empire

hello there

risking some repetition of sorts, here. as in yes, this is all to do with me finding another old film magazine on my travels, look you see. well, when i say repetition i think this is "only" the third time i have done such in around 22 years (!) of doing this. the only other instances, unless i have missed one or two (or more), would be here and then here. 

quite the slight difference with this one, however, as it is a 90s one. specifically, if you like, at the time of writing a more or less exactly 30 (thirty) year old magazine. and it's also arguably an edition of one which could consider itself "the best" film magazine what ever existed, for it is (indeed) a copy of Empire what i found. for provenance i likely bought this at the time, but this copy was found at a charity stall at a service station on my travels a couple of years ago. deliberate indeed was my decision to only showcase it here close on a decimal numbered anniversary. 

somehow Empire remains a going concern, as in it being a published, physical edition magazine offered for sale. not bought it in years (likely not since the early 2000s) and am not likely to either any time soon. other than being not particularly interested in "film news" these days, well, from what i can tell from the cover of it when i see it now it has (alas) seem to have become pretty much a promo tool for various "streaming" services. 

frequent readers of this blog (thank you) will not be surprised at why, of the half a dozen or so copies they had on offer, i selected this one. yes, indeed, my proclivity to (mostly) review films on the basis of quality nudies in them saw me drawn to this. also, though, this would have been (when i picked up this edition) around when i saw The Substance, in which cover star Demi Moore was breathtakingly brilliant. i would hope that influenced my thinking. 

like (i imagine) a good many people i have discovered, flicking through this, that i have simply lost the patience (or interest) in reading magazines. probably newspapers too. whereas i still (very much) read novels it is quite extraordinary how "the internet" (or the "information age" as i suppose it is called) has changed us. the seemingly constant, perhaps incessant, flow of fast and compressed information has taken away from engaging with quality journalism. it is entirely possible that the generation of now know not what it is they shall miss with this, for they never had it. 

one of the "big" things film magazines like Empire did was bring you "advance news" on films. stories, rumours and reports on who(m) was doing what. maybe i should have done a "proper" picture, or one of them scan things, of the below, but we are here now. you shall just have to read my account below. 

blimey. essentially what that article is all about (or relates to) is that James Cameron, who at the time was making Titanic (that was a surprise and no one had any idea how huge a film it would be), intended for his next film to feature 0% actors, 100% computer generated actors. quite a statement of intent, since at the time i think the only "entirely computer created" film was Toy Story. obviously the comments in the article from acting unions and what have you are against the idea. the point of interest for me with this is that he damned nearly did it, since the one after Titanic, being Avatar, was made with quite negligible "actual" actor presence. 

any other "coming soon" news in the edition? nothing quite so exciting (or vaguely close to accurate) as the above. there's a picture of Harrison Ford punching Brad Pitt (in the face) off the set of whatever it was that IRA based mess of a film was, and a reference to the apparently exciting idea of broadcasting preview screenings of Evita (yes, the Madonna one) via satellite. otherwise, just something on Eric Cantona making a film (if not acting) debut, plus a bit on the decline of (ahem) "romantic" scenes in summer blockbuster movies. 

  

the articles in Empire were (maybe still are) always good, being quirky, interesting and a times causing a degree of (mass) debate on (in) the readers letters page. in this edition, as pictured above, is an article on fifty (50) films which "should not have been made". doesn't go as far as stating "the fifty worst films ever made", for none of the post-Guttenberg Police Academy ones feature. 

no, i am not listing them all here. one or two (or more) "debatable" choices, since i quite liked Cocktail, the David Lynch Dune, The Doors, Electric Dreams (although i need to watch it again), Problem Child 2 (odd they don't pick on the first too), the 80s Supergirl, Showgirls (for obvious reasons) and, for that matter, Zardoz. should my brother ever stumble on this edition and read that, according to them, that the film The Boys In Blue, starring (Tommy) Cannon and (Bobby) Ball, should not have been made, he would probably set fire to the magazine, track down the writers and set fire to them, set fire to the printing press that produced such heresy, etc. he does tend to take the defence of his favourites seriously. 

pretty sure that 1996 was the last "golden era" for cigarette adverts. when Bliar came into power in 1997, aptly on May Day from what i recall, banning cigarette adverts (with the exception of on Formula One for a while) was one of his first acts. i don't rightly know, or recall, if i ever tried the "Marlboro Medium" on offer here. must be (obviously) before they stopped them using variations of strength as part of the brand name, hence Marlboro Lights becoming Marlboro Gold. likely i gave them a go, but for the most part it would have been Marlboro Red all day every day then (sorry). 

speaking (or writing) of adverts and the magazine is one lengthy reminder about just how big, and presumably lucrative, the home video market was in the mid 90s. believe it more or less was for at least another ten or so years, likely right up to "the internet" being fast enough to pirate things and the rise of DVD recording technology. with this edition being before DVD was a thing. 

exactly how big the market was in illustrated by Woolworths (don't look for it, it isn't there any more) doing a full page advert to sell the video of Judge Dredd. yes, the Sylvester Stallone one, which wasn't particularly bad, just not brilliant and hardly a success. not including a picture of that here (unless someone asks nicely and then i will edit it in later), but there's one other film that gets advertised quite a lot in this edition. 

merry days, for HMV remains a thing (all the other shops advertising have long since ceased to be), and the point of the above here is them advertising Crimson Tide. although describing Pulp Fiction as an action film doesn't feel right. there are at least three (3), possibly 4 (four) adverts from different shops encouraging one to purchase the video of Crimson Tide off of them. really don't remember all that much about the film, to be honest, except it featured some quality Gene Hackman shouting. from what i recall the "big deal" with it was that Quentin Tarantino acted as a "secret" (except everyone knew it) script doctor for it, adjusting some of the dialogue. hence the appearance of abstract 70s cultural references every now and then in a film i think was something to do with a submarine threatening to fire a nuclear missile at someone or other. 

by the way, if you ever end up with the sell thru video (actual) version of Die Hard With A Vengeance in the above advert immediately destroy it. the mid to late 90s was the BBFC being their most keen to needlessly throw their weight around. video releases routinely got extra edits from the cinema versions which they invariably demanded cuts be made to. in respect of this version of Die Hard 3, there is some clumsy, awful "language" censorship, with the soundtrack going silent to remove what the BBFC felt was just a few too many rude (or naughty) words. 

to tie in some of the above with the below and one of my favourite articles ever in Empire pertained (or related) to when the BBFC "refused" to give Reservoir Dogs a certificate for video release. in response, and remember this was all before "internet" or being able to "order online", readers wrote in with the ways and means by which they had "imported" a copy of the video. this went on to the extent that Empire ran a quasi competition to determine the "best" way someone had got their hands on a video of it, with the kicker that no less than Quentin Tarantino, who(m) thought it was "cool" that fans were going to such lengths, judging the best means. no, can't recall the winning method or any sort of prize. 

