A life quite ordinary

I love my new work mates

2008-01-07T16:33:00.000Z

Working at the University of Birmingham means I get to work with the loveliest, funniest, most handsome and beautiful colleagues in the land of schools liaison. There's Thom, a young hunk of raw manhood; Carolyn, a delicate and pretty flower; and Ansar, the epitome of talent and masculinity. They're great. I love them. Coming to work these days is like looking forward to a fabulous holiday in some kind of paradise. I often find myself skipping with joy on my journey to work, and at the end of the day it's so hard to leave them behind.

Ahh.

Reading material

2008-01-04T18:10:00.000Z

Anyone interested in politics (particularly the last decade of British politics), but also who likes reading, should have a go on this: The Ghost by Robert Harris. I've never read him before but this is compelling ... see it here

New Year, new blog

2008-01-02T09:32:00.000Z

This is a lovely Christmas house near us in Brum. Mmmm.

Well. That was 2007. Not very successful in terms of blogging; perhaps I will try harder this year. Even reading back to my first entries makes me cringe though. Better when I don't write about myself really :) ... fat chance of that happening though. Which is why I found it so easy to give up making entries ...

It's the 2nd of January 2008. I was being a bit reflective yesterday - thinking about the year 2K as we all said, how eighties! - and all the hullabaloo there was about the end of the century, and the so-called inevitable collapse of all software - which never happened. Funny to think that was 8 years ago and I was a mere 32 with no idea what the next few years would bring - an acrimonious separation and a life of moving and changing jobs after years of being settled in London. I didn't predict that my ex (who never wanted children with me) would go on to have children with someone else. I didn't predict that at 40 I'd still have none. I especially didn't predict moving to Birmingham - a place that wouldn't have crossed my mind in my lifetime I think if circumstances hadn't made it happen.

I have to say though that Birmingham is great. Full of interest and character, and not being the financial centre means it's still got its own communities and isn't filled with yuppy like (ooh, there's the eighties again) people just trying to make money and move on. It's less crowded, it's historic, it's interesting and in social flux, it's mixed economically, socially, industrially. It's emerging. It's attractive and ugly and fascinating. It's like London was for me when I first got there. And we were able to buy a house here, which was out of the question in London.

On the subject of London though, can I just recommend the video (available widely in trainspotter shops) of the 'Driver's Eye View of the Northern Line', which is wicked. Christmas present bonanza!

Cider kegs and farmers' legs

2007-09-10T18:02:00.001Z

I have leg problems today. I blame it on the cider I drank yesterday at the Ludlow Food Festival - something called Foxwhelp (or some such) served by a man with a beard up to his eyes. Shortly after this my legs lost rigidity and they haven't recovered.

Saw the lovely folk from Fordhall farm at the fair and bought their books about the fight they have gone through to keep their farm (in the family for 700 years) from the developers and the neighbouring Muller factory. A real 'power to the people' story. Well done you Hollins'. If you are interested in finding out more about them have a look here.

Something sparkly for Sunday night

2007-09-02T20:48:00.001Z

The first time I've had 'Eek - Monday morning' feeling for a while. Start new job tomorrow - wish me luck. Will gaze at this lovely sparkly thing to take my mind off the nerves.

Vegetating?

2007-08-30T12:20:00.000Z

I have been quite bad at this blog lark recently, but life hasn't been at its most exciting what with being out of work for a while. Here's a quick update on events over the last two months:

* I was 40 - all I have to say is that post-event is better than pre-event
* My mum was 60 - and still looks 20 years younger
* We got an allotment (not me and my mum; me and the other half), the produce of which you see above
* Our mortgage rate went up a hundred times and we got increasingly poorer. Soon we will have to live only on current allotment produce: beans, potatoes and beetroot. Our house will not be fragrant.
* We had visits from both sets of parents (or 2/3 sets - there are step parents on both my mum's and dad's sides), a couple of friends, brother-in-law and girlfriend, and an unexpected stay of other half's boss during the floods in Worcestershire
* I wallpapered, stripped/filled/painted and generally DIY'd my way round the house, not all of it successful and much of it unfinished ...
* I was interviewed for, and offered a job, which starts next week
* We went to one wedding, one birthday party, the Big Chill, the dentist (combined 4 times), two car servicings and a summer garden party
* Other half passed MRCP Part II

Meanwhile, the weeds grow and we hoe and watch the foxes prowling round the lottie. The mind is at peace.

A lovely day out

2007-07-20T11:55:00.000Z

I had a wonderful day yesterday with my friend Cheryl, whom I've known for 7 weeks only but who is fabulous and great fun to be with. We ate at a vegan/vege place in Brum, the most yummy food, walked around the Bullring feeling bloated, chatted and had a really lovely time. In the course of 10 minutes in the shopping centre, I was offered eyebrow threading and a 2 minute makeover - I'm not sure what this is saying about me. However, this friendship is the one good thing to have come out of recent times and makes me feel slightly more positive about it all.

On a less reflective note, I've got an interview on 1 August, which is great news. That and my tax rebate are just about keeping me in the style to which I've become accustomed (sequin curtains - regardez the beauty). Since almost all my rebate will go on my share of the mortgage it seemed churlish not to get these when they were half price.

Something had to go wrong

2007-07-17T10:10:00.000Z

With all that change - moving, leaving and starting jobs, going on holiday and getting quite ill, something had to go wrong. I can't really reveal what happened as that might be deeply unprofessional but something gave and now I'm much happier, although with a diminishing bank balance. It's always been important to me to work for a living and now I am having to adapt to spending a lot of time at home. This is all good given that there is DIY to be done - but being at home is unfamiliar territory for me.

