Resting

Well weekend is here and all I can think of is doing nothing. I am absolutely shattered; course directing ALS will do that to you. Can't grumble though, everyone passed. I have been an ALS instructor for as long as I can remember and I actually still love it. My favourite bit is teaching with lots of different people and my faculty are just great.
This course was quite special for me as the medical director was someone I have sat next to for a great many years in the faculty room. It was a nice piece of home and again I didn't miss the north too much as  it was nice to have a bit of my old employment within my new. Not that I am saying he is old, (smiles). Jersey faculty are exceptionally brilliant and it was great to have some of my long suffering ALS pals teaching with them. The faculty dinner was my usual of telling jokes with actions and ridiculous stories.

One of the guys that came to help teach, I have known quite a long time and my lasting memory of him is at a wine tasting event in Budapest. We managed to charm bottles rather than the odd glass from those wanting us to taste their wares. It was hilarious fun, discounting missing the vehicular and walking through Budapest with an increasing heart rate; only to be diagnosed the following week as having ventricular tachycardia. For those not in the know with such medical matters, that equates to a life threatening rhythm that can finish you off! I am all fixed now fortunately.
I may of never got to writing this blog had I indeed passed out at the top of St Stephen's basilica in Budapest following being told "come on use the steps its healthier" by my then boss. She  is one for expanding your lungs. She was forgiven as she saved me one day by a good old precordial whack in our little resus portacabin. Oh the memories!

I wanted to take him somewhere lovely to appreciate how fab Jersey is, so the Oyster Box it was. Wow what a place that is with beautiful views and exquisite food. Anywhere that serves a cucumber martini has to be fabulous.

We started out all sophisticated with champagne and ending in brandies you need to sell a kidney for but as the evening progressed my pal and I got giddy. I forgot to mention my beau was also in attendance. As he meets all of my pals he gets more of an insight into me. I know I should be all demure but in the company of friends I just get more giddy and have ridiculous conversations. This was no exception.

I wanted to know more about a gay networking site. I won't mention the name but in essence it flashes up how close a possible date is. So we decided to download it during dinner. We were laughing and looking at pictures and shrieking oooh look he is only 0.7 miles away but he looks amusing. We weren't up to anything but I was too interested in the fascination of it. It was like chat roulette ( see previous post) but better. I became acutely aware I had gone into a bubble chatting to my pal and on turning round to include beau in the conversation, he remarked oh you can't get it on a blackberry. He had been trying to have a look at the application, (laughs). That's the thing he just fits and can adapt to all his surroundings. That's why he is so great. He isn't in the medical profession as most of my friends are. He can however engage in a good conversation, that doesn't require any effort.

Its been 2 months of dating and as he fits so well with my pals we are having a party. Today was about meeting with my pal's husband who is a professional Japanese cuisine chef that caters for private events. I have no idea why I was so nervous of them meeting my beau, but I was and went into school girl mode. I couldn't stop giggling and going bright red. When asked had I thought through what I wanted for the party, how the house would be laid out, how many guests and what food did I want I just answered with a giggling "don't know". I think I was so nervous because its a sort of an official together thing with sophisticated private catering. At least my virtual noose has slipped and I now seem a bit more comfortable in the "together" bit   I just need to get over going bright red and being all coy.

I have invited about 30 guests and I know it will be fun. I have no doubt there will pictures on my blog following it. The authentic professional chef is even making vegetarian sushi for me, which means I won't have to sit in the corner with a cheese sandwich. I think he is doing that because I had a dream I was grating cheese all over the place in his professional kitchen and he threw me out. I am sure he wouldn't want me under his feet in my kitchen as he prepares the sashimi whilst I fling Red Leicester everywhere. He is sweet natured but even the mild mannered would have issue with me asking where the branston was, whilst they were preparing the sea bass. So vegetarian sushi it is then. 

I return to the UK next week to re- validate my newborn instructor status, so hopefully I will catch up with some of you. So ta-ta for now. 

Ahhhhhh Grasshopper

Well the weekend started  with yet again being  a bit arduous. It seems limitless at the moment, but my evening was spent in the Jersey Opera house watching Nerina Pallot. Below is both inside and outside of the Opera house. Its  a rather grand building and the acoustics are amazing.

