‘That was the week that was …’

I’m going to begin with a rant whilst it’s fresh in my mind.

This evening, as I navigated the North Circular, a road for which familiarity has certainly bred contempt during the last 4 weeks, I gave way to a police car which had indicated its intent to swap lanes ahead of me.

There was no gesture of thanks from the driver.

A couple of minutes later the blue lights of the vehicle started flashing & the driver began a u-turn. The driver could only get half way through the manoeuvre & she had to then reverse into my lane of traffic to complete the arc.

Again, I gave way to her & waited for the nod of acknowledgement. Which never came. The female driver took off without so much as a look towards any of the three vehicles she had expected to stop for her.

I know I sound like Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells, but I took a note of the index & seriously considered ringing her nick to complain. If someone as pro as me is thinking that, what the hell is the general public thinking ?

Yesterday’s headline in The Express newspaper was ‘Police drivers kill 30 people a year’. I’m not going to begin commenting on that kind of sensationalist journalism. What I will say is that with the public perception of police driving at a low ebb, the very least that police drivers can do is acknowledge other drivers who facilitate their rapid progress whilst they try to get to that emergency call within 12 minutes.

I will never deliberately obstruct an emergency services vehicle & I put today’s experience down to an immature, thoughtless officer. Other motorists may not see it the same way. So come on boys & girls … a quick thank – you to the motorist who let you through takes no time & does your image a world of good.

Whilst I’m in this vein … ‘Dear BBC why oh why oh why …. ?’ Only joking.

You already know that my Monday & Tuesday were spent at Casualty Bureau so I’ll tell you about the rest of the week, commencing with curry night.

‘And when they presented us with the bill, the tallest waiter stood near the exit’

Against all my expectations everyone was only 30 minutes late for our 1830 table booking & that was probably my fault to some extent as I was so engrossed in chatting to Creaky that it was difficult to leave my local & make the rvp. I was able to complete my mission & discover Creaky’s Tavistiock address, as well as gleaning the information that he is moving to a 4 bedroomed house (loads of room for visitors) & that Mrs Creaky likes Barley Marleys. Excellent, 1 summer walking break organised.

I was almost the last to arrive at the curry house & my punishment was in the usual form, I was seated next to Derv (only joking Derv). I tried to remind Derv that he had promised (during our last soiree) not only to loan me his bike for the day but to have me put on his insurance too. Needless to say, he was having none of it, despite me calling numerous & upstanding character witnesses who agreed with my version of events.

I had resolved to control my alcohol intake for three reasons.

(break in typing Sunday evening, remainder typed Monday evening)

Mostly because I wanted to observe Milky & Al & see how they were but also because after my 270 units in 1 night (at the aforementioned soiree when I NEEDED a drink) I suspected Darren thought I had a drink problem. The final reason for my abstinence was that the guv’nor has kept such a close eye on me since Casualty Bureau that I figured Milky had reported me as a possible welfare case. Milky’s giggling denial did little to allay my suspicions.

Watching the team interact I felt like an over-anxious gardener checking seedlings for frost damage. The good news is that, unsurprisingly after the night-duty they had just shared ; there was a palpable feeling of communal care. It was directed mostly at Al & Milky but everyone just seemed more tactile, friendly and warm. The only upside of everyone getting such a nasty shock, I suppose.

The benefit of being sober was watching people (ok then, Julie) descend into the type of behaviour I’m usually happily engrossed in. At the point that the hot towels were being flung, I was hastily collecting & hiding them & worrying what the other diners were thinking of our group.

When the huge bill was placed on the table, I noticed they positioned the largest of their waiters at the door.

After the meal, some people headed off home & the rest of us made our way to The Saucy Kettle in Surbiton. It was dead, with the complete lack of atmosphere I associate with trendy bar cum pubs. I wouldn’t go there again. I got to talk to Hadleigh & Frances for the 1st time & it was lovely to finally meet the girl I’ve heard so much about. Everything I’d heard was true & Frances is funny as well as gorgeous. Lucky Hadleigh

The evening was beginning to lose its impetus now & the only person keen to go on to a club was Derv who was showing commendable stamina. And so in ones & twos we drifted off home, the only certainty being that we’ll all meet up to do it again soon. I’ve missed them.