Getting used to Harborne and Birmingham; still feels a long, long way from London and Essex. Things are different up here in so many ways, and I miss our lovely neighbours in Felsted, the church bells, Sellotape Man on his bike and the chafing call of pheasants in the morning.

Coming up roses

2007-06-08T11:17:00.000Z

The 'getting better' feeling seems to have stalled today. C'mon Amoxy, do your stuff!

The roses in our garden are lovely; proper old English roses with buzzloads of bumblebees to boot. They all sound very nasal; perhaps this is a consequence of the virus that has stricken bumblebees?

2007-06-07T13:19:00.001Z

I'm still off sick but rather than go on about that, how about this - our resident squirrel who has now emptied two bird feeders full of peanuts. I bet he is sitting in the tree stroking his overfilled belly and feeling a bit flatulent.

2007-06-05T13:25:00.000Z

I started my new job yesterday. A day during which I should have been feeling excited about all the new challenges and things to learn - but instead I was concentrating on trying not to cough, wondering if the sheen of sweat on my face was noticeable and attempting levels of concentration inconsistent with seven nights of disrupted, coughing sleep. Today I took a decision not to go to work in the hope that if I sleep lots and don't move, don't do anything, I might crack this. Sick on my second day in a new job. This is a previously unplumbed depth. Please please let it be worth it!

2007-06-03T12:48:00.000Z

I've got bronchitis, which is handy, the day before I start my new job. I haven't been this sick since I had whooping cough age 13. This morning I frightened my other half who thought I'd given myself a pneumothorax (actually had just pulled some muscles from excessive coughing ... at least we think so). I am really really sick of the sound of myself, and the sight of tissues, and the horrible congestion first thing in the morning and at night. Very unhappy. What a way to start a new job.

Birmingham Belle

2007-06-01T13:25:00.000Z

This was actually the title of a Mills & Boon book I saw at our hotel on holiday last week. I am not claiming to be a Birmingham Belle, although I am most definitely now in England's second city and I'm a lot more belle-like than our fellow tourists were.

In the last few weeks I have left my job in London, packed up a 4 bedroom house, moved 150 miles, gone on holiday, unpacked a 4 bedroom house into a three bedroom house with very little space and started preparing for my new job, which starts on Monday. I'm a little bit tired and more than a little bit unwell as body finally realises there is time for a small collapse. Please get better by Monday though.

This picture shows the end of our new garden, which as you can see, features two ceramic chickens. If I can't have the real things here (and I probably can't) then these will have to do for the short term, but the eggs won't be favourable.

Old people talk to you in the street here - but may or may not be involved in OAP mafia. They are observant little buggers and so far we've given out information about ourselves that we would not have told anyone remotely burglar like (I think we are about to be taught a lesson about assumptions). One of them has even offered us use of her garage for our second car. Whether this is related to a protection racket is anyone's guess ...

Our house is beginning to look slightly more inhabitable and less like a storage depot. It's starting to feel quite good but already our mortgage has increased - only our second payment coming up and already an increase of £50. Incredible. But then I remember how much we spent on rent last year - almost £17k - and it seems more worthwhile to actually be paying for something we own. Or will do one day when the bank deems it appropriate :)

Please stop driving 4x4s

2007-05-14T20:48:00.000Z

If anyone is watching 'Driving me Crazy' tonight, and isn't already opposed to these stupid immense tanks driving on flat, straight roads, then this programme would convince you, I'm sure. Watching a Range Rover plough, quite literally, through a car in a simulated crash, tells you everything you need to know. I just don't see any justification for these vehicles.

2007-05-07T20:08:00.000Z

This is me at five years old. My childhood was not straightforward in any way, shape or form. I was often lonely and outcast by other kids because my upbringing was unconventional and marked me out. But I was free and I was mostly safe. No strangers tried to take me. I didn't get lost and I knew who to trust. I find it very hard to understand why someone would take a little three year old girl. I am hoping above hope that Madeleine McCann gets back to her family safely.

Putting your vote where your mouth is?

2007-05-03T17:25:00.000Z

I voted today in our local elections. Essex has a very interesting political make up - largely blue on the voting maps with the occasional splash of yellow. Red just doesn't feature here. Our village is decorated largely with conservative flags proudly displayed in front gardens, including a huge one in a field just as you drive into the village bearing the word 'CONSERVATIVES'. I have been suppressing the urge all week to preface this at midnight with the words 'WE'RE NOT ALL ...' but I have serious village related paranoia about doing anything untoward here. Sellotape man might get me.

And indeed, on my voting slip today, only 4 candidates - two conservative, two liberal. I'm sad that I don't get to vote therefore for the brilliantly named Mebyon Kernow. I suppose I'd have to be Cornish for that.

The illusion of grandeur

2007-04-29T13:34:00.000Z

Last night we went to dinner with 200 other people at the Savoy, to celebrate the other half's boss's wedding anniversary. It was a merry occasion full of lovely people; and not just medics, which was nice for those of us who are not members of that hearty profession. I was seated next to a large overbearing gentleman who introduced himself as "Old and Grumpy" and who was indeed both of those things. Turns out he was a former surgeon at our local hospital, and a rugby fan. Those in the know will get an idea of the kind of man this made him. He referred to himself for most of the evening as 'One', as in "One didn't realise Clare College admitted girls" and so on. It certainly was one of the more challenging conversations I've had to maintain, not least because he seemed to lapse in and out of deep depression during dinner.

