I say Pat, get her some of them knickers to sucker her in!

OK, well I have some momentum now for blogging. I still need to tell you all about my party but as yet I am still waiting for the piccys. I love a good party and of course December is the month for them, endless Christmas do's, generally requiring a new frock.

I am no different, every year I like to buy a new frock, but this year I seem to have a few occasions to attend that may require more than one frock. As my beau  is quite lovely,  he told me to go and buy a new frock. So indeed I thought why not? A friend recommended this dress shop which she described as "really lovely dresses but a bit pricey". She also instructed me that I might fail to see the shop as from the outside it looked a bit like a jumble. On arrival she was correct on two counts. 1. exceptionally expensive and 2. Very much like a jumble. There were an array of dresses, short ones, prom, cocktail evening different colours a variety of sequins and swish. Anyone would of thought it was the dressing room of Strictly Come Dancing.

I caught the attention of an assistant and remarked I was looking for a fancy frock. Then it started. Suddenly I started to get Goked but Goked in a way that can only be described as hilarious. As a variety of frocks were thrusted in my direction with comments such as " you won't know until you try it" I thought I jolly well will. If I put that on I will look more Russell Grant than Flavia. I indulged and put it on and yes  I wasn't like Mr Grant but I did look like a giant condom that had been rhinestoned. (You know I goggled for an image and you can actually get a frock made completely of condoms. Well I suppose it saves running to the gents with a quid).

The assistants were quite amusing and bickered in a way that showed genuine affection for each other. However it got worse as my Gok kept producing frocks that aged me 10 years. Her colleague shouted through the shop "Pat stop putting her in dresses that are horrible". Pat wasn't taking that lying down, "They are lovely dresses". Then the best moment of my  life occurred like a great epiphany. "PAT   YOU ARE BLOODY 60 OF COURSE YOU THINK THEY ARE LOVELY. THIS YOUNG GIRL IS ONLY IN HER 30'S"     

In that moment I couldn't of been happier, 30's you say. Oh yes that's right I am in my 30's. Well if you don't tell them readers neither will I. Lately I have felt old and that couldn't of come at a better time. OK so they all wore glasses but in my world they have 20:20 vision.

I would like to say that the moment of nirvana continued until I finally bough a frock; but lo and behold it didn't. As I stood there in the middle of the shop looking at a full length mirror trussed in a frock it echoed round the shop "I say Pat, get her some of them knickers to sucker her in!"    I am well aware that it comes to us all and indeed, I too have had to sport underwear that distorts one's shape but you do it in a light, subtle, support way. These things one had to pull over ones tights; well the toss up was either a hump or a goitre. (lump back, lump throat!). How can this be comfortable? You may look amazing but at some point they are going to roll down and out springs your hump! Can you imagine having dinner all made up in your sexy frock then suddenly as you gaze into each others eyes, you look down and you discover you have a third breast? I mean I know Scaramanga had 3 nipples but I don't believe he took that notion further. That will probably be because he saw the perils of surgical knickers that look like they have been sprayed on. 

That's them to the right. They don't use Bubbles DeVere  (left) lookie Likie to advertise them. Instead they get a finely toned chicklet to shoe horn her self into them. I bet the models don't have to roll around on the floor like an upturned turtle in child birth to remove them.





I eventually bought two beautiful frocks that didn't require such atrocities. I am ashamed to say that I succumbed to the beauty industry or possibly Pat telling me I need them and purchased the suckering knickers. Sunday I wore one of my lovely dresses for a lunch date. I had to make a big effort it was the first time I was meeting the beau's mother. I went without the knickers because I was concerned going blue was possibly not a good first impression when meeting the beau's mother. I settled for big knickers without the elastic band sensation and apparently  I looked lovely. Perfectly girlie and the dress made my boobs look lovely. (remember readers I queued up twice in god's organ queue to get these).

I have no doubt there will be a moment when I am huffing and puffing on the bedroom floor with the bum tourniquet, but for now I will stick with breathing in. Its all about the things I wrote about in my inner goddess blog. I haven't lost sight of her and well I do inner goddess quite well. I hope my beau's mother liked me. I am not sure the comment "You are well suited, she is a strong woman" is a positive one. It could be she sees me as an international shot putter from the North.

Lets hear it for the girls!