on to the "small" ads, then, above. which are also "classifieds", yet Empire referred to it as the emporium. again, getting obscure, rare or unusual stuff was not easy pre-internet. whilst i do appreciate how easy it is to pretty much get anything you like (legal or otherwise) these days, indeed it is true that i do miss the days of "mail order". never any reason to have doubts you would get what you wished for and quite quick too, since back then we had a reliable, decent postal service. 

getting film soundtracks, relatively rare videos, rental copies of films and what have you was lovely to be able to do off of this. more importantly, though, since these were not "mainstream" (or actual) shops as such, well. once you built up a relationship with sellers here, this was the way you got the videos which were "banned" or withdrawn from release in the UK. a partial list would be, remembering this as being the 90s, Clockwork Orange, Straw Dogs, The Exorcist and what have you. probably (ahem) some erotica ones too. 

as to why someone would wish to buy a "rental" copy of a video (which cost 4x or so more than the sell thru new), well, quality. rental tapes used better quality video (actual), heavier and slightly thicker than was used on sell thru. the reason is that rental tapes would likely be played hundreds of times and so needed to be resilient, whilst no one expected anyone to play a sell thru tape more than ten or a dozen times. playback of sell thru tapes noticeably deteriorates if you watch it that many times. 

last picture (unless i get requests to add more) and why would one take up any of the many offers to go and buy the video of Crimson Tide when you could get it as a gift if you took out a subscription to the magazine? maybe i should watch the film again, for i really don't remember it being full worthy of all the fuss that was seemingly made at the time. well, the time it came out to buy on video. 

the advert to the right is an interesting one, offering as it does "internet access". again, this was 1996, with most still regarding the "internet" as a novelty, or a passing trend that had no practical future. not sure that was accurate. likely around this time a few magazines and newspapers started to have what we would today call an "online presence", whether they were or were not (possibly the former, maybe the latter) aware that "internet" would come to deliver a near fatal blow to them. specifically for a film magazine like Empire i can remember one late 90s (and early 2000s) web "thing" that seemed to provide fast news. for fun i did a google and yes, it is still going, even looking like i recall. 

right, that shall (more or less) do for another sentimental hygiene trip into the way it all was. once upon a time, then, you could walk into a newsagents with £5 (a fiver), buy this decent magazine, a packet of Marlboro (sorry) and get a few coins change. further, you could then get on an affordable, reliable train, go somewhere knowing you would be on time, reading the magazine but likely not being allowed to smoke on it. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

heal thyself

greetings

whereas no, not really, not really, no, i don't expect anyone to be all that interested in my plight, it does feel somewhat amiss of me to not give vague traces of conclusions to tales that i start here. and so, to that end, or to this extent, some updates on my most recent of medical exploits. essentially this is a follow on to this post, look you see. don't say you weren't warned (if not guided). i can totes relate to someone having no interest at all in this, so if it is you i randomly and unknowingly relate to then i wish you well in finding something (considerably) more better to read. 

speaking of warnings, guidance and the like, note that this post does feature a significant level of indulgent, excessive and gratuitous selfies. as if there is (really) any other form of such. yes, i did beautify the previous post with some "not bad" so-called "AI" generated images of hedgehogs and koalas, but i simply could not be bothered to do so here. 

above is an image (or if you like picture) of the things of medical stuff i need to apply to my somewhat still gaping wound. for what, exactly, that wound is, well, you kind of do need to go and read of the incident in the link provided. only if interested, of course. yes, i am indeed amused that the aseptic pack has written (printed) on it "for professional use only", when i am not. 

to get to the stage of changing the dressing (or what have you) by myself i have made three (3) visits to oddly different medical practitioners. nurses, if you like. well, nurses if you don't like too, for that is what their vocation is. hey don't get upset with me, i didn't build this world, i just live in it. 

likely this shall lack the accidentally coherent, at the least chronological sense of the original post, but to go back a few steps (or what have you) from the image above, in the first instance i returned to the hospital where the "surgical procedure" was carried out. eventually, despite their efforts to be as inefficient as possible. would you like some video what i have added narration to? good. 

exactly how little of a f*** anyone responsible for people gives about patients to this particular hospital is wonderfully illustrated there, is it not? there is indeed a (partial) car park on the side of the road where one can find the hospital, but generally it is perpetually full. having no means for people to safely cross the road from a car park to a hospital is a whole new level of insanity, one that (for instance) Joseph Heller could only wish he had thought of as fiction. 

circumstantially i had to return to this hospital in the first instance. they were the ones that reluctantly did the procedure my doctor said was required, and thus they had a notion of interest in making sure it had not gone "wrong" or what have you. more on that appointment in a bit, but the peculiarly familiar nurse appeared happy with how (after some 4 or 5 days) it looked. she, in a quasi giddy way, said i needed to get it changed "every 3 to 4 days" or something like that, which i initially interpreted as "weekly". i was asked if i would like to arrange to return to that hospital for this to be done and i used a somewhat diplomatically worded version of "f*** no, no f*****g way" to decline. this was not an issue, apparently, and it would be fine for my "regular" clinic to do it. 

warnings were issued, the first selfie is coming up. or down, i suppose, since it is below. for some reason i thought it would be a (really) good idea to take a picture of it all sans bandage, as in the gaping wound itself. then i thought it might be appropriate to censor it, and that's why such a thing as images of Larry Grayson pulling that face thing exist. 

how is the gaping wound, or traces of the surgical procedure? of significant size and slight depth i suppose, yet perhaps not to the excess which the size of the Larry Grayson image implies. from what i can tell it is "closing up" or what have you, which i suppose is a sign of it being on the mend. 

exactly what size is this gap (or gaping wound) in my arm? well, for a perspective that all can related to, no i cannot Videodrome it. should for some reason you have no idea what that means, well, it means that the gaping would is not large enough for me to insert a (VHS) video into. probably not even a Betamax. likely best i could do is (ahem) copy Videodrome onto a micro sd thing (or very small usb memory stick) and shove that in, but it's unlikely to make me full tilt James Woods. 

going back (briefly) to the return to the well run hospital, then, when they initially changed the dressing and did some rudimentary checks that it was (vaguely) all right. 

notice how there was absolutely no one else waiting when i arrived? a bit spooky (or unusual), to be sure, but what's more interesting is that somehow, although i was the only one actually there, i was still only the fourth (4th) patient (or what have you) they called for. as per my other post, no this is not some form of entitled "but i was here first" whine. if there's a serious medical issue then of course preference should be given. however, in this instance, no emergencies as such, they just seemed keen to see if anyone else turned up before going "oh go on then" and checking out my arm. 

for further dressing (or bandage) changes i was referred to my usual medical practitioner, then. alas they could not assist, for the nurse what does that sort of thing (not that sort of thing) was away. not to worry, they were most helpful in finding another clinic what was (is) within walking distance of my lodgings in this era of exile, and they were delighted to see me. 

quite lovely people there. although their first (entirely reasonable) question for me was of what did i think i was playing at only booking an appointment every week when i was told it needed doing every two to three (2 to 3) days. indeed yes i apologised and they made the requisite bookings. 