The Savoy is, like so many of these historic London institutions, maintained in period, but staffed by people who don't speak English. This makes for a rather odd juxtaposition in which the illusion of old English grandeur and snobbery is contradicted by the fact that like everything else in Britain, they've capitulated to the cheapest form of labour. The illusion is shattered.

Essex beauty

2007-04-27T17:45:00.000Z

I feel quite sad tonight. Coming home seeing the changes in the landscape here, first on the train, and then in the car, brings it all home to me how beautiful this county is - and I've lived in a lot of counties; one that doesn't even exist any more too! The fields of rape, brilliant acidic yellow against the intense green of the new leaves on the trees. The dappled sunshine on fields of crops. Peaceful horses grazing in the late evening sunlight. It strikes me how contented everything looks from a train window - nothing seems violent, or hateful, or miserable on a late sunny afternoon through the speeding window of a train.

And at home - cherry blossom out, the pond in full tadpole glory, the blackbirds singing and sparrows darting in and out of the hedge. Bulbs I planted last year coming back up this year. Bluebells shyly peeping from the shadows at the end of the lawn, a striking blue against the darkness.

I will be so sad to leave here. It's been three years since we left London and I've never wanted to go back to a city - but now I will be. I hope I can cope.

Fashion blues

2007-04-25T18:41:00.000Z

How quickly time flies and the gaps in my blogging get longer. I've been at a lot of HE fairs recently. Seems like I've spent weeks watching identikit girls and boys (girls: vests, layers, belts, leggings, "that blue top"; boys: anything with labels on, and lots of hairstyling) shuffling by the stand. They are mostly nice when being engaged, but the odd ones are incredibly rude with that kind of 'showing off in front of friends' behaviour that makes me feel sort of wise and ancient in a strange way. I'm sure I did exactly the same kinds of things once upon a time although I was never as fashionable, it has to be said. My idea of fashion at that age left a lot to be desired, but that was also the result of being stuck in the middle of nowhere in Scotland and surrounded by hippies. One of my pinnacle moments involved a Laura Ashley dress, cowboy boots, purple hair and strings of purple beads. It is a moment that has survived in photographic form, unfortunately. I distinctly remember thinking I was *pretty* hot. So far be it from me to criticise others, but a change from high street look would be welcomed. Even the goths look better.

Meanwhile, in pictures, here's one I took of a peacock last weekend. Seems appropriate.

Pollen woes

2007-04-12T10:50:00.000Z

Essex is covered in rape flowers and they are in full blossom right now. It looks beautiful from the train - fields of green and acidic yellow. Unfortunately the stuff stinks and also causes respiratory havoc. It's not helped by having a whole field of the stuff backing right on to our garden. This is life in the countryside; although I work in a polluted city, it's out here that my breathing gets troubled. I wonder what will assail the old bronchioles in Brum.

A new house, a new town, a new job

2007-04-08T17:48:00.000Z

Well, it's been a hectic little period, hence no postings. We've got a new house (and here it is) in Birmingham. Amazingly smooth and hassle free purchase and now ours in return for a sizeable portion of our monthly salaries. This weekend we picked up the keys and camped out on an airbed, eating pizzas off the floor (not literally of course) and acquainting ourselves with a new location. Birmingham is dominated by roads, and scary driving prospects, and I'm not sure I will ever have the courage to do it. Meanwhile, I had two job interviews last week, necessitating a 5am start both days and an additional 5am start mid-week for our College open day which attracted a greater number of visitors than ever - several thousand. My first interview didn't go that well, and by the time of my second interview on Thursday, I was a jibbering wreck. Luckily that seemed to be what they wanted, because I was offered the job and accepted. So - here I come Coventry Uni.

Despite everything going relatively swimmingly, I am experiencing occasional quite large doses of anxiety. But when I think about everything that's going on - holding down a current job, applying for jobs and being interviewed, buying a house, plus the usual day-to-day stuff, I suppose it's not surprising.

The cost of being a student

2007-03-21T20:18:00.000Z

Today we had an open meeting on marketing at our university. It is slightly disheartening that all our very labour intensive work with schools, teachers, parents and careers advisors may all be rendered entirely pointless in the face of the removal of the cap on tuition fees in 2010. We know already that several universities are discussing raising fees to £15k, minimum. We know that we can't do this (and wouldn't want to price any potential student out of our courses). But it does make me incredibly uneasy. The picture of UK university education in three years' time is going to be unrecognisable to us Brits.

The end of another week: ahhh.

2007-03-16T19:17:00.000Z

What a funny week, again. I was at the Hereford & Worcester HE Fair this week, which entailed travelling up the night before. As the event clashed with the Cheltenham races, and I was late booking a hotel, I couldn't stay in Worcester itself, but I had booked a B&B inn place in what turned out to be the middle of nowhere in a possibly idyllic (I don't know, I didn't see any of it) village with the unlikely sounding name of Upton Snodsbury. One of the downsides of this kind of thing is that you have to then sit and have dinner on your own in a hotel or restaurant - I don't know which is worse - and that indeed is what I had to do. Hence Tuesday night found me sitting in a massive pub conservatory, alone, on my wicker/chintz cushion chair, gazing out of the window on to the A422, and feeling very lonely. The chair was so high my feet didn't even reach the ground, so I was perched uncomfortably with my chin in the goat's cheese tart. That was all ok, because I was alone. However, shortly after my tart arrived, so did three London lads, "happy" after a day's racing. Cue racist jokes, lairy behaviour and sidelong looks at the bird.

I had a very, very early night on Tuesday.