So as you can see readers I am behind in my blogging so I have to get a wriggle on. I had a fab girlie weekend that I didn't even have the time to tell you about. Its been a long time since I had a purely indulgent girls weekend. So my pal arrived one Friday morning for a weekend of activities.

The idea of indulgent for me always starts with beauty treatments. I really think at times that  I would like to be a lady that lunches, but if honest I don't think I have the decorum to carry it off. The Grand Hotel in Jersey is a fabulous place to be a lady that lunches. I booked a couples suite for our facial and manicure as I thought we could natter through the process. Natter we did but for some reason we kept incessantly giggling. This was fuelled by the fact that we hadn't removed our bras for the facial, so for privacy the therapists left us whilst we sorted ourselves out. Now I have to say that when god was giving out kidneys we must of still be in the boob queue and then queued again because we are blessed. Trying to discreetly put two boulder holders somewhere became a challenge. This made us childishly giggle as we slung with abandonment them on the back of the door sort of  boudoiresque. We should of had the foresight to leave them in our lockers. The lack of spa etiquette didn't cease there.

As you can see from the beautiful interior of the spa, there are these divine curtains. I believe they are designed to enhance relaxation by compartmentalising pods off. Others lounging  appreciated the intention of the design and relaxed back, no doubt listening to lapping water in their heads. We saw the purpose of the curtains to keep opening and closing to peep at each other and chat. It was time for us to get our coats. 

Part of the manicure experience was the gift of the nail polish that had been used. I unfortunately had absent minded left mine in my dressing gown pocket, so I had to go and retrieve it from the wash basket as I had tided up like a good patron should. It was a tad embarrassing to be found by an elderly lady who clearly spoke with a plum in her mouth. As she stumbled upon me with my feet dangling, rummaging in what only looked liked a bin "What on earth are you doing?"  "Err looking for something" I wish I had the hindsight to comment that I had lost a rather expensive diamond ring heirloom, but alas I didn't.

Oh well afternoon tea was next, which couldn't possibly get us into trouble.

The weekend was spent drinking vast amounts of Kir Royal, dancing until you thought someone else had swapped your feet with another and lots of decadent eating. I hoped I showed her the best of Jersey and she will indeed return again. Unfortunately I don't think I will be able to arrange Boy George DJing again but I do know I will be able to repeat  slinging my bra round my head  whilst doing a bin dive. Interestingly enough when we went to see Boy George DJ, it proved endless amusement when obvious 80's revival types were sadly disappointed that he hadn't done Karma Chameleon. Ohhh I have set off laughing at that again.

A good time was had by all and it will be a while before I get another visitor, rotten beggars only want to come in Summer now.

Me plus one!

Oh my god! Its nearly 3 weeks since I blogged. I have been exceptionally busy with work. ATLS and the pending APLS will do that for you. Courses seem so much harder to organise these days, I think that's possibly due to the fact I have gone from a team of 6 to a team of 1. All hands to the deck is a great expression for pre course setting up.

However I am no longer a team of one but a team of two. Its not big but its company. Working within resuscitation can be a bit lonely. Its not like a busy emergency department shift that even when its swinging from the rafters you still have someone to turn to and say "Am I doing O.K?" . I think we all need that voice of reassurance irrespective of how experienced we are.

So my little team is great. The thing about employing someone in a small team you are never sure of what you might get and a team of two must really get on as there is no where to hide. Personalities are a must and I know I am slightly odd but really believe in what I do.

Since being in post I have only been a phone call away from my professional pals who fortunately maintained a pseudo foster child relationship; reassuring me that all is well and I was on the right track. Even though my new member of staff is new to the world of resuscitation, she is keen as mustard. Skills can be taught.The thing that can't be leaned is the personality of an individual and how it might gel with another.

Since she arrived I have never laughed so much in ages, Our humour is some what similar. The best part is the fact that there is this deep honesty between us. There  is the ability to just express when something isn't right. I have missed that. Yes she did call my time sheet system ludicrous, but she was forgiven. She was indeed right it was ludicrous and required to be abandoned.

It's Movember, so this Resus Girlz has a tash!

We were teased slightly as we paraded round the hospital with bright red A4 diaries. I don't care I felt proud. There was a reference to us being the Resus Girlz, indeed spelt with a Z; for as they said it, they did a Zorroesque Z movement with their index finger. I can't comment it amused us both that a simultaneous thumbs up with a cheesy grin could be the new resus sign. I have no idea why that amused me for such a long time, but in truth it did.

