had been some fluid created as a result of the accident. This would apparently subside in a few more days. This was a relief, as we really didn't fancy Julie being signed off and not getting any pay. We can't afford that right now.

Julie and myself were talking about the accident, and I was asking some questions; Was it reported? (there isn't anyone around at the weekends to report to.) Was it recorded in the accident book? (see previous parentheses) Have you spoken to a team leader since the weekend? (well... no)
Gah.
It was about this point that I went on a little rant about how they should be issued and wearing protective footwear - what we in the business know as "toe-'tectors". I also hectored Julie about needing to tell someone about it as soon as possible; if nothing else, if it turned out there was something seriously wrong, then her employers would know why and how. Julie has a tendency, when I begin one of my little tirades, of letting me run my course and then saying something like, "well, we'll see." Which is quite aggravating.

In any event, Julie told her supervisor the next day. She was told that Occupational Health* would need to get in touch with her and go over the incident with her. However, there was an obvious problem or two. You see, Julie only works an early evening shift, one which has very little overlap with office staff. Not only that, but the day after Julie's chat with her supervisor, she was due to take a couple of days off. Just when were OH supposed to be getting hold of Julie?

If that wasn't enough, after I had written this Gem down, Julie dug herself in even further...

[Even better, Julie just came back from work as I was typing this out. Naturally curious as to what I may have been slandering her for (just kidding, it's all true), she had a glance and wanted to know the Gem involved. I read out what I had copied down and she stood there for a moment and then said,

"Well, that makes sense, doesn't it?"

Yes, dear.]

*Occupational Health is one of those departments within a company that has arisen as a direct result of the culture of litigation that has become prevalent in much of the western world these days. Essentially, they exist to give the company a reason to avoid paying out any money to an injured party. To this end, OH will ask you so many questions that you get fed up of it all and decide it's less hassle to go back to work.

Water fool!

The climate is changing, everyone knows this. If nothing else, the tabloids love to scream about it in blind panic. To them, and others who react this way, I bring you this newsflash (normal people - put your sunglasses on now)

The climate is always changing, and it always has. If you want a stable climate, seal yourself up in a bloody crypt. In fact, that's not a bad idea. Why not do it anyway and increase the global intelligence average by a good few points. Sheesh.

Sorry about that. The reason for this little rant is that, as you may know, it's been a rather dry few months in Britain. Unfortunately, the lack of rain or snow this winter has left our reservoirs more than a tad low, so the various water companies around the country are taking steps to make sure our supplies don't trickle to a complete halt. To this end, some companies are contemplating a hosepipe ban, and one or two have already put it into effect. All this means is that you can't use a hose to clean you car (or anything else), or to water the garden  - and yes, that does include attaching the damn thing to a lawn sprinkler.

"Ooooh - I didn't think that counted!"
>SLAP!<

For those of you who think that a hosepipe ban is equivalent to the fall of civilisation, may I introduce to you a handy couple of items.

Now, this is a bucket and a wat - OMG IS THAT A HEDGEHOG?? SQUEEEEE!!!!

We use watering cans at our house. One for watering the plants outside, one for killing the weeds and moss on the paths outside and a small one inside the house for the pot-plants.* Mind you, we're not going to be doing much in the back garden this year. After last year's attempts to try various things were repeatedly fouled up by the neighbourhood cats habit of.. well, fouling things up, a certain ennui has set in. All I'm intending to plant this year is a bed of potatoes, a couple of pea plants - oh, and some landmines, especially for the moggies.
All this, of course, simply leads up to this conversation between Julie and myself.

Oh dear. It turns out Julie thought the ban also included watering cans and any other means of hydrating your hydrangeas.

----------------------------------------------------------

*Not THAT sort of 'pot' plants!
By the way, a hosepipe ban doesn't affect businesses or charities where large amounts of water are essential for their activities. Such as car washes. Because you simply cannot make do with a mucky Mazda, can you?  <sigh>

Bonus post: Mitt Romney and the bland beliefs.

Don't ye just LOVE politics? Corruption and lies all the way.
The big thing, though is the speech. The speech that every politician gives when he's in dire need of some support from the likes of you and me. Once upon a time, they would write the speech themselves and what we would hear could be entertaining, boring, passionate, limpid, brief or epically huge and bombastic.
Not these days. Now, any politician with a little money prefers to rent somebody else's wordsmithing skills. Not only that, but they will also then often employ a proof reader to check for any errors or inappropriate content.

Enter Mitt Romney.
Mitt is the current man of the moment for the USA Republican Party. Should the party, in this latest presidential campaign, garner the most votes, then he will be the man in the Oval Office.
Oh bloody hell.
My apologies to any members or supporters of that political party, but the man is a brain-dead, charisma-free nincompoop.
Why? Well, let me show you. Bearing in mind all I just said about speeches and hiring writers to jot things down for them. take a look at this particular Gem.

See that section I highlighted? Isn't it beautiful? I mean, if you want to hear a perfect example of trying to say so little with so many words, then you don't really need to look any further than this chuffing pillock.
I'm sorry, America, but I can't honestly believe you have already forgotten the chimpanzee known as George 'Dubya' Bush, the guy you had before Obama.
For more on this you can read Mark Steyn's article.

Excuse me, I need to go rescue my brain...

Exfoliating fish fatalities

Some months ago, one of 'those' shops appeared in our shopping centre. You know the type. It's some new health fad and you know it's only going to be a short time before it disappears as swiftly as it arrived.
Sure enough, less than three months later, it was closed up, looking for all the world as though it fully intended to re-open once more tomorrow. We knew better. Another three months on, and guess what? Still nothing. I know vanity (along with a need for coffee, apparently) will be one of the last things to go - witness all the hair salons and (why, fer gods' sakes, why?) nail bars. However, a salon sole-ly (ahem) for the purpose of dunking your feet in so some fish with an apparent foot-fetish?

"Just when you thought it was safe to back into the water;
have you seen what they bloody charge for this crap?"

You may have gathered I'm not a huge fan of all these pampering things. I look at people forking over money to stick their manky feet in a tub of garra rufa and think to myself, "Why don't you just have a bath at home and clean your own feet, you lazy bastards?" A nail bar, I can just about understand - if you don't have the expertise, then your nails will look like crap. It's still vanity, but there you go. With the fish/foot fetish thing, absolutely nothing extra is offered. Everybody has the wherewithal to be able to wash their feet (OK, not literally, but then those unfortunates tend to have carers. I doubt they whisk their charges off to an aquarium for perverts).
Pardon me for a minute, I'm going to briefly morph into a Daily Mail reader - "More money than bloody sense, these people! No wonder the world is in financial crisis!"
Sorry about that, folks, I just had to get it out of my system. Julie, by the way, isn't too keen on the fish thing either...

Ew. Fair enough, but.. ew.