Sick of the sound of my own voice

2007-03-08T16:59:00.000Z

This week I've done nine talks, spent two days at an HE fair, travelled from Luton to Crystal Palace to Camden to Dulwich to Hendon, and back and forth to home of course. I've spent a night with a friend in Finchley, and the morning on her floor with her one year old son playing with building blocks, before going to talk to 18 year olds who are, one assumes, beyond that stage of their lives. I have talked to careers advisors, teachers, students, parents and occasionally the odd man on a bus. I am completely tired of hearing my own voice spouting on and on about student life, finances, medicine and personal statements. I hope no-one else is as bored of my talks as I am! Meanwhile, shout out for Luton VI Form, Alleyns School, Brampton College, La Sainte Union and everyone who came to Crystal Palace. Now I must rest in peace.

Revising my neurology

2007-03-05T19:43:00.000Z

I've got sinusitis. It feels like this. I'm not happy. It's been a week and it's not getting any better. Today I did a talk at Luton VI Form, and tomorrow I have to do 4 talks at South East London HE Fair. The following three days I have to do a talk a day. Sinusitis is not conducive to any of this. Sad. The only benefit is that I get to try to remember which cranial nerve might be affected, but I can't actually remember.

2007-02-28T19:54:00.000Z

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

2007-02-26T21:40:00.000Z

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

2007-02-22T19:11:00.000Z

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

2007-02-21T19:35:00.000Z

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?

2007-02-18T08:50:00.000Z

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 ...

2007-02-11T07:50:00.000Z

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.

2007-02-10T19:55:00.000Z

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.

2007-02-07T18:59:00.000Z

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

2007-02-04T16:11:00.000Z

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

2007-02-01T15:52:00.001Z

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. :(

2007-01-30T21:41:00.000Z

Five days between postings isn't good enough, even if I have very few fans. But I have a secret that can't yet be told - ooh, seven magpies - even if it's total paranoia on my part to think anyone I know might read my blog. Let's just say brum brum. All will become clear very soon.

Meanwhile, back to daily life, I've done two medical interview sessions this week. It's a very small sample size to base any views on, but I can't help feeling that the UKCAT as a primary selector for medical applicants is not necessarily picking out the right people. But two sessions is not enough to make any judgements and in any case, this is no longer my business. It is hard to step back. This time around though, having watched other half go through junior medicine, I no longer feel that a rejection is such a bad thing - it seems to me that I'm simply saving them from a life of misery that none of them can currently comprehend.

2007-01-25T20:14:00.000Z

It's my sister's 17th birthday today. Happy Birthday Irial!! I have two sisters, well, technically half sisters, but since two halves make a whole let's just split the difference.

As you can tell, I am not necessarily entirely of this planet today. But I did hear today of at least one person who reads my blog and even enjoys it, so I must continue and with renewed vigour, following a week of thinking, why bother. The really weird thing about blogs is (a) why does it matter whether anyone is reading it or not and (b) if it doesn't matter, then why does it bother me not knowing if anyone reads it? and also (c) why DOES anyone write a blog? In my case it was partly to give vent to all the thoughts that churn around with nowhere to go, but recently I've decided to stop having thoughts, and also, so much of what I think about would compromise my job or the people I meet if I actually wrote about it. Well, that's assuming of course, that anyone reads it. Oh dear, we're back to square one.

I read an academic paper today on which two of the authors were called Squares. Really. As in S Squares and D Squares. Hilarious. I hope they haven't named any of their children after mathematical equations.

Meanwhile, my sister, my lovely glamorous sister, is shown in the picture above. Ain't she gorgeous?

2007-01-19T18:27:00.000Z

Travelling by public transport this week has only been surpassed by the misery of travelling by car, especially if you were on the M11 yesterday. The camaraderie created by train delays caused by freak weather is amazing though, particularly on my line, where the modus operandi is something akin to being stuck in a carriage with several Jade Goody-like characters. All using their phones.

Also, rather excitingly, I travelled almost the entire length of the Metropolitan line today, missing only the very last stop. Actually, it was not at all exciting. It was slow and cold and late and there was a horrible stinky fish smell, the schoolkids were screaming and stuffing their faces with crisps and I was half a bloody hour late for my talk at Watford Girls' Grammar School. They were very lovely and very forgiving, but goddamit, I hate being late for things. It also meant I didn't get to show them my gorgeous presentation which I have slaved over for a week and which culminated in the most insane picture of Tony Blair. Boo.

Afraid of the dark

2007-01-15T20:24:00.000Z

January blues. Feel down although not as bad as poor old Shiny Happy Person for whom I feel depths of sorrow and realise how hard it must be to feel that way when nobody except other sufferers really knows what it means. Feeling for you SHP from across the cyber waves. Waves?

No, mine is more a generalised boredom with what life offers at the moment, which is ironic because for one reason or another, things are about to get unpredictable and potentially exciting. But this is all waiting in the wings for now and I'm being impatient. Something else that is hiding in the wings is the inevitable 'moving house' situation, which as partner to a junior doctor, is one of those annoying side effects of a career in medicine. If I never have to pack and unpack again after this year I'd be a happy woman, although clearly that will not be the case.

It's just January, isn't it? January is shit, whatever way you look at it. Getting up in the pitch dark, and coming home in the only-just-less-than-pitch dark is not right; it's not good for our little souls. And the chickens aren't that keen either.

Blimmin' 'eck, I forgot to make any resolutions

2007-01-11T20:18:00.000Z

I did, you know. I didn't even think about those stupid old new year's resolutions until I heard something on the radio tonight about them. Fancy that. I must say it's a bloody relief not to have gone through that idiotic, annoying process, where you rack your brains for some habit to change, and then on finding one, fail to do so.