yes, another selfie (on a cloudy day) above for you to do what you will with. as you may well have noticed the plaster (or dressing) is in the "diamond" arrangement. one of the nurses said to alternate between diamond and square so as to not keep sticking to the same patches of skin. well, that's what i can remember of the advice. 

really not much else to add, except to say that the nurses were (most) delighted with my efforts in cleaning the wound, applying gel and placing the dressing (plaster) on it. i was told that i would be very welcome to come in and have them do it, but i could clearly hold my own (so to speak) with it all, so just do it myself. with the clarification that if something looked busted, such as it going all red or discoloured or the rash returning, i was to go to the doctor at once. fair enough. 

that's that, then. if something interesting (or unusual) happens further (rather than earlier) with this jolly incident i shall be sure to document it. otherwise, well, those (few) interested can likely take it more or less as a given that it is on the mend. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

mike d - thank you

howdy pop pickers

well, yes, that should be mike d d5, look you see, since it is and is not a solo album off of mike d, but one gone done with the collaborative band i am (reliably) led to believe is called d5. moving on from that and the new tape (disc) is called thank you, and yes, it is that mike d, as in the one out of beastie boys. 

a reasonable amount of "if" will feature here. further some (alas) unavoidable beastie boys references, though i do hope this does not spark a revival of the tiresome accusations of me "not being a proper fan" of intergalactic no matter what i do. 

for those in a rush, yes, the album is quite decent. due to the genre (or style) or what have you it might, oddly, appeal to that "younger generation" i keep hearing of and possibly attract an audience that has absolutely no idea what a beastie boy is. 

quite the schrödinger thing here, really, for it is and is not "member of beastie boys does a beastie boys album as a solo thing". sure, the familiar and (this really feels like the wrong word) comfortable sound of the beasties resonates, but this album is no prisoner of the past. difficult to put an exact genre on it, as was the case with the beasties. for the sake of simplicity (or ease) the beasties got called "rap hip hop", but then that was qualified with also "trip hop" (whatever that is), funk and an acknowledgment of them never ever really leaving their rock / punk roots. essentially the beasties put together just whatever they believed to sound really, really f*****g good, and mostly that's what happens here. 

had someone handed me this tape (disc) without any knowledge of provenance then it's rather unlikely i would have clocked it was the mike d, and i (likely) would have thought some of it sounds quite class but not for moi as such. yet i am aware of the provenance (hence the purchase) and that's all probably why i have been more receptive of it. make no mistake, the "music free for all" now possible is brilliant, it's class that anyone can make music. but i do yearn for the days of filter, when "cream rose to the top" and you were led to class bands via either aggressive marketing, things like NME giving them coverage or simply mates chatting. 

define the sound of the tape (disc)? sure. kind of. best i can do for you it is a hedonistic go at what the future might sound like, if you were in the late 70s / early 80s and imagining what that faraway year of 2000 might have for vibes. lots of smart snare snapes, awesome "ping ping bing wacca wacca" bass that i love so much, cool undefined random sounds and layered with sometimes distorted, occasionally coherent lyrics. actually Secrets Pts I & II is on now, and i really, really did the "bidibop" noises on it man, funky. 

low points on the album? not really that much margin for such with a taunt, wise (just) south of 40 minutes play time. i confess (be ready with the "not a proper fan" comments) that a sigh escaped not long after Back To Start (ahem) started, since lyrics referencing the board game monopoly are not exactly a new thing or "cutting edge". decent enough song, mind, but i got distracted by the lack of creativity with the lyrics. such is seriously not the way of the beasties, together or alone i would have thought. 

stating the obvious (which i am totes going to do) is to say that i simply don't have enough years left on this planet to play thank you anywhere near as many times i have what i consider the holy trinity of beastie boys records. which are paul's boutique, ill communication and hello nasty. not that there's anything wrong with the other two. the thing is, though, with what time i have left (a bit, i hope, even if some do not), i would imagine (at the least) paul's boutique will get played more frequently than this one. no, it isn't getting discarded by the end of the month like so many new albums of late have had such fate, but still. that said the bouncy bouncy uber funky bass on Make It Stop has just kicked in and, yeah, man, i am really digging this one. 

exactly where does this sit in my if not pivotal then certainly irrelevant "album of the year" considerations and deliberations? well, from memory (which is not to be trusted) i think the only "new" tapes (discs) i have picked up this year have been the ho hum Morrissey one, and then two (2) goes at hearing a proper version of the second KillerStar album. so likely quite high, especially as i have no grand ideas of the new Kasabian one being all that groundbreaking. oh, yes, there was the Stones one too. 

if you are wishing to seek out the album, here is a link to mike d's official website thing. rather smart it is too, being some sort of 90s web throwback. you may well note (or observe) that a tape (actual) version of thank you is available. normally i would purchase such because "why not", yet here there is a pretty big "why not" at it being priced north of £20. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

car wash return

hello there

well, what can i say, there's been a recent revival of some regular types of post here of late. bit of a throwback thing, look you see, although it (very much) is a case of that being by default rather than design. no one, i would imagine, would accuse me of things like planning or structure. 

yes, indeed it has been (quite) some time since i used a car wash. this was not for want of trying. on instances when i had visited such a facility i found it to be unavailable, if not (strictly speaking) out of service in any real terms. the one i can recall most was when i went to use one at a petrol station and they happened to be getting a fuel delivery at that time. i asked if i could use the car wash (politely) and was told no, because "the delivery driver gets upset" when people do so whilst he is there. 

above is what i presume to assume to be the "gameboy" mode on this new "8 bit" camera thing i have. no, it does not claim it is "gameboy", as more than likely (probably) that might incur some legal repose. still, that shades of green thing says what it is. for clarification that's the big floppy wet soapy brush going over the windscreen. 

i have recently taken command of a (relatively) new vehicle off of verk. getting it to a car wash as soon as possible was very much a priority, since they had kindly elected (or opted) to deliver it to me in a somewhat distressed state, covered (substantially) in "bird droppings". presumably this all happened whilst it was in transit to moi. how do i know such? because i know exactly where verk stores vans, and the place is famous for the unusual phenomenon of birds flying upside down in the vicinity of it as the entire area is simply not even worth sh!tt!ng on. 

some VHS style for you now, with the image above and the video (actual) below. that is of course of all that wonderful lukewarm, foaming bubbly water coating the windscreen. it is pretty much (more or less) all that i can capture of the experience, as they discourage you from getting out of your vehicle whilst the great big car wash machinery does its thing. one can only presume (or assume) that if they did get out, all that would happen is that you would get extremely wet, a bit knacked (physically) off of the machine and a bit knacked (verbal rebuke) off of the proprietor. 

did i enjoy being back at the car wash? yes, i suppose so. as far as one can, really. i mean i am assuming people far more concerned about their vehicles take great (understandable) pride in it being all clean and pristine. me, moi, not so much. it's not mine, it belongs to verk. to be honest i have little attachment, especially as it does not have a tape (or compact disc) deck, and besides if it breaks i just have to pick up the phone and (after a wait) tell them it is broken and ask if i please may have another. 

