Friday, August 23, 2013
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Blowing Hot and Cold
I seem to have been in full hot flush for 10 years. For most of that time, I've assumed that meant my body temperature must be higher than normal.
A while ago, though, I reached a more logical explanation: the world feels hot to me because my body temperature is LOWER than usual.
Yesterday at my pre-op assessment my temperature came in at 36 degrees, which is below the bottom end of the normal human temperature range.
So now I know why I'm always hot, but there's still nothing I can do to keep cool!
A while ago, though, I reached a more logical explanation: the world feels hot to me because my body temperature is LOWER than usual.
Yesterday at my pre-op assessment my temperature came in at 36 degrees, which is below the bottom end of the normal human temperature range.
So now I know why I'm always hot, but there's still nothing I can do to keep cool!
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
What Price A View?
If there's one thing the rich like more than having a view, it's building something that obscures someone else's.
When the ultra-rich move into offices or appointments in the new tallest building in Europe, the Shard, or stay in the hotel to be opened inside it, they will find one side obscured a fair way up by the neighbouring tallest hospital building in the world, the tower of Guy's Hospital (one of the oldest hospitals in the world).
Sadly, my surgery, which will take place next Wednesday in the Guy's tower, and my brief stay in a ward there, will not offer me any views at all, as I will only be on the first floor!
Meanwhile, I have had my pre-op assessment, where I bought a couple of the bras I will have to wear after surgery. Glamorous they ain't! But there are velcro shoulder straps and front loading hooks AND a zip, so I guess they'll be pretty effective in keeping my boobs compressed till the stitches heal.
When the ultra-rich move into offices or appointments in the new tallest building in Europe, the Shard, or stay in the hotel to be opened inside it, they will find one side obscured a fair way up by the neighbouring tallest hospital building in the world, the tower of Guy's Hospital (one of the oldest hospitals in the world).
The Shard
Guy's Tower
So what are they doing? The owners of the Shard are paying to have the 1960/70s brutalist tower reclad!Sadly, my surgery, which will take place next Wednesday in the Guy's tower, and my brief stay in a ward there, will not offer me any views at all, as I will only be on the first floor!
Meanwhile, I have had my pre-op assessment, where I bought a couple of the bras I will have to wear after surgery. Glamorous they ain't! But there are velcro shoulder straps and front loading hooks AND a zip, so I guess they'll be pretty effective in keeping my boobs compressed till the stitches heal.
Monday, August 19, 2013
Saturday, August 17, 2013
Friday, August 16, 2013
Making a Difference
It's difficult to see what you can do in this complicated world that will make any kind of difference. There are quite a few small possibilities: feeding the garden birds; leaving a patch of weeds for the bees and butterflies; not using throwaway carrier bags; reusing and recycling. Small actions making small but significant differences that, if we all did them, would make a real dent in what's going wrong on the planet. No one else may know about them, but they give you a real glow.
But doing something others can see - even if they don't notice, and wouldn't know you did it anyway - is harder to achieve, but so satisfying.
For a couple of years I have been trying to make the Environment Agency take notice of how London and Quadrant, a local housing association slashes the newly naturalised bank of the stretch of river that runs through one of its housing estates. No one had really bothered to take my concerns seriously. As a consequence, the environmentally illiterate contractors employed by the similarly ignorant association had been severely cutting back the greenery on the banks from top to bottom and from end to end.
Last September I found a young man doing what he had been told, massacring every growing thing on a section of the bank. I stopped to talk to him. I told he was destroying the habitat and any winter shelter and food from seedheads that the wildlife might need. He agreed, but said he'd been told to do it. I appealed to his good sense, and when I returned some hours later, there was no further destruction.
As spring approached, I was concerned that the next people sent might not be as intelligent as this young man, and that I might not be lucky enough to catch them at it, so I phoned the Environment Agency to express my desire that they take London and Quadrant to task for their mistreatment of the environment entrusted to them.