But I suppose if I was going to do anything differently, I'd try to be a bit more kind in situations don't lend themselves to it. That's the kind of thing I aspire to. I must try to remember this thought next time I'm stuck behind a TWATTY20MPHDRIVER on the A130. All we need is love. And a lot of patience. And a recollection of what could happen when you overtake twatty20mphdriver. Oh, and, don't forget the horrific fatal accident you passed on the M40 on new year's day. This is what can happen. In fact, my resolution might be to stop driving, which in turn means giving up work. C'est la vie.

Cardboard coffin and talk of boffins

2007-01-10T12:18:00.000Z

RIP Joan Lydia Harvey, buried yesterday in a cardboard coffin in a woodland burial site in Scotland. Paying tribute to her were an assortment of family members and past friends and lovers, reminding us of her extraordinary life during which she knew (amongst many others) the likes of Francis Crick and Fred Hoyle. Not only did she know them but they regularly visited her humanist 'bunfights' in the caravan in which she lived with my mother and my mum's two siblings in Cambridgeshire. Joan also rode a motorbike well into her sixties, travelled far and wide, often alone, in her 'Ambly' (a converted 1950s ambulance), attended the very first anti-nuclear demonstrations in the 50s, brought up three children practically by herself and with a great deal of imagination financially, and influenced a great number of people on the issues of cooperative living, humanism, pacifism and anarchism. As I've implied before, her and I had a difficult relationship, but everyone, myself included, respected and admired her resolution and determination to stick with her principles. She did not suffer fools gladly - nor people with whom she saw no point in befriending - but she was perhaps the most honest person I'll ever have known. Bon voyage, Joan.

If only chickens could have chicken soup

2007-01-07T17:52:00.000Z

Carmella has been off colour for weeks, culminating with a temperature of 41 degrees on Thursday. Hot, even for a feathery animal. With human patients a dose of chicken soup usually does wonders, but this is one medicine we can't offer to her. Finally we seem to have fixed it with a course of antibiotic jabs and things are finally looking up. Here's a couple of pictures of the chickens, wet in yesterday's downpour. Chicken obsessive, coupled with a camera ... there will be no end of chickporn now.

Word up for Jessops

2007-01-06T19:05:00.000Z

I was going to show you the poem I've written for my gran's funeral (I've been asked to say something at it) but it's really rather uncomplimentary and I won't be able to use it. Try as I might I can't find a positive thing to say - which is not because there weren't funny things about her (I can't really say there were nice things, so funny will have to do), but they all stem from something awful. For example, I used to have a name for her which related to the way she grubbed about in her kitchen and slammed doors at 6am every morning. It was an amusing name, but not one which would really fit as a tribute.

So instead, I'm going to big up Jessops, because today they excelled in their service to me in a way that restores faith in all things corporate. I got a beautiful digital SLR for Christmas, a fantastic gift as I'm mildly obsessed with photography. It was incredibly expensive, and perfect, until I dropped it on the road that very same day, causing a couple of scrapes and breaking the integral flash. OK, integral flash is crap but .. it was BRAND NEW. So today we took it back. Shop man noticed the grazes - "I'm a bit worried about these marks" - and asked if the flash had ever worked. We kind of flanneled ... "It might have done for a day or so" ... thereby not entirely lying but neither admitting culpability, with our fingers crossed. The man tried out the camera, silently removed the battery and memory card, went out back and got a brand new body, refitted it all and handed it over to us, with not another word. Nice, nice, lovely Mr Jessop. I am impressed.

I realise that a story about Jessops isn't that exciting but it was better than my bitter poem, honestly.

This pictures is one taken on New Year's Eve with said camera. This is my sister and three of her teenage friends writing '2007' with sparklers. It was an exceedingly long exposure obviously. The kind you can only do on an expensive camera.

Mothers and daughters

2006-12-27T09:51:00.000Z

On Christmas day, my maternal grandmother had a large stroke; her 5th at least. She's been in a nursing home for a couple of years now and to be honest, we have all hoped that she will have a quick and painless exit from this situation. She's been a lifelong supporter of voluntary euthanasia and had written a living will, but as we all know, providing someone with the means to choose and enable their own death, is not yet permissable in our society. My grandmother was a strong, firm and mostly difficult and unpleasant woman, who exerted a great deal of influence on both my mother and myself. She was often cruel, and never gave my mother the love she deserved. When my mother was ten and her stepfather was killed in an accident, my grandmother repeatedly declared her intention to "kill herself and take them all with her". It is safe to say that we have never been a close family largely as a result of her behaviour throughout all our lives. But all of this simmering resentment, past horror and unforgiven behaviour pales against the sight of an old woman sitting in a nappy, flopping in her chair, eating mush off a plastic plate with a plastic spoon, who is surrounded only by the demented and lonely inmates of the nursing home. My grandmother has ended up where she least wanted to be. She made her wishes known, her whole life. But all we are allowed to do is to watch her slowly deteriorate - made perhaps worse because it is only physical and not mental - and hope that something, anything, will put her out of her (and us; let's be honest about this) out of our misery. Is this the way we want to see our parents, our grandparents - ourselves?? We choose not to see the forgotten population in nursing homes, but it's there, and it's coming for us.

The end of my academic year

2006-12-22T16:54:00.000Z

Work is over. Pimms Winter Warmer is in the hand. Frank's singing. All is well with the world, as long as you don't look out of the door or turn on the TV. It's easy to ignore it all when you live in the country.

