Too little time, too little energy, too little to say.............
Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.
B. Terry Aspin (1916-2006)
B. Terry Aspin, who died recently, was a talented and prolific commercial artist and author. He drew for some of my favourite comics back in the late 50's and 60's, notably Bunty and Judy as well as doing artwork over many years for Model Railway magazine.
He also built his own model steam engines and wrote several books on modelling and foundry work and was well known for his belief in making every bit of his models from scratch. To the end of his life, he visited his local model railway club, of which he was a founder member and ran his own engine, although, latterly usually driven by someone else. In the photo, he is standing between the 2 engines, his own being the one on the right.
He also built his own model steam engines and wrote several books on modelling and foundry work and was well known for his belief in making every bit of his models from scratch. To the end of his life, he visited his local model railway club, of which he was a founder member and ran his own engine, although, latterly usually driven by someone else. In the photo, he is standing between the 2 engines, his own being the one on the right.
Today his engine was run in his honour and his ashes were buried at the club. The engine was run by Keith, his son.
R.I.P. Terry.
CBT or TV?
I have decided to take advantage of a forthcoming 10 course on CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy NOT Cake Baking Therapy as Keith would like it to be) which means I am going to be pretty busy this coming term.
"I may have to give up watching Emmerdale and Coronation Street," I said to Keith yesterday.
He beamed broadly.
"Every cloud has a silver lining!" he crowed.
"I may have to give up watching Emmerdale and Coronation Street," I said to Keith yesterday.
He beamed broadly.
"Every cloud has a silver lining!" he crowed.
Travelling to where?
This came to my inbox the other day, courtesy of C.M.
A young woman in Galway was so depressed that she decided to end her life by throwing herself into the Atlantic Ocean. She went down to the docks and was about to leap into the freezing water when a young sailor saw her tottering on the edge of the pier, crying. He took pity on her and said, "Look, you have so much to live for. I'm off to America in the morning, and if you like, I can stow you away on my ship. I'll take good care of you and bring you food every day."
Moving closer, he slipped his arm round her shoulder and added, "I'll keep you happy, and you'll keep me happy."
The girl nodded. After all, what did she have to lose? Perhaps a fresh start in America would give her life new meaning. That night, the sailor brought her aboard and hid her in a lifeboat. From then on, every night he brought her three sandwiches and a piece of fruit, and they made passionate love until dawn.
Two weeks later, during a routine inspection, she was discovered by the captain.
"What are you doing here?" the captain asked.
"I have an arrangement with one of the sailors," she explained. "I get food and a trip to America, and he's screwing me."
"He certainly is," the captain said. This is the Arran Islands Ferry.
A young woman in Galway was so depressed that she decided to end her life by throwing herself into the Atlantic Ocean. She went down to the docks and was about to leap into the freezing water when a young sailor saw her tottering on the edge of the pier, crying. He took pity on her and said, "Look, you have so much to live for. I'm off to America in the morning, and if you like, I can stow you away on my ship. I'll take good care of you and bring you food every day."
Moving closer, he slipped his arm round her shoulder and added, "I'll keep you happy, and you'll keep me happy."
The girl nodded. After all, what did she have to lose? Perhaps a fresh start in America would give her life new meaning. That night, the sailor brought her aboard and hid her in a lifeboat. From then on, every night he brought her three sandwiches and a piece of fruit, and they made passionate love until dawn.
Two weeks later, during a routine inspection, she was discovered by the captain.
"What are you doing here?" the captain asked.
"I have an arrangement with one of the sailors," she explained. "I get food and a trip to America, and he's screwing me."
"He certainly is," the captain said. This is the Arran Islands Ferry.
Pharmacies and surgeries
What is it about services related to the NHS? Why do their employees consistently display this appallling 'take it or leave it' attitude to their customers, patients or whatever term they care to use?
At our surgery, there is a half hour slot in the day for patients to ring up for prescription renewals. Tough luck if you are working and can't actually gain access to a phone at that time. If you need to make an appointment, well that's even more complicated. It is necessary to ring on the day you need the appointment for, so make sure you know in advance when you're going to need medical care. Mind you, you can get your prescription sent to the local chemist for you to pick up from there - eventually. Give it at least half a week.
On Wednesday I rang for a prescription renewal for some of Keith's dressings, pointing out that, last week, I had asked specifically for adhesive dressings, only to be given, yet again, wound pads. Eventually, with a couple of extra phone calls on my part to the district nurse, we established exactly which dressings were required and the prescription was sent to the chemist, it appears, that afternoon.
Fast forward to today. With a caution born of past experience, I rang the chemist first to make sure the prescription was ready to be collected, only to be told that nothing had been received from the surgery as yet and I should ring them again, which I duly did, only to be told that the scrip had been sent to the chemist's on Wednesday afternoon.
An hour later, another phone call from the surgery, Yes, the chemist now agreed that they had received the scrip and the prescription was ready. Assuming, logically as I thought, that this meant that the prescription was ready, I set off to the chemist.
"You have a prescription for ********," I said confidently to the sales assistant.
She went off to look - and then came back after muffled consultations with the pharmacist and other assistant.
"No, it's not ready. We have to send for the dressings."
I could feel a strong attack of 'deputy head' mode coming on as I pointed out that the surgery had been told that the prescription was ready to collect and that every time I came to collect dressings, there was a problem between the chemist and the surgery.
"Do you want to take it somewhere else, then?" was the po-faced response.