It took a while to talk the man round. He'd been familiar with the area since the floods of 1967, he said. (At that time the local council had put the river in a concrete tunnel to avoid further flooding, and it was only opened up a few years ago.)When I corrected him that the floods had been in 1968, he realised I had been as familiar with the area as him for as long as him, and he took notice. He told me that the greenery should not be cut back in spring at all, and that in autumn only one third should be cut back in any one year, and then only a yard or so up from the river's edge, to avoid the colonisation of willows.
He arranged for some officers to meet with L&Q to advise them on the care of the banks. So now, every time I walk along the opposite bank (which has its own problems, but one thing at a time) I smile proudly at the results of my intervention.
In the middle of each picture you can see the compromised verdure of the section that was cut back last autumn. The rest of the bank is lush. If that young man had not heeded my pleas, the whole bank would look like the slashed section.
Job well done by all concerned, and a real sense of achievement for me. It would be nice if others knew, just so they could see that they too can make a difference.
So, if there's something bugging you near your home, think how you could help - then do it. You won't regret it.
But doing something others can see - even if they don't notice, and wouldn't know you did it anyway - is harder to achieve, but so satisfying.
For a couple of years I have been trying to make the Environment Agency take notice of how London and Quadrant, a local housing association slashes the newly naturalised bank of the stretch of river that runs through one of its housing estates. No one had really bothered to take my concerns seriously. As a consequence, the environmentally illiterate contractors employed by the similarly ignorant association had been severely cutting back the greenery on the banks from top to bottom and from end to end.
Last September I found a young man doing what he had been told, massacring every growing thing on a section of the bank. I stopped to talk to him. I told he was destroying the habitat and any winter shelter and food from seedheads that the wildlife might need. He agreed, but said he'd been told to do it. I appealed to his good sense, and when I returned some hours later, there was no further destruction.
As spring approached, I was concerned that the next people sent might not be as intelligent as this young man, and that I might not be lucky enough to catch them at it, so I phoned the Environment Agency to express my desire that they take London and Quadrant to task for their mistreatment of the environment entrusted to them.
It took a while to talk the man round. He'd been familiar with the area since the floods of 1967, he said. (At that time the local council had put the river in a concrete tunnel to avoid further flooding, and it was only opened up a few years ago.)When I corrected him that the floods had been in 1968, he realised I had been as familiar with the area as him for as long as him, and he took notice. He told me that the greenery should not be cut back in spring at all, and that in autumn only one third should be cut back in any one year, and then only a yard or so up from the river's edge, to avoid the colonisation of willows.
He arranged for some officers to meet with L&Q to advise them on the care of the banks. So now, every time I walk along the opposite bank (which has its own problems, but one thing at a time) I smile proudly at the results of my intervention.
In the middle of each picture you can see the compromised verdure of the section that was cut back last autumn. The rest of the bank is lush. If that young man had not heeded my pleas, the whole bank would look like the slashed section.
Job well done by all concerned, and a real sense of achievement for me. It would be nice if others knew, just so they could see that they too can make a difference.
So, if there's something bugging you near your home, think how you could help - then do it. You won't regret it.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Vixens at the Zoo
Monday was the annual Vincent Vixen reunion, and this time we decided to go to my favourite stomping ground, London Zoo.
Diane, Eliza and Ann, with Melati in the background.
Diane, Eliza, Melati and me.
We had a great day catching up. Even with not much Vincent stuff to talk about, we have so much to talk about that we never shut up.
Ann took some lovely animal pictures:
Funny, they were bigger than this when I uploaded them...
At the end of the day, we tried to make our various ways back home to the four corners of the country (well, not quite...) but almost did not get past second base. There was a signal failure at the tube station, Camden Town, and hundreds of people outside pressing to be allowed in.
We decided to try our luck with a cab (not easy in a busy location under such circumstances) but we were fortunate, and found one pretty quickly to take us to King's Cross, where Diane could catch her train, and the rest of us could find alternative ways to get to where we needed to be to continue our journeys.
Today I slept!
Diane, Eliza and Ann, with Melati in the background.
Diane, Eliza, Melati and me.
We had a great day catching up. Even with not much Vincent stuff to talk about, we have so much to talk about that we never shut up.