Generally the support act can be a bit pants. For example, imagine my surprise when Bobby Davro was Barry Manilow's support act. A big act like that with ruddy Bobby Davro. However Nerina had the most gorgeous unassuming girl with the greatest talent called Frankie Davies. She is most definitely one to watch and her voice was quite lovely.

  

Of course I can't go anywhere without incident, whilst enjoying the dulcet tones of Nerina I was conscious of whispering behind me and people shifting their seats. I became acutely nervous when someone was heard to say someone should tell her. TELL HER WHAT?? 

I was accompanied by the chap I am dating, they whispered something to him. God and I thought I had de-moosed myself, fortunately they weren't whispering God are you doing charity work bringing the moose out? I had a ruddy great big grasshopper on my head and that's what had frightened my fellow theatre goers off. One guy had moved 3 rows behind I kid you not! I am not sure of the capacity of the opera house but I can tell you there was more than flamin me there. Why did it have to sit on my head? Maybe it heard I had developed a Snow White complex and it wanted to come live with the rest of David Attenborough's groupies. (You need to be a serial blog reader to get this reference). After my significant other (god did I say that, noose,noose) rescued me from the creature  Mr  3 rows back cowardy pants returned to his seat and order was restored.

I could of had so much to write if I had accepted the invite I had for Saturday, but I was otherwise engaged. I am repeatedly nipping myself for turning down the Jersey mens water polo team competing in the islands dragon boat race. I know girls stone me, how could I turn such a thing down. Sadly the chap that is the water polo sportsman who  invited me; his team came second. Apparently they were robbed I can believe that because this chap is just lovely and genuine. In fact the department he works for were from the offset very supportive to me both professionally and personally. Equally important is none of them have had a sense of humour bypass. They are fun and fab at what they do.

I wanted one of this gang to come play out with me to support his colleague but he remarked he couldn't for fear of getting swamped by people wanting Rod's autograph. Cheeky sod This was born out of the fact I needed a haircut and had started to look like Rod Stewart . This coming from a guy who swears he heard a pterodactyl in his flat, not a cat or a dog or even a trapped bird in the attic but a dinosaur with a 40 foot wing span that lived 6000 years ago. I think being seen with Rod Stewart is the least of his problems (winks as I know he is reading this). Fortunately the third musketeer that makes up the group who is a fab chickadee can keep dino man in check. 

When work is tough I often find myself sat in their corner, sometimes its just for comfort. In the same way I used to go sit in the medical engineers workshop in my previous post. Everyone needs a sanctuary.  

Sunday was a staying in affair as I decided it was appropriate to give Jersey a rest from my antics. 

Well its already Tuesday and so far its not too bad. Looking forward to tomorrow, when some old colleagues, not ancient ones but those from my previous job, fly out to teach for me. I know it will be a hoot!

Right I am rambling so I will leave you with the dulcet tones of Nerina Pallot. I always feel quite happy when I watch this, enjoy!

If you could be anything....what would it be?



My eyes are up here!

When I was very small I wanted to be Wonder Woman. As a child I didn't realise that Wonder Woman was hot. I just thought she had a nice sparkly top and I was mesmerised by her lasso of truth. Looking at her now she was indeed very hot, and if I am honest if I could be her now and get away with it I  surely would. I don't think I am in Linda Carter's league (the woman that played her), after all she was once Miss World USA. The only thing I have ever won in my life was a tin of corned beef at the church tombola. However not to be disheartened as a child I thought I could take on her persona. So I made a hairband out of paper and drew a star on it and stuck it to my head with sellotape. The lasso of truth was fashioned from a dirty bit of rope I found up the black path. Endlessly I would spin in my front garden trying to lasso unsuspecting passing people. Well that was until my parents felt I needed to be kept inside for fear the neighbours may think they had a "simple child". I loved my moments as Wonder Woman. or as the other children called me "meatball with the dirty rope". (With a surname as Campbell there is no escaping the term meatball. Even my A level sociology teacher called me Miss Meatball 1970 (birth year) for 2 years).