What is less easy to ignore is the slightly scary christmas related visitors who come to your door. Last night there was an almighty cacophony in the street, which turned out to be Santa On A Lorry - I know the picture's crap but if you imagine this really hard, you'll see it. It was actually Santa, On A Sled, On A Lorry. With 100 decibels of SANTA CLAUS IS COMING TO TOWN. If that's not enough to frighten you into making a donation to the scary man on your doorstep (who doesn't look too happy that you're taking pictures) I don't know what is.

What are the Rotary Club all about anyway - and why do I feel like I've just funded something illicit / fascist / terrorist? I know they claim to be about community and promotion of peace and understanding of the world, but honestly, their collectors don't look that peaceful or understanding. They all seem to read the Daily Mail, for a start.

2006-12-19T21:05:00.000Z

I bloody love this site. Anyone resident in East London will especially appreciate this bit.

You get what you pay for?

2006-12-17T16:50:00.000Z

One of my little chickens, Carmella, shown here in rather fetching apparel, has been ill for a week. She started off limping and then went 'off legs' yesterday, and couldn't stand. We rushed her to the vet - blue lights all the way - difficult to do a 45 minute journey fast with a chicken in a basket on your knees. (I realise now how wrong it was to put her in a basket - sounds like something you might get for lunch in Mile End).

The vet's surgery is everything you'd want in any health service provider. Clean and cheerful, professional staff, stacks of information, code of conduct, prices displayed, readily available medicines, clear prices and outline of services. The vet was polite, thorough and was neither dismissive or reduced to laughter by our unusual pet and ailment. She did a proper examination, asked questions and listened to the answers, and then gave advice and treatment. It cost £15.

OH said to me "This is better than anything you experience in the NHS". Well - you pay for it - so perhaps that's understandable. But such a shame to return to our beloved NHS, the beleaguered NHS and realise how far from any of this it will ever be.

Hospitals of the future?

2006-12-15T11:56:00.000Z

I love this. The government’s inspection of NHS financial management has concluded that there has been a ‘failure of financial management’ with ‘evidence of inadequate monitoring and an absence of financial control’. Try telling this to the people of Chelmsford and environs, where the hospital which deals with paeds, maternity and GU medicine was sold (£5million) to help pay for the PFI at the main hospital (PFI already under construction). The Chief Exec then accounted for this income twice (therefore £10 million) and when he was found out, went on long term sick leave. He's not as sick as the rest of us, and of course will still be on full pay. Needless to say, the PFI has been stopped – as part of the wider review of PFIs it would have been anyway – and it’s going to cost something like £28 million in breach of contract fees to cease construction entirely. Putting that in context, the total cost of the PFI was projected at £180 million.

This week there were not enough beds at the hospital and patients were stacked up outside in waiting ambulances. At least then they are not breaking the 4 hour A&E rule, since they aren’t technically in A&E at that point.

Festive spending

2006-12-13T21:02:00.000Z

I see that sales of my record (I say ‘my record’, well, you know what I mean) didn’t rocket after my revelation the other day. Can’t blame anyone; the track listing, after all, would be enough to put any sane person off. All I can say is that it is at least suitably thematic, being both biblical and apocalyptic.

That represents the experience of Christmas shopping in Chelmsford, if nothing else.

Patsy and the Plague

2006-12-11T22:16:00.000Z

The Orwellian nightmare of Hewitt’s NHS continues*. Around the country, 29 hospitals are to close but in case you were under any illusions (ie. that this might have adverse effects on the health service) it’s actually going to “improve patient care”. This year the NHS is to make a surplus – yes, a surplus – of £250 million. Meanwhile we’ll spend £20 billion on the Trident replacement.

I’m no economist - I don’t even really know how many millions make a billion (isn’t it different depending on where you come from anyway?) but it doesn’t sound like a good sense to me.
* Interesting description on Google: "George Orwell's 1949 novel decries a totalitarian government bent on total manipulation".

On a smaller scale, I’ve just spent £8.50 buying a record that I appear on (with my dad). You won’t ever want to hear it; it’s called Plague Songs. It really is what it says on the tin.

Lyrical spamming

2006-12-07T20:58:00.000Z

As an appreciation of all the spam email I receive, I've decided to make some of it into a poem.

Why be an average guy any longer
his tinted glasses; and fabulous hostelries. highly stylized fixtures.
Separate yourself from other men
She will love you more than any other guy
skittish wane
Whatever you do, keep this on the lowdown!

Do you want a prosperous future
They’ve sat through New software uploaded by Harry on Nov 19
Not for me, shopping before daybreak, but lines form.
I want to ask when he does finally come down off of this, what can I really expect
This is what I was talking about
The twentieth century, that ache in the world

Nobody likes being told what to do.

That's the end of my poem. I think it's very poignant.

Tuck shop teenagers

2006-12-05T18:09:00.000Z

Just went to the village shop to get some milk. Our village (where we’ve lived for eighteen months to be closer to Nearest and Dearest’s work at the local hospital) is just lovely and I don’t want to leave, but we will have to when this SHO rotation ends in July. Take the shop, for instance (the only one in the village). You could walk in and see any of our local characters - Mrs Brant, characterised by her barking at the counter assistant “PAPERS FOR BRANT!!” or Milly, Chantilly and Lily with Jake, Blake and Drake from the local boarding school arms full of Pot Noodles, Mars Bars, Pringles and Coke for a tuckfest later. Another notable is 84 year old Horace, cycling every day up to his allotment amid the 4x4s driving their kiddies to the prep school. Someone must be smiling on him because cycling in wellies doesn’t necessarily make for the straightest lines.