of (really) vague interest might be that this was the first time (like, totes ever) that i had used this particular car wash facility. by default it is now, i think, the one which is nearest closest to my lodgings in this era of exile. well, closest that the fuel card verk supplies with the vehicle is accepted. if there was an expectation for me to pay for it to get washed and claim the cost back then it would happen even more less ("fewer") than it does now. 

how did the car wash go? negligible, really. i went for the most expensive wash option (which you would think, since i do not pay for it, i would do as standard) and it got much of the bird droppings of. exactly how much? a substantial amount. still traces (and marks) of it remain. this is something i would imagine that i could just wipe off myself, but not really, not really, no. easier just to take it back and let the machine have another go. possible i will do so in the next week or so. 

that above is the big wet soapy floppy brush going past the driver (right hand) side of my vehicle. no, i am not doing that all "proper side" thing again. indeed the image you see was taken with this new 8-bit camera app thing. not bad, i suppose, just not really the greater good and glory of Commodore 64 mode. 

exactly how much was the "expensive" car wash thing? to be honest as it is not my money i really don't look, but think it was just south of £7. sure, i could go to one of the many car wash things we have all up and down the country, where gangs of economic migrants have been given visas for their skills at washing cars, but for some reason they are all (or mostly) cash only, so no. 

final bit of video (as far as this post goes) above, then. it's an extended look at all the lukewarm (or possibly just cold) soapy water spread all over the windscreen. 

right, that's just about it for the car wash. except (possibly) to say after this wash experience i returned to that lovely, well managed, efficient hospital i spent (quite) some time in getting a minor medical matter sorted out, eventually. yes, there is a link, and here it is. confusingly for a good while, say 5 or 10 or so minutes, i was the only person in the waiting room, yet somehow i was still only the 4th (or 5th) person they called in. go figure. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

shabby chic distressed trolley bonanza

heya

pretty much does what it says on the box, this. or rather (pedantic fans) what it states in the title, look you see. on my travels through this world it was so that, recently, i saw another abandoned trolley. well, two of them (2) for precision, but such leads to that whole "trolley" vs "trollies" debate on spelling. 

yet i dare say it is of value that i saw 2 (two) in this instance, for it allows for something of a compare and contrast the fortunes of each. or the fate, if you will. what kind of life, or existence, each has had up to the precise moment i saw them is all rather stark. 

indeed it was a lovely sunny summer day, with a most welcome cool breeze. what better scene to grace such a climate, one may ask, than the sight of the site of two (2) trollies/trolleys. as it is most probably likely you do not need me to point out, one (to the left) would seem to be in more or less the condition that the manufacturers' specification would intend. not so much so with the one to the right. 

exactly what happened to the one on the right is potentially a puzzle. my immediate (or if you will initial) thought is that someone has had a go and burning it, or otherwise killing it with fire. absolutely no idea how one could get so upset by a trolley that they would wish to incur such a cruel fate on it, but there we have it. this is of course if that is indeed fire damage. i am presently of a mind to not rule out it being all rusty. yet there is no body of water relatively near, and i am struggling to consider any reason, good or otherwise, why someone would fish out a rusty trolley from a body of water and then deposit it some distance away. quite likely i am overthinking this one. 

absolutely no value could be gained from some video of two (2) abandoned trollies (trolleys), yet this is what i have added above. well, why not. of course this is in VHS mode, and that "split screen" variation of it, since i don't think i have used it for a bit. 

from a marketing perspective it is so that the knacked trolley on display here would, by interior designer types, get described as being "shabby chic" or (perhaps) even "distressed. quite murky it is in the ambivalent world in which they dwell. i do find it fascinating, yet a little wrong, that some people would be fine trying to sell all busted stuff like this with an "artistic" description. also, to be fair, a streak of despair that there are indeed people who(m) would be stupid enough to part money for such. 

these trolleys (trollies) were indeed on a path. or "pavement", if American. rather fascinating that our friends in America would say "pavement" rather than "path", considering all their efforts in removing perfectly valid vowels from words (judgement, colour, honour, etc) so as to "simplify" their rather curious variation of the language. anyway, moving on, and yes indeed some people did walk past these. of course it was perfect the English way of doing things as they did, either simply pretending they were not there or giving a slight "tut". nothing, that i observed, as extreme as shaking their head at it all. 

more observations as and when i make them, i suppose. very unlikely that they will (at all) be more interesting than this, which i appreciate is quite the statement. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

koala keyrings

g'day

yet another instance of me purchasing something koala related, look you see. there is (really) nothing new here as such, then, just koala stuff. it makes my world a happier place, so i see no real reason to offer apologies for this. 

so i was, as would be usual, strolling around the market one weekend when i spotted a rather rudimentary tin (or similar) filled with keyrings for sale. oddly i felt a (vague) need to get a new keyring, for i returned a "security key" thing for the one verk vehicle i had, leaving my keys for my lodgings in this era of exile feeling somewhat "light" or what have you. 

delight was fair dinkum mine, then, when i saw not not just one, yet also not as many as three (so two, then) keyrings featuring koalas.

and there above you can see them (very much) in action. well, so to speak in action, as it were, for it is not really so that keyrings do all that much in such a regard. oh, they are important things and serve a valuable purpose, but seldom does this involve any movement or motion. 

indeed they (the koala keyrings) have joined other ones i am presently using. the KFC one was a gift off of my sister, ostensibly for my birthday, presented when i was in NZ. the rhino with my occasional name carved into it is from my African adventures. exactly how interested could anyone possibly be in whatever keyrings i have. 

very mindful of this being on the second (2nd) time i have showcased it in a post and, well, i am not all that convinced this new "8 bit" camera thing is any good. the cost of it was 73p, by the way. for a start it really isn't as class as the greater good and glory of the Commodore 64 mode one. well, it shall just have to do, for i cannot find an exact C64 camera app. 

using "regular" pictures means that you can see that the one keyring, also resplendent with a kookaburra and random pink balloon, commemorates the 200th "birthday" of Australia. so that dates it at around, more or less (or if you will approximately) January 26 1988. the idea of a country (or nation) having a birthday is an interesting one, for they were not "born" as such, and existed long before anyone functional elected to give them a name. from what i recall this "birthday" for Australia is simply the date the first load of prisoners turned up to serve time at the penal colony established there. were it so that one still got sent to Australia for stealing some bread, well, it would be tempting. like, how much was bread worth and how rare was it back then? 

quite a lovely (or interesting) touch on the other keyring is the "made in china" sticker on it still. also, i suppose, it's handy that they clarify that they are (indeed) Australian koalas. would be terrible to think they were koalas from any of the many other countries where they are native. not sure on the date provenance of this, but there's no reason to think anything but also circa 88. 

