I'm in Manchester at the UCAS HE Fair; two days, x-thousand visitors, lots of talking and promoting courses. There are about 200 other universities there too, and it's all very jolly. I've been impressed with the young people up here visiting the fair - sometimes you go to a fair and they're all really shy and won't come up to your stall - but here, they are confident, interested and full of questions. It really is a good feeling when you know you're talking to people who actually care about what they are going to do at uni, and have thought of things they want to know about. Today I had a brilliant young lady who had a long conversation with me about medicine (oh, little does she know, the poor thing). It was clear that she had really researched the different schools, the teaching methods, the career and so on. If I was still in admissions I'd have offered her a place on the spot. (Note: of course I wouldn't, that would be practically illegal).

Anyway - Manchester - impressive would-be students. Impressive Arndale Centre. Cool city. But now it's time to rest my aching feet and prepare for another day tomorrow.

TV tears

This evening I watched 'The Strangest Hotel in the World', a programme about Foxes Hotel in Minehead. It's a hotel academy for young people with learning disabilities to learn not just practical skills but also how to live independently, working in the fully functioning hotel whilst gaining qualifications.

I don't know how to articulate how amazing this scheme is, and how much I admire the two 'old bats' (as they called themselves) who set it up. It's just beyond words. I urge everyone to watch this programme if it comes back again, and to leave everything they own to it in their wills. :) It is amazing and if I could achieve even a quarter of what any of the people involved have done, I'd be very proud.

The Spanish wear their colours

We noticed in Spain that there was a considerable quantity of beige wearing. At first it was a joke between us but gradually, the more we travelled around, the more we realised EVERYONE WEARS BEIGE. I'm talking, top and bottom, and shoes and shirts, and scarves and jackets. It's like a little beige army. We even made up a little song, 'browny beigey clothes DING DING', which I think could be a number one by Christmas. But we also noticed a prediliction for orange, green and red, not usually all together, although we did spot a man wearing beige AND lilac together, which, for the more fashion conscious amongst you, is not a combination I recommend.

Then we found this shop and it all became clear!

By the way, if you have a few hours spare and want to look at more beige related pictures you can view them at my flickr

You thought it was over. No more stories about chickens.

Well; it was. But now there's a tragic postscript. Margie, our chicken who we rehomed, got taken by a fox at her new home last night. Needless to say, foxes don't take prisoners so we can assume she's been eaten.

RIP Margie and RIP Carmella :(
Missing you both.

Rug rogues or thick tourists?

Nueva entrada - I'm doing this in Spain. Jerez to be precise, or Sherrish as I like to call it (and as it was known to the Brits a couple of centuries ago). This is the last day of our holiday which has also taken in Seville, Vejer de la Frontera, Tarifa and Tangiers, where we were predictably ripped off and parted from several large value notes. The picture above is part of the story. If I can forget for a moment my own stupidity and loss of cash, then it was a fascinating insight into human psychology - mostly our own. Those guys are good at their game - and we were idiots. On the plus side we do have a gorgeous hand made [mass produced, or made by exploited children] silk [possibly rayon] high quality [for a couple of years at least] naturally dyed [with toxic chemicals] rug [ok, it is a rug]. A happy memory with which to furnish our new house.

I'm not bitter though. It was interesting, and an experience which the majority of tourists to this strange, wild, damaged city have - and the rug is quite nice.

Last chicken picture ...

Today we rehome Margie, who has now been on her own for two weeks and looking very doleful. She is going to Upminster to the home of a very kind Reverend and his family, who have offered to add her to their two existing chickens. It's going to be a very sad day in our household and I am bolstering all my emotional strength to say goodbye to chicken keeping for a while. The next few months are going to be hard enough, juggling giving notice, finding a job, purchasing a house and moving north all in a very short time, so I guess it's for the best.

Mind you, we have to catch her and get her in a box first, which could take all day, or week. She's an agile little creature. Nothing quite so amusing as watching people trying to catch chickens.

Just to say: there were nine people. And it took me several hours each way to get there. And I had to listen to a very long and quite boring presentation given by a large breathless man. A good presentation does not last for one hour, imho.

Hilarious. I am speaking at a conference tomorrow, which (when held previously) attracts a couple of hundred of people. I've been somewhat worried about this for a while because I'm doing the talk on behalf of someone else, and as such, there are some areas of expertise I don't have but must still mention. My worst nightmare is being asked a question to which I don't know the answer, although this is considerably less daunting when coming from my usual audience of 17 year olds. This event is for adults.

Yesterday I rang the organiser to find out about the venue, and she told me that in fact, she was about to cancel the event, because there are only 13 people coming ... Well, this and the predictions for a hundred feet of snow can only mean one thing; it's all going to go pear shaped anyway.

Spring is coming and everything changes

What a beautiful weekend it's been - in weather terms. Normally I would find the feel of the sun and the light so uplifting, but I've been fraught about my poor remaining chicken. As you can see above, she's been trying to find her little companion. Actually, I'm sure this isn't quite true, and I am guilty of anthromorphising, but one chicken is definitely a lonely sight to behold. If all goes well, in a way, this week I will rehome her with someone who has other chickens, and we will go without for a while till we have moved north. I know it seems absolutely barmy being this soft on chickens but you wouldn't believe what chatty, funny little friends they are and especially when OH is working long shifts or nights. I will miss them so much, but I suppose it means I'll write about something else for a change.

The sky fell in on Chicken Licken

Carmella sadly had to be put to sleep last night. A strange euphemism but true in this case, with a large dose of anaesthetic, to remove her from what appeared to be suffering. I'm gutted. Meanwhile our remaining chicken, Margie, looks very lonely today. Maybe we will get some more, maybe not.

The secret is now out - we're moving to Birmingham. I'm leaving my job, my other half is leaving his job as a doctor, we're leaving our house and moving up there.

Blame MMC. Mutilating Medical Careers; Major Medical Cockup; whatever you want to call it. Thanks Patsy. Thanks Tony. Thanks BMA for sod all. Thanks all the other doctors who haven't stood up for their junior colleagues.

Needless to say, this upheaval pales into insignificance compared to our chicken loss. :(