‘And make sure you wear something old …’

During the curry night I had told Milky that the best thing he could possibly do to stop him dwelling on work was to accompany me on a day out neddy-pestering. As you will know by now, I think there is no problem that cannot be remedied by fresh air, beautiful surroundings & hugging neddies. As we said goodbye we arranged to meet at the stables the next day. I could not stress highly enough to Milky that he should avoid at all costs wearing anything clean or new.

It was a clean & pristine Milky who got out of his car at the yard the next day & it was with dismay that I noted the immaculate jeans, biscuit coloured fleece & WHITE trainers.

Oh dear Milky. Still, at least he remembered his hat & gloves. Bless.

I, by contrast, was clad in blue jods, brown chaps & boots & a mud-coloured full-length riding coat.

We set off, headed for Givons Grove & Mickleham Gallops. I, mounted on Hannah & Milky on his trusty steed ; his mountain bike.

I was determined to cure Milky of his nocturnal ways & by God, I had a good go at it. We must have covered 6 miles & at least 1 of those was a 1 in 3 hill which Milky surprised me by getting half way up before losing traction & resorting to pushing his mud-spattered bike.

To say the ride was muddy does not begin to describe the conditions. Several times Milky had to dismount his bike & de-cake the wheels as they had stopped turning.

Towards the end of the ride, I advised Milky to head straight on, whilst I turned right at a woodland crossroads. I was heading for Mickleham Gallops & told him that his track would bisect the one I was due to canter along. ‘Just remember, whatever you do, as I canter towards you, stand clear of the bushes & don’t lurk or the horse’ll spook & I’ll get dumped on my arse.’

Perhaps I should have said more explicitly ‘And don’t take a flash photo as we canter past’.

At the point that the flash activated, Hannah’s hitherto collected canter became something altogether different. I was beginning to wonder if I would be able to pull her up before reaching the yard. Milky was gallant enough to say he didn’t notice the slightly out-of-control gallop.

The end of the day saw us ensconced in the tack room, relishing hot soup & chattering away nineteen to the dozen whilst cleaning tack. To be accurate, I cleaned tack & talked, Milky said ‘mmm’ every now & then & read the paper.

We decided our industry merited a pub meal & headed off in the torrential rain to one of my favourite pubs, The Running Horses in Mickleham. If you like Sky TV, pool tables, homogenous décor and a uniform menu, this pub’s not for you. I was utterly in my elephant, counting 6 dogs including a chow, 3 spaniels, an Airedale and a very dignified old Golden Retriever.

After only half a pint of delicious bitter in the very warm pub I was decidedly blurry & so we bade each other goodnight at a very responsible 2030. By 2130 I was tucked in bed & feeling for the 1st time since I started at Casualty Bureau that I wasn’t too tired to go to work the next day.

‘Back to life, back to reality …’

Casualty Bureau has downscaled a little now & our office is due to start 8 hour days which is my cue to return to VK. Lots of the collators are staying on, either because it’s a break from jobs they’re not keen on, or because the travelling is easier for them to get to Hendon than where they usually work. As neither is the case for me I said my goodbyes on Sunday night. We said the usual farewells …

‘See you at the next disaster’

When I’m a little less tired, remind me to tell you about the wind-up which Ray successfully pulled off on the whole office.

I have one more day off tomorrow (neddy pestering) & then I return to VK for early turn Wednesday, Thursday & Friday.

You’re always learning.

Last night I was due to do something that I wasn’t particularly relishing. A friend offered to help. I really wanted to say yes to the help but this is how my inward dialogue went.

‘I can’t say yes to the offer, because they might be hoping I’ll say no. On the other hand, if I have to do it alone, it will upset me. I’ll wait to see

In the end I simply said ‘That offer of help still on ?’ they said yes & a potentially upsetting incident was still difficult but much easier than it would have been had I done it alone.

When I said thank you for the help, I voiced my earlier worry that they may have offered hoping I would say no.

The answer was ‘If I hadn’t wanted to do it, I wouldn’t have offered. You’re welcome’

The moral of the story for me is

1) I analyse things too much &

2) I should stop being so very stubborn & accept help every now & then.


Goodnight all,

Cx

Hang in there to the person who isn’t being treated as well as they deserve at the moment. Everything comes to he who waits.