for more (partially) interesting insights into things that i purchase purely because a koala is involved you might well wish to click here. doing so will reveal the wonders of a paperclip thing what i went and gone done bought. 

how would i rate (if not review) these keyrings? it's been a week or so since i became their custodian, and up to now they have very much done all that i have asked of them. 

be fair dinkum to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

september's coming soon

howdy pop pickers

i have, more or less, been meaning to do this time of year specific post for, oh, say seven, maybe eight years now, look you see. just kept "forgetting" to do it. oddly i have "drafted" it in my head a few times over, which is a bit unusual for my rather gung ho approach to things of stuff here. no doubt (or if you will undoubtedly) it shall not, alas, come out at all as well as i had hoped. 

this is all about Automatic For The People, then. an album most (but certainly not all) would consider as being the band's (not sure about that apostrophe) masterpiece, if not "magnum opus". a somewhat similar to U2, then, with The Joshua Tree generally the "go to" for their greatest, whereas many would argue that Achtung Baby is superior, or some (presumably more hardcore) suggesting that The Unforgettable Fire was as good as it got. i am just not as much a fan of REM to argue the case for any of their other records, it is just this one what gets played frequently. 

not that i took to it with any sense of immediacy. far from it, dear reader. quite a lot of my usual meandering sentimental hygiene is coming up in this post, so be warned. roughly, or at a guess, it was only about two decades (or if you like twenty years) after it got released that i came to understand, accept and embrace the album. this is all to do with me either "not being ready" for the content to speak to me, or needing time for it to connect. oh yes, plenty more of what i call "sixth form w@nkery" like that is to follow. 

yes, as you should (more or less) be able to deduce from the above, i have given in and procured another variation on what is called an "8 bit camera" app. nowhere near as class as the most beloved Commodore 64 one what stopped working with phone updates (cheers for that) but this shall jolly well have to do for now. 

what was, for want of a better word, the "issue" with moi and Automatic For The People at the time it got released? i think it came out in late 92, but likely "went massive" across 93. just wasn't interested, to be honest. sure, i had an awareness of the band, as Losing My Religion was a great song, and one they did called Stand was used as a theme for some TV show my brother, sister and i liked. can't even remember the name of it. but Shiny Happy People, resplendent with a video of people wearing baseball caps (or whatever they are called now, think i saw someone call them "lids") sideways, was a a huge massive big "no". reinforced by Denis Leary's take on it. 

from what i recall - and no, my memory is not to be trusted - it will have been Everybody Hurts that i will have heard first off of it. would be fair to say that i didn't pay too much attention at all to what sounded like some astonishing sixth form w@nkery whining on the singing, for i was obviously distracted at how someone had (somehow) gotten away with stealing the music off of Bowie's Rock n Roll Suicide and no one saying so. after that it will (most probably) have been The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite, which was very much just more Shiny Happy People sh!t, so yeah, that's a no. we didn't ever have particularly similar tastes (never, ever mention The Stone Roses to my sister, for a start) but it was always kind of strange that my brother and sister really took to the album strongly. 

softening my approach, or if you will being "open" to the record, was a slow, long process. at some point in the mid to late 90s i heard Nightswimming and was immediately intrigued by it. there was something in it which "struck a chord" or what have you, made an impact. an acceptance, if you will, that i could very much relate to the sentiment of the song. no, not hanging by a creek or river, but that yearning for the past, for friends gone, for being in a different world than the one you remember so very fondly. at the least this was enough for me to purchase some "best of" of theirs that came out, where i believe i discovered Man On The Moon too. had a vague knowledge of the Andy Kauffman story, at the least. joining dots had me considering that maybe i had been hasty to dismiss the album both of those songs had come from. 

brief break from my meandering to look at the "themes". a widely well regarded website, which i won't name, likes to think it is quite good, but (alas) is written by people "full of themselves". in this regard they tend to come up with a great bit of writing (and that is really good) and then just "apply" it to whatever, regardless of if it is correct. to this end, for Automatic For The People, they described it as being "about death, it actively has death as a guest on the album". no, it does not. so (very) close. at heart the album is of loss, of being lost, and longing. different. it's interesting that when the band wrote this they were either approaching or in their 30s. for my generation, and the one before it, we were conditioned to consider 30 as "middle age", that where your life was then was where it would always be, you would have "grown up" and "settled" by that point. none of us had any idea that this had somehow changes. for a (most excellent) companion piece, Robert Smith wrote Disintegration from a virtually identical position. 

above is a picture from inside the Automatic For The People booklet. whilst it is far from being the most flattering image of Michael Stipe, i was (on eventually buying the tape / disc), intrigued by just how astonishing the image "nails" the album. is he breaking the tension of the surface coming up, or is it rather more an acceptance of going under the surface? bravo all involved in this stark image. 

ok, if not already, this is where it is all going to go (totes) sixth form poetical w@nkery. somewhere in the mid to late (think late) 90s "the internet" was a kind of new thing. no "social media" as we know it now, but "forums" and "chat rooms". believe it or not we all used our real names and met up in the real world. moving on and one of the first "internet scandals" i can recall was, and no i am not linking to it, a certain Michael Stipe posting naked pictures of himself on a forum thing, pleading for someone - anyone - to come and be with him. having negligible interest in either the band or naked men (despite what you may have heard) this is strange, it doesn't feel right and many will (correctly) say this is symptomatic of my lack of emotional intelligence, of having no idea what to do with emotions, but my instinct is to (eventually) write that i felt like i ever so slight fell in love with him. 

you really have to recall a time when "celebrities" very much retained an interesting (intriguing) air of mystery to them. we simply didn't know what they did 24/7. rarely thought about it, i suppose, but if we did then it was to assume that they were living amazing, luxurious lives. it hadn't occurred to me that someone like a Michael Stipe could experience the very same dislocation, loneliness, desperation and longing that, to be blunt, i was. so i (kind of) vowed to give this Automatic For The People an actual try, just to see if it resonated or "connected". and, a mere 15 (or so) years later, i picked up a copy and did that. 

ready for some more abstract, arbitrary sixth form level poetic w@nkery? good. quite possibly things like experiencing "art" happen only when you are ready to accept them. when i (eventually) decided yeah, go on, let me hear it all, i was clearly "open" to accepting life consequences and choices. mostly the sound of the album swirled around, bringing to the fore senses of loss experienced and caused, of being lost, and the dislocated sense of longing. or something like that. this album is quite an experience. 

does Automatic For The People belong in the (mostly pointless if not futile) "greatest album of all time" mass debate? not really. whereas there is no absolute clanger like Trip Through Your Wires over on The Joshua Tree, there's a few too many flaws. and no, not just Sidewinder, which (i believe) the band acknowledged was a mistake. something like New Orleans Instrumental is a very necessary "break" for the listening experience between Everybody Hurts and Sweetness Follows, but, you know, still. whereas Ignoreland is a truly brilliant song, there's somewhat of a limitation placed on its relevance by the dating going on it it, and to be fair the complaints about American politics in the 80s do seem rather quaint in comparison to the present day. hasn't aged well. 