So on occasion I have felt a wee bit lost in the world of resuscitation and have missed that sense of belonging. Being just a team of two takes me back to when my previous boss picked me for her little  team of two. Working that close at times gave the impression that we had metamorphosed into one person. Which was clearly apparent during a meeting when we crossed our arms and in unison said "We do that though, don't we though". I kid you not. Its not even proper English but we did say it at exactly the same time.

I hope that I can give all the opportunities to my fellow team member that my boss gave to me. Without her I wouldn't of found myself managing my own service. So for that I will be eternally grateful. Anyway I have another blog to write as I have been slack with my literary musings.

Did you tell them 30:2? Of course I did. Good because they only have 5 years to learn it before it changes!

  

I want to tread the boards you Dirty Birdy you!

I have my peppermint tea and I am ready to blog. Last night I went to the Jersey Arts Centre for the first time. Its ridiculous I have been here over a year and not been. The occasion was a night out with my pal to see a theatre production of The Full Monty. She omitted to tell me it was a musical version with American accents, but front row seat are front row seats, one shouldn't grumble at that.

The thing about amateur dramatics it could go either way. I have seen many productions some that make your toes curl in a blackboard scratching way. The Full Monty is a pretty decent story layered with amusement and if its really that bad you get to see boys bums. I see a silver lining in everything.

At times I was generally tittering at the wrong reasons like when they failed to maintain the American accent and became an Australian. The lead was cute and he gave it his all he even maintained the American accent whilst singing. It was jolly good entertainment. There was a lovely boy who thought "sod it I am not going to attempt an American accent" . He could be forgiven because he was Irish and I am a sucker for them. All in all I enjoyed it. A different night out than usual.

It did get me thinking though. Ooooh I think I would like to do that. Not strip with a security guards hat whilst singing in a half New Yorker/Texan accent; but have a bash at Amdram. I have always felt a bit theatrical and generally my talent has been showcased through the medium of teaching medical courses. I have played the doctor giving bad news, the relative, a midwife and a variety of other medical roles. I think I pushed a baby out from between my knees once. Oh my god I got a flash back then.

When human patient simulation became the order of the day, I assisted with becoming the female voice for the manikin. In particular the obstetric scenarios. It took me about 10 takes in a room on my own talking into some recording device. I was asked to be someone bleeding to death whilst saying I felt sick. Apparently I sounded more 'Debbie does Dallas' than Matilda the young girl with the post partum heamorrhage. That recording would return to haunt me one day.

I had to return to the amdram of medical matters and pretend to fit for the eclamptic lady. I think those boys who run them simulators popped a blonde Dolly Parton wig on the manikin on purpose. For continuity I had to wear the wig, clipped on. I looked like a bloke who was playing the part of Drag Queen Dolly. Every time I set off fitting, my wig slipped down my face a la wonk! Following securing the offending item, I set off fitting again, then it was a rap. Apparently I do a good fit. Then it happened the Debbie does Dallas recording was played. I recognised my panting. However some bugger had dubbed it with periodic words such as harder or faster. I could cope with that to a degree then the grand finale was the recording of a horse neighing and me saying thank you. Those simulation boys are rather meddlesome.

Thinking back even my acting debuts outside of the medical world sort of always landed in disaster. I had to play some aunt in Arabian Knights pantaloons. As I outstretched my arms to shout "Anook come here" my trews fell down to reveal my knickers that said Tuesday. I  had to be rescued as the teacher felt with so much material in the pantaloons I might fall over if I set off at a trot. Standing there in front of a hall of sniggering I waited until my teacher refastened my Scarab beetle clasp on my trews and returned back stage. Secondary school acting was about selecting children that was easy on the eye. My home done tight perm was apparently a bit distracting so I became the narrator for plays as apparently my voice had great expression.

I do adore acting and Julie Walters started out as a nurse. I can't think of a better role model than that. I was asked recently who would play me in a film. I really wanted to say Kate Beckinsale but I think she might be a tad taller than me! I picked Kathy Bates  casted as Annie Wilkes.in Misery. I wouldn't have her for all the sections of my life. However I thought being able to say "You Dirty Bird" tickled me no end. However my most favourite interpretation of Annie Wiles is the below featured French and Saunders. I just watched it and its still as hilarious.

      

Maybe I would be much better suited to comedy Who knows but I think I am going to have a wee peek at the world of amdram in Jersey. I will keep you posted.