As I started to grow older I then became obsessed with Quincy and Columbo. I thought oh I know I can do something like that when I grow up. It was pointed out to me that Quincy cut people up and policeman generally aren't like Columbo. Possibly a good idea I changed my mind. Although I always wanted to be a nurse, secretly I also wanted to be some form of detective. So I took my A levels to embark on being a barrister. I never got there, here I am a nurse and glad of it. All those detective programmes stand nurses in good stead. "So you haven't taken any drugs have you" " Really someone spiked your chips with temazepan" "Get away, you fell on the ketchup bottle".

Today has been a rougher day than yesterday and I find myself asking "Could I do this forever?" and "Are there any requirements for ageing, chubby wonder women?" I do love what I do and if I was ever passionate about anything resuscitation is it. However do I want to be running to cardiac arrests when I am 65 years old. So if I could be anything, what would it be?

For most girls they find themselves tending to children and grandchildren; being involved in their lives. I don't mean exclusively as my friends who are mummys are off to torment Palma tomorrow and I can't imagine they will be all "mummy like".  I decided not to embark on being a mummy, who knows in times to come maybe I did miss out, but I am content with my decision.

My other love besides Columbo is books, for which I have many. Lots of friends have Kindles and I can see the appeal of just taking that on your jollies rather than lugging 5 books. After all, these days you have to sell a kidney to meet the excess baggage fees.

Me, I am not that taken by them. I like the smell of books, the feel of them as you turn each page. The recent addition to my collection is quite old and smells of moth balls and the pages are increasingly worn but it doesn't matter for the title is worth the fusty odour " The book of Laughter". With little gems in it like "How to remove a jersey without disturbing the waistcoat" just tickle me no end. Right where am I going with this? Oh yes what I want to be. Well I would love to own a bookshop and have the aroma of coffee and cupcakes displayed, all encased in a very vintage looking shop. If I am honest I don't rightly care if no one bought anything as long as they loved thumbing through the pages like me. Anyway to buy some cup cakes these days you have to remortgage your house. I could live off the proceeds of them. I am taken by the idea of wearing flowery frocks, wearing butterflies in my hair and adorning red lipstick whilst looking for some odd book.

The health care environment is worthwhile but I think a bookshop would reflect the real me. I doubt it will ever happen and have no doubt the pages I thumb as I age will belong to the latest green paper but a dream is something that comforts me.

Now where is that dirty old rope I have some spinning to do?

I had to edit the post and add that I played the above tune so many times it made me want to spin round in my lounge. I bet wonder woman never fell out her flip flops and banged her head on the dining table! 

Yes we have no Bananas

Well as usual I have had an extraordinary weekend. A girlie in my directorate said yesterday "Irene how do you get yourself into such things" For those that know me they know I "get into many things". I can't help it I just adore difference, my friends will say that translates to I adore odd bods. Maybe I do but isn't that just fun.

I am still dating and its going swimmingly. He met some more of my pals on Friday night. The verdict "he is really lovely" One shouldn't seek approval from one's peer group but every little bit helps. I dated a guy once who was an economics student. He was uber clever and with hindsight we had nothing in common. It didn't help that my friends nicknamed him beer bottle; possibly because he was always pissed. I thought students had to be pissed. I dated him for a few months. I had many a deep meaningful conversation with him, with hindsight I think it was all a load of bollocks. I was 19 what was I to know. Maybe I should of listened to my friends echo "beer bottle".

Rugby world cup is here and I love a bit of rugby. Granted it started out from drooling rather than skill. When I started as a junior staff nurse in ED in Preston, I seemed to just date rugby players. My first had a Dennis the Menace tattoo on his arse. I thought this reflected individuality. It didn't it just signified public school boy nonsense. That lasted a whole month. The termination of that was due to a contraceptive issue! One dark night, he had been responsible and brought his own condom. However he forgot to inform me it was a glow in the dark one. I felt like I was oh la-la-ing  Luke Skywalker every time he changed position he wafted past me like a light sabre. Not one to miss an opportunity for amusement I started doing the light sabre noise. He wasn't amused, so within the week we parted company.

Yet again I digress, I was leading to the fact that I was in the pub with a pal watching England at 930. They played rubbish but at least we won which is a start. My pal for rugby company  bogs off to New Zealand to watch the rest of the games tomorrow. How posh is that? I will have to find a new sporty playmate. The gentleman I met Sunday night I think would be game!