regardless, this album is one hell of a listening experience. one which is as compelling as it is uncomfortable, depending on what life you have (up to now) lived and just how much you are prepared to affect (or touch) you. a year or so after this came out there was the "double whammy" of Nirvana releasing In Utero and the Manics releasing The Holy Bible. it is not so that Automatic For The People delves directly into the darkness of those two records, but it certainly opens the door to such, inviting you to consider just how far over the threshold you have been. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

new medical adventure

greetings

so another bout of troubling medical practitioners, look you see. no, though, nothing to do with the existing reasons for doing so, which (of course) can be followed by looking at all the carefully worded links off of this link. just a "one of those things" which developed (or happened), yet somehow got transformed into quite the faff on. 

as usual, then, i would appear to have nothing better to do with all of this than document it here. based on the fact that some of the images of what, exactly, happened would be "graphic" and somewhat upsetting, a mix of censored images and ones generated off of all that "ai" stuff (featuring my two most beloved forms of living creatures) shall be used. unfortunately selfies do feature, so warned you have been. 

much as was the case with the first instance of the ongoing medical quandary (go on then, direct link) it would likely be best to do this "in order", or if you will chronologically. so, here we go. 

SUNDAY

why does this sort of thing (not that sort of thing) always kick off on a sunday? anyway, i was pottering around, doing the usual, being aware that a sort of (kind of) lump had appeared on my upper left arm. part of the arm i now understand to be called the "deltoid", which i am reasonably sure was the surname of a character in A Clockwork Orange, yet the symbolism is lost on me. quite thick, i am. moving on and it was reasonably close to being around a "hole" or mark which i have had on my arm since the late 80s, presumed to be from one of those class inoculation injections we got at school. being honest and every now and then the area around that has swollen in the past (rather than the future), but never caused any discomfort or reason for concern, even allowing for my standard "if you ignore it then it will either mend itself or go away" approach. 

no immediate or obvious reason for concern exists, for it didn't knack or hurt and wasn't all that big, i carried on with whatever my usual is or was. 

quite a few of the images i got Skynet (or whatever) to generate would be more appropriate for later on, but i really can't be bothered to go and make more so here we are. 

MONDAY

uncertain if it was a "subconscious" thing or not (or what have you) when i woke up it did seem that the lump and gotten bigger, if only slightly. yet no pain or discomfort, so just got on with the usual, which of course would be verk stuff. no, i agree, this isn't all that exciting or interesting so (thus) far, but thanks for sticking with it. 

as the day progressed i was aware of being able to "feel" (or sense) the lump all the more, with use of my left arm appearing to become limited if not putting up some resistance.  in a rare moment of being sensible (which one dear friend refers to as being of "the new lee") i logged on to that class NHS app and did their online test thing to see what the issue might be. 

went through all of their questions on it (the app) and the conclusion was that a nurse would be calling me back. this did indeed happen (lovely lady) and after some more questions she more or less agreed with me that it didn't seem to need (or warrant) immediate attention, but (of course) needed an actual examination. so she booked in one of them referral things for the nice people at the clinic where they have been keeping me alive for the last 18 (eighteen) months or so (see above links). 

TUESDAY

by the morning of this day it (the lump) was very much overtly bigger, and was quite red. the redness of it was accentuated by quite the similar shade of red rash which had formed around the non-lump parts, and appeared to be spreading. oh dear. 

saw the doctor, had my blood pressure taken (spoiler warning - i had no idea at this stage exactly how often my blood pressure was going to be measured or what have you over the next 24 hours), and an examination of it. the determination was that it was an abscess (or similar) full of pus and the best thing to do would be to get to something called orthopaedics to get an incision and drain procedure. no real surprise that this department at the nearest hospital declined to answer her call. instead she gave me a prescription for some antibiotics (flucloxacillin, which would be an awesome word in scrabble) and advised me that she'd keep trying the department to get me a referral. fair enough really.  

later on, and yes this is (very much) where, if "it" has wheels, the wheels all fell off, the doctor sent a message saying no response from orthopaedics, so i would need to go to A&E and get them to do the procedure. anyone in the UK will have heard tales of legend of just how much of a nightmare going there is, so i was not all that excited. 

TUESDAY INTO WEDNESDAY

despite being no martyr, and (certainly) not all that interested in sacrificing myself to make tres rich shareholders even richer, i do have a sense of commitment to verk. i was aware i had some reasonably important things to do wednesday. so, with the arm feeling reasonably serviceable, and the lump smarting a bit but not overtly painful, i figured it would be all fine to just do what i needed the next day and then go off for the wonders of optimal inefficiency at A&E. 

yes, no, this did not happen. as i am (so) prone to do at my lodgings in this era of exile, i went to sit by the river momentarily, to engage in a certain habit (sorry). a friend joined me, asked how i was and, despite the laws of the English way of doing things preventing one from ever answering with something other than "fine", told her. she insisted on having a look at the lump (or abscess) and said no, really, i need to go to A&E as soon as possible. well, yeah, having looked again, the rash element was clearly spreading, and the lump (or what have you) was moving from smarting a bit to noticeably sore. 

a young neighbour of mine who(m) is a wonderful lad and always eager to help offered to give me a lift to the nearest A&E. this was very welcome. he has recently acquired a vehicle which he is most enthusiastic about how it can go faster than the speed of light, sound, etc, but i requested that he rather not showcase this. merrily he consented. 

just how inefficient our NHS can be (note, not all the time, i am indeed grateful that they have kept me alive no matter how many disagree with the wisdom of such) was exemplified pretty much on arrival. one is greeted by three (3) windows, "manned" by three (3) people not separated behind the window. with no discernible way of knowing which one to go to i went to one and got told off for going to that one when i "should have know" to go to the other first. did so (after saying sorry), had a chat at that window, got sent to the other other window and then referred to the initial one i went to. brilliant. for the record this was more or less around 9pm. 

so i waited for a while (an hour or so, i lose track) and then someone saw me. they took my blood pressure, which was fair enough despite it being done reasonably recently. i may well be missing out one "consultation" or what have you (reasons for forgetting shall become clear), but as i recall from that look at the lump (abscess) i was to be sent off for an x-ray and then  to a department which i was told was called "SDU" like i knew what, exactly, that was supposed to mean. 

it was within the realms of the x-ray department that i was confronted with just how damned, desolate, depressing and distressed my immediate future was. when i took a seat to wait there was  a lady of some year not (too) far behind me, along with a late teen (or early 20s, maybe) lad, likely her son. after a few minutes wait (which occurred after i rang the bell as instructed to on arrival, only to be told off for pressing the bell as they "knew i was there") the lady said "i cannot stand this any more, just take me home". the gent protested, but she continued, saying quite categorically that she had very much had enough, that everyone dies of something and she would presently rather face that death now than spend any more moments in there. 