Also, this village is excellent for festive house displays. Currently four houses are covered in flashing icicles, illuminated snowmen and neon messages of goodwill. If you like lights, and I do, this is the place to be.

Sad to think we will be leaving here, but even sadder not to have a clue where our next location will be. Nearest and dearest can apply for 4 geographical areas/1 specialty, or various combinations thereof. Choosing only 1 geographical area/4 specialties could mean a move to any corner of this Deanery, none of which are particularly desirable. At least we only have chickens - for those with families and mortgages, this particular bit of Hewittery must be unfathomably difficult.

Sometimes only fairy lights can help

2006-12-04T21:26:00.000Z

I feel really stressed tonight. I don’t know if it’s the effect of interviewing all day and then driving home in howling wind, rain and darkness with the glare of oncoming lights obliterating everything around me. I’m not the world’s most experienced driver, so this might not be surprising. Having a 4x4 up your jacksy with its lights obscuring all vision doesn't help.

But also, the lurking cold I have been fighting is making itself felt and my head feels swimmy and overloaded. Everything is a just a bit more effort that I can quite muster at the moment but that won’t stop me trying. To make myself feel better I’ve found some of my favourite fairy lights and hung them on the new tree that I rescued from a night out in the cold at Wyevale. Ahhh ... fairy lights. Things are starting to look brighter.

Merry hens

2006-12-03T17:52:00.000Z

Trying to work out how I could get the hens to wear Santa hats so I can make Christmas cards with pictures of Christmassy chickens. No amount of bribery with grapes and/or Wensleydale is going to make this happen in real life, but luckily I can pretend to myself that I succeeded, with judicious use of a computer.

I’ll have to make do with Omlet’s own range of cards, which does, at least, benefit the Battery Hen Trust.

A red ribbon for World Aids Day

2006-12-01T16:27:00.000Z

Friends. Be safe, be sensible and donate what you can. Or do whatever feels good to you for someone in need. There's lots of volunteering that can be done on this issue.

Avert (international charity)
Terrence Higgins Trust
Aids Alliance

You can ring my bell ...

2006-11-29T23:14:00.000Z

Today I ordered one of these. And one of these .
I think you will agree that both are superb.

Revision is not just for sixth formers

2006-11-28T20:17:00.000Z

Sitting here tonight helping my beloved with his MRCP revision (when I say 'helping', what I mean is helping him mark his answers at the end of each section). MRCP is one of the post qualification exams that doctors have to take and pass in order to climb the slippery ladder of medicine (the very same exam which may be abolished in a few years' time because it doesn't really fit in with MMC don't you know), the exam which costs £300 per shot and has something like a 70% fail rate.

Did mock interviews yesterday at a grammar school in North East London - eight eager little would-be medics all lovely, keen and enthusiastic. I find it very hard not to disabuse them of their idealistic, happy ideas about what working in the NHS may mean for them. It's not even about the 'downsides of being a doctor' these days (awareness of which we are keen to assess in applicants) - it's all about the downsides of working in the NHS. The chances of a 17 year old knowing what this really means are nil - and why should they? And yet sitting here with the other half, watching him - after 9 years of training - go through an expensive, presently pointless hurdle for a career which currently promises him a future that is definite only in the following attributes: uncertainty of career structure, potential unemployment, years of geographical relocation, a dwindling amount of respect, successively eroded autonomy in treatment of patients, a possible conclusion as a 'junior consultant' still having to do week long night shifts - well - my heart is not really in it when I interview these poor oblivious applicants. They still think they can make a difference as a doctor. I'm increasingly unsure that they will be allowed to do so.

Christmas can't come soon enough

2006-11-27T19:20:00.000Z

All this exotic travelling to the outer regions of London and Essex is tiring me out. In the last month I've been to 11 schools, which doesn't actually sound that much, but feels like quite a lot. Luckily, I get a big wodge of time off at christmas which means I get lots of time to work on my other little web based baby, as well as the requisite festivities.

If only Santa's little elves could bring back the 322,000 postings and 8000 members I had on my admissionsforum website before Claranet lost the data. That would be a great christmas present. Still, all is not lost - I might yet see the day that they return the £800 they took off me when I renewed my contract - the day before they lost all the data, almost four months ago.

Maybe they need the money more than I do.

Sunday muddy Sunday

2006-11-26T14:21:00.000Z

Phenomenal rain here in Essex, and, I gather, other parts of the country. One of those days where the sun shines beautifully for ten minutes and then the sky goes black and roads are flooded within seconds. Out here in the countryside, it's all mud and flood. Or flood and mud, I suppose, is a more chronologically correct description.

I didn't mention my trip to a school in Chigwell on Friday, to do mock interviews (again). I had a mix of applicants for subjects as diverse as journalism, chemistry, history and business studies (why does anyone want to do business studies as a degree ... or journalism for that matter?)

This is a school based in the heart of the nouveau riche Essex/London suburbs - think builders made good, taxi drivers and small scale business people. It may well be where hair straighteners were invented - I'm sure I saw a Blue Plaque to that effect - and it certainly boasts a proliferation of nail bars. The car park is full of flash but youthful cars - belonging to the kids, not the teachers. (Incidentally our car is in the picture above; I'll leave you to guess which one it is).