No, I don't. Actually, what I want is not to have to wait half a week for a prescription to be ready.
I also want better communication between the surgery and pharmacy and - one more thing - I would very much appreciate some vague hint that the people involved are just slightly apologetic that their service has not been up to scratch.
Some hope!
At our surgery, there is a half hour slot in the day for patients to ring up for prescription renewals. Tough luck if you are working and can't actually gain access to a phone at that time. If you need to make an appointment, well that's even more complicated. It is necessary to ring on the day you need the appointment for, so make sure you know in advance when you're going to need medical care. Mind you, you can get your prescription sent to the local chemist for you to pick up from there - eventually. Give it at least half a week.
On Wednesday I rang for a prescription renewal for some of Keith's dressings, pointing out that, last week, I had asked specifically for adhesive dressings, only to be given, yet again, wound pads. Eventually, with a couple of extra phone calls on my part to the district nurse, we established exactly which dressings were required and the prescription was sent to the chemist, it appears, that afternoon.
Fast forward to today. With a caution born of past experience, I rang the chemist first to make sure the prescription was ready to be collected, only to be told that nothing had been received from the surgery as yet and I should ring them again, which I duly did, only to be told that the scrip had been sent to the chemist's on Wednesday afternoon.
An hour later, another phone call from the surgery, Yes, the chemist now agreed that they had received the scrip and the prescription was ready. Assuming, logically as I thought, that this meant that the prescription was ready, I set off to the chemist.
"You have a prescription for ********," I said confidently to the sales assistant.
She went off to look - and then came back after muffled consultations with the pharmacist and other assistant.
"No, it's not ready. We have to send for the dressings."
I could feel a strong attack of 'deputy head' mode coming on as I pointed out that the surgery had been told that the prescription was ready to collect and that every time I came to collect dressings, there was a problem between the chemist and the surgery.
"Do you want to take it somewhere else, then?" was the po-faced response.
No, I don't. Actually, what I want is not to have to wait half a week for a prescription to be ready.
I also want better communication between the surgery and pharmacy and - one more thing - I would very much appreciate some vague hint that the people involved are just slightly apologetic that their service has not been up to scratch.
Some hope!
Teaching and counselling?
Full time teaching, the second year of my counselling diploma and the 95 hours remaining of my 100 hours counselling placement loom large on the horizon.
It's the last week of the summer holidays - not that you would immediately be aware that it is summer if you were to judge from the weather - but nevertheless, almost six weeks have been, come and gone in the blink of an eye, or so it seems. My problem is, where have they gone and what have I done with them? According to Murphy's Law (I think) work expands to fit the time allotted to it. In other words, the more time you have and the less things you have to do, the more time they take up. So I have spent the last few weeks pootling along, doing some decorating, the usual household chores, reading (personal and course-related), some gardening (not much) and starting my placement, with the attendant note-writing and supervision and some writing, although not as much as I'd like.
It's been very pleasant. I could get used to this life of leisure - not quite 'ladies who lunch' but close. However, finances dictate otherwise. Until I win the lottery I still need to earn the daily crust so, as from Monday, I return to being a whirling dervish of purposeful activity, new, full time teaching job, counselling course, placement, supervision meetings with all the driving around they all entail. Nothing very new really, but I've got used to this life of leisure - I feel a desert island beckoning...
Oh, and I'll have to start getting up earlier again and not staying up so late.
I'm off to buy a lottery ticket.
It's the last week of the summer holidays - not that you would immediately be aware that it is summer if you were to judge from the weather - but nevertheless, almost six weeks have been, come and gone in the blink of an eye, or so it seems. My problem is, where have they gone and what have I done with them? According to Murphy's Law (I think) work expands to fit the time allotted to it. In other words, the more time you have and the less things you have to do, the more time they take up. So I have spent the last few weeks pootling along, doing some decorating, the usual household chores, reading (personal and course-related), some gardening (not much) and starting my placement, with the attendant note-writing and supervision and some writing, although not as much as I'd like.
It's been very pleasant. I could get used to this life of leisure - not quite 'ladies who lunch' but close. However, finances dictate otherwise. Until I win the lottery I still need to earn the daily crust so, as from Monday, I return to being a whirling dervish of purposeful activity, new, full time teaching job, counselling course, placement, supervision meetings with all the driving around they all entail. Nothing very new really, but I've got used to this life of leisure - I feel a desert island beckoning...
Oh, and I'll have to start getting up earlier again and not staying up so late.
I'm off to buy a lottery ticket.
Counselling supervision and the canal
Today, I made it to my supervisor for my first session. As I am now doing a placement - i.e. practising counselling on unsuspecting members of the public, I am now obliged to be supervised. This involves meeting with a supervisor, usually monthly, to discuss my practice. The clients, of course, are never identified.
So, this time, I managed to find my way to the address and there it was, about two feet away from the edge of the canal.
"This will be fun on a dark winter's evening," I thought as I picked my way past the ducks and swans.
The view from the supervisor's room was lovely.
"Of course it's a bit dark in the winter," she said, but there is a security light. But anyway the canal is only waist deep."
Oh, so that's all-right then...!
So, this time, I managed to find my way to the address and there it was, about two feet away from the edge of the canal.
"This will be fun on a dark winter's evening," I thought as I picked my way past the ducks and swans.
The view from the supervisor's room was lovely.
"Of course it's a bit dark in the winter," she said, but there is a security light. But anyway the canal is only waist deep."
Oh, so that's all-right then...!
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