upsetting and unsettling to hear anyone speak so, but after just a few moments it was (very) clear as to why her spirit was so crushed. it would seem, based on my (admittedly) limited experience, that the staff of the x-ray department consider themselves a self-styled elite clique. my attempt to register my presence was just the initial contempt displayed. precisely one (1) person was doing any actual work, as in taking x-rays. the others, maybe half a dozen (6) or slightly north of this number, were having a right good time in the staff only section, laughing away, talking loudly and enjoying the fact that they were flaunting how they gave exactly zero (0) f***s about doing that which they are employed to do. for some reason the political answer to how to "fix" the NHS is always throw more money at it. this invariably just gets squandered, just enforcing a sense of responsibilities and/or efficiency would do some wonders. 

easily the biggest waste of money (and time and effort) is the insane amount of "no smoking" signs placed around the entrances to hospitals, be it signs, "warnings" that it is a "smoking exclusion zone" or similar and even painting "no smoking on the path". between transfers i of course elected to step outside momentarily (sorry) and asked where i may go to do so, knowing such rules are in the place. the answer was, categorically, to just go and have one by the front door. because that is what everyone - and very much the staff of the hospital are covered by the use of everyone - just does anyway. 

from what i can recall my time at x-ray was somewhere (potentially just) south of an hour, and i got seen to somewhat sooner than i had anticipated by the one member of staff not involved in the party the rest of the department were having. yes, the lady there (nurse, presumably, or is it radiologist) took my blood pressure (again) and seemed quite pleased with the result of such, despite opting not to share with me what it was. getting my x-ray, or rather x-rays, done was not (alas) easy as, apparently, my "arms were too big" for the machine. quite strange, that. indeed i would suggest i am larger than average, but no, i certainly do not have Schwarzenegger style bulging arms or anything like that. 

with the x-rays done, and my world moving into the wednesday aspect of all of this, off i was sent to the mysterious "SDU" department. via a step outside momentarily (sorry). 

it was to be within the realm of "SDU" that i would learn the true meaning of endurance, that i would experience what it is to be left exhausted, drained and broken by just how inefficient our supposedly brilliant NHS is. anyway, it turns out that "SDU" stands for "surgical decision unit". now that i think (or if you will in retrospect) this should have set off an alarm bell. a doctor had established the issue and come up with the solution, i had been referred there just to get it done. 

overall, or all in, it was four (4) hours i was in the hallowed grounds of "SDU". quite a few staff there too, although rather than have a party they seemed to just wander up and down a bit, doing little. from what i was able to tell there were, eventually, just another 3 (three) prospective patients as well as me, and did we all indeed have to wait. to be fair they did give us (serviceable) coffee and water. my time waiting was spent trying to get some sleep (not bad chairs) and taking a stroll every 45 minutes to an hour or so to be outside momentarily (sorry). 

yes, irrespective of who(m) arrived when, as if by fate i was last to be seen. at no stage did i raise any concern at that, for i was content that my treatment was straightforward and realistically unlikely to be as urgent as that which others needed. still, around 1am (or half past) when one of the people that came in after me was called a nurse took a break from doing a bit of a stroll to tell me that the "specialist doctor" that needed to see me was "stuck" in an emergency operation. i, and i do not feel unreasonably, asked exactly how much of a "specialist" one needed to be to simply make an incision and drain an abscess. this was a question which went unanswered. 

be warned as the next image is (quite) likely to be a distressed selfie. when it got to around 2:30am, or maybe (patience allowing) i asked one of the staff (a nurse, presumably) if i may possibly have another coffee, and also borrow a scalpel or similar sharp implement with which to stab myself so i could be taken to A&E and this "specialist" doctor could get on with seeing me. i got the coffee. 

coming up to around 3:30am i got told that the doctor would see me "now". as long as you accept that in this instance "now" was 15 or so minutes later, whilst he did something. probably wander around a bit aimlessly, for this seems to be the done thing in "SDU". eventually he led me to an entirely empty ward, directed me to the bed at the far (right) corner and made a performance of pulling the curtains around the bed. i suggested that i was perhaps not as modest (or shy) as he may have thought. he kept motioning for me to sit, but kept trying to join me on my right hand side. when he asked why i kept shuffling along i suggested that he might wish to sit (or stand) by my left, since that was the business end, the arm on which the issue was. 

he sort of looked at it briefly, prodded it, took my blood pressure (again) and measured it (which was done before, sorry, forgot to mention and as regular readers know editing doe snot happen here). then he produced a pen, drawing a circle around the abscess and writing the date (which was then wednesday) at the top of it. i did not feel unreasonable asking what, exactly, he was doing that for. he said he wished to see if it would get any bigger. indeed i said well no, it shall not if you just get on with doing the incision and draining thing what i am here for. apparently he was not going to do this, as he "was not sure" that it was an abscess with pus in it. surely, i stated, the doctor who examined it (what felt like a long time ago) and the x-ray clarified that? apparently not, at least not in his opinion. he wished to have it reviewed "in the morning", or rather later in the morning. then a letter would be posted advising of another appointment. this did not fill me with confidence, because if one considers the NHS to be woefully inefficient one really needs to experience the vagaries of Royal Mail and the Post Office. 

appreciating that some (hopefully not all) of you would think i should have rather censored the top left of this picture i (all the same) thought it best to use a tasteful picture of Larry Grayson to cover up the actual abscess, whilst leaving some of the circle on display for you. 

yes, for sure (to be sure) it was tempting to let the doctor experience just how hard i can punch, or call him some names. instead it was, of course, that i followed the rules of the English way of doing things, which effectively was that i thanked him very much indeed for having me be there for north of 7 hours for the issue not to be addressed. off i went home, then, via one of them "uber" things which was quite expensive at that time, but i feared how much a "regular" taxi would be. 

WEDNESDAY

with a (knowing) sense of optimism i set an alarm for 6:30am, retiring to bed just around 4:30. i was fairly certain verk was not going to happen, but there was a chance i might be all right, figuring i could just call a colleague to pick me up. the alarm went off, my arm was really sore, and so i went no, not at all, there is f*** all chance of me doing much of anything. 

oh, sorry, yes. the doctor also said he was going to "prescribe me some antibiotics", which were exactly the ones i already had. i pointed this out, which confused him, and he said he was giving me some more anyway, and that i should just double up the dose. despite (of course) him not being aware of what my current does actually was. so, between 6:30 and, say (around), 7:30am i took pills, drank coffee, had speaks with colleagues, got all the urgent verk i had covered, logged in as absent / sick on our new fangled, awful verk system for such and went back to sleep. pretty sure i did wordle too, but what the answer that day was escapes me. 

just (momentarily) south of 8am, as i was dozing off, i heard my phone ping. on instinct, as is the woeful way of the world we created, i checked it. it was this message. 

see, (some) people think i am exaggerating when i state that the medical profession in England (or the wider UK for all i know) has dumbed down to the point where anything and everything wrong with a smoker is purely because they smoke. whatever merits (or value) there is in the above (and there was certainly no "referral" when i was there, i assume this is automated whenever someone says yes they smoke) it's quite a bit of a kick in the teeth or wherever. as in seven odd hours for them to not fix what i was sent there for but here, we can help you quit smoking, honest. 