Ann took some lovely animal pictures:
Funny, they were bigger than this when I uploaded them...
At the end of the day, we tried to make our various ways back home to the four corners of the country (well, not quite...) but almost did not get past second base. There was a signal failure at the tube station, Camden Town, and hundreds of people outside pressing to be allowed in.
We decided to try our luck with a cab (not easy in a busy location under such circumstances) but we were fortunate, and found one pretty quickly to take us to King's Cross, where Diane could catch her train, and the rest of us could find alternative ways to get to where we needed to be to continue our journeys.
Today I slept!
Sunday, August 11, 2013
Friday, August 09, 2013
Thursday, August 08, 2013
Old New Forest
When King Harold avoided a Scandinavian future for the English by defeating Harald Hardrada, he had to make his way as speedily as possible from the north east coast to the south coast where William the Bastard was about to make his own invasion attempt.
Of course, poor old Harold got an eyeful of arrow, and William won the Battle of Hastings in the year the English lost control of their country to foreign invasion for the last time ever, in 1066.
In 1079 Harold created from an existing ancient woodland a hunting forest, identified and described in the Domesday Book of 1086 as the New Forest.
It's a very desirable place to live, and one of my cousins is lucky enough to live there. Every year I go to visit her and her family just for a day, and yesterday was that day.
The New Forest is famous for its wild ponies. People love to see them (though they don't always drive as if they realise a wild pony can run out into the road at any point, and this year the death toll has risen). Some now have reflective collars round their necks in an attempt to reduce deaths. Even though I visit every year, and knew there were also cattle grazing on the forest heathland (deer are restricted to specific areas) I had no idea till yesterday there were wild donkeys.
I thought some of you might enjoy a few pictures of the creatures that wander nonchalantly across the roads to the delight and, sometimes frustration, of passing motorists.
An adult pony wanders off the road on to the verge.
One foal had wandered away from its mum, and was having a leisurely stroll past the cars.
A group of donkeys oblivious of the traffic mayhem they were causing. Some were youngsters with their fluffy juvenile coats just beginning to moult off.
Of course, poor old Harold got an eyeful of arrow, and William won the Battle of Hastings in the year the English lost control of their country to foreign invasion for the last time ever, in 1066.
In 1079 Harold created from an existing ancient woodland a hunting forest, identified and described in the Domesday Book of 1086 as the New Forest.
It's a very desirable place to live, and one of my cousins is lucky enough to live there. Every year I go to visit her and her family just for a day, and yesterday was that day.
The New Forest is famous for its wild ponies. People love to see them (though they don't always drive as if they realise a wild pony can run out into the road at any point, and this year the death toll has risen). Some now have reflective collars round their necks in an attempt to reduce deaths. Even though I visit every year, and knew there were also cattle grazing on the forest heathland (deer are restricted to specific areas) I had no idea till yesterday there were wild donkeys.
I thought some of you might enjoy a few pictures of the creatures that wander nonchalantly across the roads to the delight and, sometimes frustration, of passing motorists.
An adult pony wanders off the road on to the verge.
One foal had wandered away from its mum, and was having a leisurely stroll past the cars.
A group of donkeys oblivious of the traffic mayhem they were causing. Some were youngsters with their fluffy juvenile coats just beginning to moult off.
Wednesday, August 07, 2013
Monday, August 05, 2013
Awful Pretty, Pretty Awful
First the good part.
At the end of July I took my friend Rob to London Zoo. I really needed to see the baby Malayan tapir before he lost his stripes.
I was lucky. His stripes are beginning to disappear under his adult grey back, but he's still stripey and sweet as anything.
The Francois langurs have a new baby, but unlike the adults the babies are ginger. You can just about see the baby's head and part of its body.