So Sunday! Dinner overlooking Bonne Nuit harbour, where my very first date was with my beau. Fortunately it was him that I was with. After dinner a scoot round a few of the bays was really lovely. Bouley Bay and Rozel were the order of the evening. I have been here over a year and I had never been. Problem with visiting such places I always find myself wanting to move nearer the sea. If it was possible I would have a house on stilts in the middle of the sea. The beauty for me isn't in the view so much but its the noise. I love the sound of crashing waves, its relaxing. The sea at night is even more beautiful. The final leg of the adventure terminated in a quaint pub where I met the most jolliest of fellows. I knew he would be value for money when he danced around the bar shouting "yes I have no bananas". He was exceptionally posh and and a tad inebriated. With him following me to the juke box shouting "you ain't seen anything yet honey bunch"; I knew the night could only get better. For those that remember the Fast Show, they may recall Rowley Birkin QC. This chap was like that but upright. For those that have no clue what I am on about I have included a video.

He was quite fun and half the time I had no clue what he was talking about, except he kept calling me darling. His finest moment was when his chosen song played on the jukebox. He twirled, dipped and danced with me to Fly Me to the Moon. I love that song as it is the epitome of old time glamour and despite being quite drunk he was light on his feet and quite the mover. I quite liked being danced in the pub to such an old time classic. I did make a sharp exit though after he dragged me back up by the hand shouting "darling I haven't finished with you yet" Frank Sinatra' "That's Life" had started to play. I don't think I could of coped with a constant twirling. So we bid our good nights and I departed for home. Weekends here seem to be filled with fun, so what more can any one ask. I am reminding myself of this fact as today has been quite a  hard traumatic day. One where I find myself missing my old place of work. So I am gritting my teeth and wishing for Friday. Who knows readers I might have more stories to tell. As I told my pal yesterday "I just get in to things". I am glad I do, its what keeps me sane when things are crashing round me. So perhaps I will return to Rozel and ask my latest dance partner if he wants to be my new rugby friend. Maybe whilst the All Blacks do their Haka, we can do "Yes we have no Bananas". 

Oh I forgot to mention. I met my beau's sister on Sunday. It was quite charming, meeting. I wore a pretty frock, had straightened hair and make up on. Its official the moose has left the hoose.

There is a moose loose about this hoose!

Well here I am back in Jersey after a few days back in England. I only cried a little bit returning home. Its the first time I didn't feel I wanted to move back. It was a flying visit so if I didn't get to catch up with you, maybe I will see you in a couple of weeks when I return to teach at Preston.
I am back quite a bit over the next few weeks, here is hoping I don't get home sick again and am cured. It rained all the time. I find that comforting, something about a wet north makes me nostalgic. Silly really.

Staying at the Marriott proved interesting. I think they may of thought I was a high class hooker. Having coffee with 3 different men on a rota system. As one left another entered (no guffawing if you please). All three have a piece of my heart, friendship, old love and new etchings. It was quite the day!

Anyway I am back now and returned to some sort  of normality. Have I told you jersey is an exceptionally small place. You can't do nothing without being spotted. Once spotted the whole world know about it. There is a saying that one should always have clean pants on and not your greying Bridget Jones ones, for chance you are knocked over. I know this as when the Irish transvestite knocked me over in Dublin, first thing I thought was "bugger am I matching". I was on my holidays so fortunately I had my best holiday underwear on.



£1.10 to the hospital please

 There is a point to this. When you date someone new everyone you meet who knows them; well you have to project a aren't I fab and gorgeous image, but this is Jersey, you are likely to be spotted not looking so gorgeous. This morning a woman clouted me by accident on the bus with her handbag. It was apparently new beau's sister! She was uber glamorous and more concerning I looked like a moose. No makeup, wet hair and rocking to my ipod. Whats worse she has never met me and texted beau asking if it was me. This concerns me; has he told his family and friends I am dating this girl; terrific personality but she looks like a moose. If he didn't how on earth did she recognize me. She said I was cute. Maybe that was in a special way, I was rocking to my ipod after all. Now everyday I will have to wear full ruddy makeup with freshly straightened GHD hair. Its sooo not fair. Now I know what celebrities feel like. I mean who wants to feature in heat magazines crap spot. This morning I had my moment of shame. Not anymore because every day I am going to  be fabulous darling.