It was the night before Christmas

Well its nearly here readers, Christmas day. All that preparation, wrapping, shopping and tearing your hair out will be worth it. I know that to be true because my last weekend proved it.

As an early Christmas present my beau paid for me to return to Manchester for a girlie shopping and dining experience. However getting there was very much like a scene from Planes, Trains and Automobiles.

Me: What's the flight situation?
Man: Simple. There's no way on earth we're going to get out of here tonight. We'd have more luck playing pickup sticks with our butt-cheeks than we will getting a flight out of here before daybreak. 

Me: I guess we'll find out soon enough.
Man: Yeah, but by the time the airline cancels this flight, which they will sooner or later, you'd have more of a chance to find a three-legged ballerina than you would a hotel room.
Me: Are you saying I could be *stuck* in Jersey?
Man: I'm saying you *are* stuck in Jersey 

OK,OK that's Neal and Del in Wichita, but you get my point? Manchester airport closed due to snow and I was stuck in Jersey. I was determined to get there, Manchester Christmas markets, dinner at Room and staying at The Midland and of course seeing my pals was not to be missed.

I was offered to share a charter with some random chap, I politely declined as it felt too Pretty Woman  ( I kid you not) and to share a car with two delightful ladies from Gatwick. However lugging my suitcase affectionately nicknamed the "beast" from a chap on the train I set out on my adventure.

One flight to Gatwick

One train to Victoria

One tube to Euston

One train to Manchester

One cab to hotel

Several hours later I was raiding the mini bar.It was thoroughly enjoyable weekend with shopping in Selfridges and eating at Room. If you have never eaten there think Willie Wonka meets Heston Blumenthal ; hang on is that not the same person?

Well I am safely back and just roasted my Christmas Eve Ham. Christmas day will be a quiet affair with my beau and I will think of those I miss. In particular my little sister and my nephew. Boxing day will be very different this year for me as I will be spending it with my beau's children. A whole five days. Its quite a scary thought and sooooo grown up but children are what makes Christmas. Anyway I have bought a pinata to string from the skylight to knock hell out of if it all becomes too stressful. I fib its actually for the children , as Christmas is about fun. I think they may be a bit young to be forced to play trivial pursuits.

Well that's me folks and what a year. Its been a tumultuous year but I think things may be getting better. If I haven't seen you recently the new year will bring many visits and of course you are always welcome here. In fact I insist you visit. 

I am leaving you with this clip that always makes me feel joyful and I wish that you have a lovely day tomorrow. If there is someone you miss I am sure you are in their hearts. For those that are working I am sending you hope that it won't be too bad. I can't say the "Q" word as that will jinx you.

Happy Christmas readers and all the best for 2012.

You can't Stop the Music!

Last night was just one of the most fabulous nights. An evening at the Hotel de France having dinner in a posh frock with friends listening to Jamie Cullum.

I have always been a fan of old time glamour and well; this evening was certainly representative of that.
Although I am ready for telling that Pat I didn't need a ruddy pair of sucker in knickers (see previous blog) as my frock is toooo big. Its a very beautiful frock but prior to going out I had to get my beau to knot the straps just to keep my wares covered and despite the highest heels I still looked like someone had cut my feet off! Oh well my new Dior eyeshadow made up for it. I can have my dress re fitted thank gawd.

Anyway back to the matter in hand. Drinks reception started the champagne flowing and our very own Christian ensured we never ran dry. Its quite a small venue which just lent itself to feeling like Jamie was singing in your front room. Listening to him singing In the Bleak Midwinter ( my favourite carol) was just lovely.

All us girls twirled and danced in front of the stage. That was when we weren't being twirled by our pal fondly now known as Jazzy. Ruddy hell can he move! The beau isn't one for a twirl but is happy to let me order more champagne as I smile a toothy grin and say "Fanks". I am lucky to have him say "anything for you my darling" . (Ooohh I went all coy then).

Yooo Hooo...over here!



Dinner was scrummy too and the hotel was twinkly. That's us sat top right hand table. What do you mean you can't see us? Squint a bit!

Ahhhh there we are ta dah! My new resuscitation officer has many talents including managing a nifty 30:2. She can also make curly hair. She was kind enough to bouff me  last night before I went out.  So I am a bit curly in the piccy. The curls dropped in the excitement of the wonders of Jamie.
It was definitely a fun night. Our pal  won two VIP tickets to Springsteen and deservedly so as she had organised us all into going. If anyone should win a prize it was most certainly her.

Right well time for another peppermint tea, so I will leave you with a spot of Jamie.The song is Gran Torino and if you haven't seen the film, you should its fab. Have a great weekend readers!

POST NOTE: Our waiter wasn't a christian as in a biblical one. I wouldn't be so rude to ask his ecumenical persuasion. His name was Christian!!

Spandex, Tequila and the Pimp makes for a good party

I am supposed to be going to another work's Christmas do this evening but I am a tad poorly. As I write this I am drinking peppermint tea trying to make myself better. I am not sure if I will get there but operation recovery is under way. The theme this evening is Abba which is quite the contrast to my first Christmas party last week.

I gatecrashed at the last minute as the department whose do it was have been super lovely to me since I set foot on Jersey soil. I thought it might be fun and indeed it was. It was held in quite a small little restaurant which seemed to have an intimate ambiance that was until the waiters gave out the most ridiculous hats. Honestly how on earth does a Mexican hat compliment a rather sexy expensive party dress? Well not one to party poop I adorned the hat as looking to my left and seeing my pal looking like a cross between a pimp and a Caucasian huggy bear; I felt I had the better deal. All that was missing was a stick and a fur coat. I have always been a huge fan of Seinfeld and  in particular Kramer. Looking at my pal reminded me of this clip I thought I would share with you readers.

Anyhoo I digress, as the evening progressed and more tequila was slammed, the evening became amusing. Excluding the bit where the owner in tight gold spandex gyrated past with an elephant trunk strapped to his nethers. It was a touch Blackpool pier but tequila shots seem to make a blur and everything is apparently funny. Dancing and more shots carried me through to 1 AM, without the lubrication I think I might of gone all Victorian and thought " elephant trunk. how ghastly ! "  One of the party is a chap who is considerably younger than me and one who I have a soft spot for in an older sister kind of way. Seeing his excitement of wearing a rubber snake all evening round his neck just made me feel "awwww" He was happy so that made me happy too. Maybe it was that which made me happy or it could of been the waiters in tight pants who squirted alcohol in your mouth from what appeared to be a recycled toilet duck bottle. I must of been under the influence as I would of been quite snobby to indulge in such an exercise, but indulge I did!

For those that have known me for a very long time will recall the numerous post work Christmas do parties I used to have at my house. I like the post do party however I am not sure if spinning round and round in a circle on your tod to Candi Staton's You've got the love constitutes a party. Pimpy decided to invite people back for a post party but the poorly's left and I stayed having a memory lane trip of music I danced to like a nutter as a student nurse. He is easy going so let me indulge in repeatedly poking his iPad looking for memory music. Some tunes just evoke strong memories for me and one memory is  that song. Suddenly I am transported to being 19 dancing all over the floor of Manhattan Heights. God I loved those years of my life.

As my 19 year old self was once told "Renebell you most deffo have the love". So for those that remember those days I am dedicating this song to you. Yes Florence and the Machine I like but in essence she murdered it.

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.