Meanwhile, my expensive summer continues - though luckily not quite as expensive as it could have been. On Saturday I came downstairs to find that my shower had flooded the kitchen, which is below the bathroom. The ceiling was stained from floodwater from a leaky gutter last year, and I still haven't had the stains painted over. Just as well. As I walked to the shops on Saturday afternoon, I was determined to ask every neighbour I met if they could recommend a good plumber. The first one I met said she'd recently had a similar problem, but the plumber was supplied but the company that insures her pipework. A light bulb lit up in my brain. Didn't I have just such an insurance policy? I checked when I got home, and I did. A plumber came out today and, instead of as I'd imagined ripping up the floor tiles and floorboards, he sawed holes in the ceiling:
The company will send someone out to patch the holes, but the repainting is down to me. This year, next year, sometime, never...
I was lucky. His stripes are beginning to disappear under his adult grey back, but he's still stripey and sweet as anything.
The Francois langurs have a new baby, but unlike the adults the babies are ginger. You can just about see the baby's head and part of its body.
Meanwhile, my expensive summer continues - though luckily not quite as expensive as it could have been. On Saturday I came downstairs to find that my shower had flooded the kitchen, which is below the bathroom. The ceiling was stained from floodwater from a leaky gutter last year, and I still haven't had the stains painted over. Just as well. As I walked to the shops on Saturday afternoon, I was determined to ask every neighbour I met if they could recommend a good plumber. The first one I met said she'd recently had a similar problem, but the plumber was supplied but the company that insures her pipework. A light bulb lit up in my brain. Didn't I have just such an insurance policy? I checked when I got home, and I did. A plumber came out today and, instead of as I'd imagined ripping up the floor tiles and floorboards, he sawed holes in the ceiling:
The company will send someone out to patch the holes, but the repainting is down to me. This year, next year, sometime, never...
Sunday, August 04, 2013
Who New
So, the new Doctor Who is Peter Capaldi. That makes 2 out of 12 Doctors I've seen with my own eyes, in person.
Tom Baker passed me at Charing Cross Station years ago. Peter Capaldi walked past me in the street a couple of years back. I seem to recall he went into a cake shop or cafe.
See how sad I am? I think this is a big enough deal to make a post about, even more than remembering a week or two ago that I once worked with someone who was on a plane with the world's first female elected head of state, Mrs Bandaranaike of Sri Lanka, putting me at two degrees of separation.
Tom Baker passed me at Charing Cross Station years ago. Peter Capaldi walked past me in the street a couple of years back. I seem to recall he went into a cake shop or cafe.
See how sad I am? I think this is a big enough deal to make a post about, even more than remembering a week or two ago that I once worked with someone who was on a plane with the world's first female elected head of state, Mrs Bandaranaike of Sri Lanka, putting me at two degrees of separation.
Saturday, August 03, 2013
Thursday, August 01, 2013
We won
For now.
The plans to downgrade the A&E and maternity services at Lewisham Hospital, my local, by the Health Secretary, have been declared illegal in a judicial review at the High Court. Locals were not consulted, including the GPs that now hold the purse strings, thanks to a decision by the government that appears to have backfired on them.
Whoopee!
Of course, this crappy government, which wasted £6 million on the initial consultation (which wasn't even about this hospital) is going to appeal, thus wasting even more money. Our money.
And if they lose the appeal? They will spit out their dummies and change the law to make it legal for their puppets to do whatever the fuck they decided they wanted done anyway, thus making consultation a charade and a farce.
Typical of bullies to change the rules if they don't win. But they have to learn to take it, especially when they have no mandate from the electorate for any of this creeping dismantling of our beloved NHS.
The plans to downgrade the A&E and maternity services at Lewisham Hospital, my local, by the Health Secretary, have been declared illegal in a judicial review at the High Court. Locals were not consulted, including the GPs that now hold the purse strings, thanks to a decision by the government that appears to have backfired on them.
Whoopee!
Of course, this crappy government, which wasted £6 million on the initial consultation (which wasn't even about this hospital) is going to appeal, thus wasting even more money. Our money.
And if they lose the appeal? They will spit out their dummies and change the law to make it legal for their puppets to do whatever the fuck they decided they wanted done anyway, thus making consultation a charade and a farce.
Typical of bullies to change the rules if they don't win. But they have to learn to take it, especially when they have no mandate from the electorate for any of this creeping dismantling of our beloved NHS.
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