all is hazy but i believe (or think) it was just after 9am that i was woken by the sound of my phone ringing. i did not recognise the number, but as a "landline" (or if you will proper phone) was on display i thought it best to answer. oddly enough it was the hospital, for some reason reminding me that i was in there last night and a fair chunk of this (that) morning. apparently "on review" they all of a sudden needed to see me as soon as possible to get it sorted out, but i had to hurry as, and here we go with the efficiency again, they closed at 12 (noon). 

putting on some clothes i made my way to the nearest bus stop. surprisingly, since non-London public transport has been (pretty much) decimated to the point of being useless, a bus heading to the hospital arrived. not using the bus often i asked the driver what was my cheapest option for a return ticket to the hospital. he told me that it was £3 there and £3 back, or £6 for a day ticket. nice one. 

one would think being on a bus (ever so slightly but still) north of two hours before the efficient closing time would see me get there fine. not really, not really, no. somehow, or for some reason, the bus driver managed to take a wrong turn, and had to make a massive detour to "correct" the route. really do wish i was making this part up, but no. so a bus trip of around two (perhaps three) miles took in the region of one standard hour, yet i made it there on time. 

i checked in (just a regular desk, no ridiculous windows) and was advised to wait in the "sub waiting room", since the waiting room was packed. oh, great. whereas there was a quite formidable number of people there not so many were actual patients as such. lots of people would appear to think that a hospital appointment is just one of two birds one can kill with a single stone, the other being "family outing". make no mistake, i understand injured people requiring someone to take them there, and i certainly do not have an issue with children being there (it is school holidays). just, you know, a lady in her mid (to late) 20s there with her parents and one set of grandparents, with the grandfather visibly upset that so many other people had dared to be there, struck me as a bit much. 

not, i am happy to say, too much of a wait in this instance, and a merry lack of tattooed f***wits playing tinny, sh!tty rave music through the tinny, sh!tty speaker on their phone. by not all that much of a wait i do of course mean i was seen (slightly) within an hour, not far off their efficient closing time. 

this is all quite dragging on a bit, isn't it? and here i am assuming you are still with me. quite a bit more to go, alas, but hopefully this isn't all as dull as if, for instance, for some preposterous reason i wrote of visits to things like a car wash or a laundry. 

a different doctor, one who(m) practiced medicine without drawing circles, spoke to me and informed me that i had an abscess on my arm, and that it required an incision and draining. not sure what answer he was expecting (or hoping) for, but i did indeed point out that i was (very much) aware of this and that was why i had spent over 7 (hours) there, only for it not to be done. moving on he said right, let's get you checked in. i asked him to clarify what he meant by "checking in", and he responded that i would be put in a bed on a ward for the night ahead of surgery the next morning (thursday). i assured him that this was not going to happen. 

back in the 70s, likely most of the 80s and (potentially) some of the early 90s it was indeed "the done thing" for certain people to simply spend a lot of time taking up a hospital bed. leaving aside the genuinely ill, all sorts of hypochondriacs, shirkers, workshy types and "people who fancied a bit of a holiday" would merrily stay in a hospital for a week or so, with it al being seen as a bit of a laugh, or some harmless fun.  our population has more or less doubled since then; our hospital capacity has most decidedly not. we all too frequently get reports of patients seriously ill just being left on beds in corridors due to the lack of capacity, so there was absolutely no f****g way i was taking up a bed for something as minor as an abscess on my arm. 

perhaps sensing there was no conversation here the doctor said it would be fine for me to go home, i must not eat after 6pm, drink only water and be back there for 8:30. to clarify (or make clear) i said then you shall do it and i can go home, yes. his answer was yes, but only "after 5 or 6 hours". i asked why so long and he said "because that is how long it takes to recover from general anaesthetic". my response to that was that it didn't need a general anaesthetic, just a local so i could be on my way. he protested, saying that it "would hurt" and doing it that way "would leave me disfigured". once i said i was not worried about some scar and stressed that the "hurt" part was likely less ("fewer") that would be involved if i walked out and went and did it myself at home, he said that if i was certain then they might as well do it right now. i said thank you, that would be lovely. 

a nursing team then came in to do the procedure. having recently watched Marathon Man (and indeed here is the obligatory link) i asked if they were going to repeatedly ask me "is it safe" as they did it. they said no. yes, of course i asked if it would be all right if i had a cigarette whilst they did it (sorry) and they once again said no.

quite a wonderful opportunity was there as i laid and watch them cut into my arm and drain all the gunk. i said that there are 2 (two) theories as to what actually runs through my veins. some say it is pure, black ice, devoid of emotion and can never melt, whereas others are convinced it is just a blend of cigarettes and coffee. the nurse declined to answer. i don't believe she was really used to people being awake, having a look and asking questions as she cut into parts of their body and pulled stuff out. 

the whole thing, once they actually did what they were supposed to, took little more than ten minutes, perhaps at the most (a very Andy Warhol) fifteen. sure i could indeed "feel" them as they cut, pulled and what have you, but it was all numb so not painful at all. and no pain has visited me since. maybe i am just as emotionally heartless as some have observed. 

no, i am (most decidedly) not saying the NHS is all busted, broken, a mess and a disgrace purely on the basis of my experience. i am not all that self-absorbed or egotistical no matter what you may have heard. what i am saying, though, is very similar incidents to mine happen probably at least a thousand times a day in the NHS. leave aside my wasted 7 or so hours. just look at the ridiculous resources they were prepared to waste - a bed for the night, a surgery team and general anaesthetic - for a relatively simple, rudimentary procedure that took minutes. stop thinking that throwing yet more money at it all will fix anything, start asking them to be more better with the billions they have. 

i asked the nurses what, exactly, i should do about a bath or shower, as in would covering the bandage with cling film be sufficient or would it be better to use something more substantial. they looked at me rather like you would have hoped (if the stories are true) the staff at that one hospital should have done so when Sir Jimmy asked for a bit of privacy and a key for the morgue. apparently they were surprised at me wishing to wash, taking it as a given that i would not do so until at least my appointment to have the dressing removed. that appointment is for monday, whereas we were sill (as far as i was aware) very much on wednesday. 

yes, i managed to sort out some cling film around it and cracked on, so to speak. 

strewth, this has been one one (somewhat meandering) post. hopefully not all of it has been oh poor, poor pitiful me, yet i suppose by default (believe me i designed none of this) some if it shall very much be such. 

 

for those interested and a few days later there is no pain, just feels (slightly) tender which i think is what a 9cm gaping wound bandaged up should be like anyway. no, i simply cannot wait for the return to get the dressing changed. surely they can't make that much of a faff on with that one. or can they. 

let me go and consider thinking about how unwise i am in getting all worried that nothing (much) of interest shall happen that i can go ahead and write of here. 

be excellent to each other!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!