Many of my interviewees don't really seem to know why they are applying to university. One tells me her friend has three conditional offers and yet she has none, and then says, very quietly, "Can I ask you a question? What is a conditional offer?" Bless her. Meanwhile my last applicant of the day, who has applied for journalism, doesn't read a newspaper (although this was a better answer than the one I expected - I thought she might tell me that she reads the Daily Mail). She doesn't know if she thinks the BBC is biased or not. She can't tell me any of the major stories in today's news. She hasn't done any work experience, although she has arranged some, with a huge media organisation, and is impressed that their portfolio includes Nutz. When I point out that she may need to do some journalistic research and perhaps even read a newspaper before her interview, she tells me she wants to be a fashion editor and it doesn't seem necessary. Which, I suppose, may be true.

Her last question is about what to wear to interview. I'm not sure it's appropriate for me to say "less fake tan" but I do try to point out that wearing such a short skirt may not be the best idea. On the other hand, for her work experience at least, it might be a ladder to the top.

It's the clucking weekend

2006-11-25T17:00:00.000Z

Ah .. the weekend. Time to catch up with my favourite chicken shaped creatures - here they are "helping" with the gardening. They often help, pulling up flowers, scratching big muddy holes in the lawn and favourite of all, picking up twigs and leaves and rearranging them into pretend nests. We also had some fun "playing worms". This game involves me digging up the muddy ex-vegetable patch so that the chickens can grab the big fat worms nestling underneath, which they suck down like spaghetti (which they also love).
We've had two eggs almost every day for a year now, even though chickens are only supposed to lay 'from Easter to Guy Fawkes'. They are looking a bit worn out though. I feel guilty. They need a little egg free holiday.

Double O Heaven

2006-11-24T07:22:00.000Z

What can I say. The best Bond movie ever.

Ah. Daniel.

Failure is not an option

2006-11-23T08:05:00.000Z

Talking to Lower VI students is a bigger challenge than I thought. They really haven’t grasped the concept of applying to university yet. A lot of what I was saying to them today went straight over their heads. In this context, it was a real mistake to try to explain the admittedly strange concept of the University of London. As I watched their little eyes glaze over with a mixture of confusion and fear I felt a pang of sorrow at the way people now are pushed into making career choices so early on – and then have to achieve so much academically to get there. When they don’t, it all comes crashing down – and they aren’t well prepared for failure. It’s not their fault – teachers, careers advisors and above all, parents have inculcated them with the belief that ‘going to university’ is their sole objective.

While I often feel regret that I didn’t have guidance or choices when I was their age, it’s this kind of thing that makes me feel happy that I chose to study later in life, and what I did was entirely unrelated to career choices. I did it for the love of the subjects. Is Blair’s aim to get 50% of the population into university about this – or propping up the tax paying public – or just a good soundbite?

Living history

2006-11-22T15:57:00.000Z

Sent an academic colleague out to one of the

’s top schools last week to do a subject talk about computer science. He reported back to me the astonishing view of the teacher that his pupils worry that our university has “the Jack the Ripper factor, this being what the area is most famous for”. As someone with a Master’s in the History of London, I personally am thrilled that we are working in the midst of one of the seminal periods of Victorian London. I’ve always wanted to go back in time, but now it seems I don’t have to.

Better not tell them about the more contemporary issues – poverty, social deprivation, drug dealing and disease ....

The past from above

2006-11-21T18:47:00.000Z

Wow. That sounds philosophical, doesn't it? It's not though - it's the name of an exhibition I went to see today at the British Museum with my dad. I recommend it. If you were studying geography or ancient history, this would be just the thing to give you an appetite for those subjects. Extraordinary and beautiful aerial shots of remnants of civilisations from the first century AD onwards. Pictures of beautiful Iraqi settlements and ancient towers - something we don't think about in the midst of a war and yet it was so powerful - home of Babylon - once the biggest city in the world. The picture to the left is the Minaret of the Great Mosque at Samarra, Iraq. It was built soon after AD847. These pictures show us how civilisations come and go, destroying each other and making way for new powers, who in turn get destroyed by others.

Have we not advanced since then?

Speech therapy wounds

2006-11-20T07:58:00.000Z

(And I really mean that).

Met my friend from speech therapy over the weekend. Five months after leaving the course we are still licking our wounds. There’s a real sense of grievance, of injustice, over the way the university dealt with us. Granted, I wasn’t the most stellar student, but my friend – she’s bloody good. She already has a paper published from her first degree and aced most of her speech therapy courses while we were there. Neither of us felt there was any support from the tutors whilst we were battling through the 25 exams in 23 weeks of teaching, the team projects, the horrible confidence-shattering placements – but we tried to carry on. When we both finally broke, the university’s attitude was something akin to “See ya!” and that was that. Never mind that 14% of the course left at the end of the first year – an attrition rate of which any university should be ashamed. Have they investigated the reasons for this? Nope.

The sad thing is that the already beleaguered NHS pays for this training – and bursaries to support us while we’re studying. 14% of the students on my course = something like 20 students x tuition fees @ £3k /yr + bursary = a bit of a waste of money. Medical schools, precisely for this reason, are keen to reduce attrition rates to negligible levels – but in our SLT training, nobody seems to care.

On the plus side, at least for me and my friends who left, a study by the Royal College of Speech and Language Therapists reports that 80% of this year’s SLT graduates are unemployed. So perhaps we did the right thing after all.

Sexual healing

2006-11-19T11:01:00.002Z

Last week I was doing mock interviews at a very good local school. This kind of work takes you down one of two directions mainly related to sensations of despair or joy. At this school I was pleased to be feeling the latter. The pupils were knowledgeable, interesting, inspiring and likeable. They were articulate – even here in the heart of chavspeak – and impassioned. Some of them talked so enthusiastically about their subjects that I found myself thinking “Yes, I’d like to study that subject too” – and that’s saying something when you’re interviewing an applicant for physics.

I find myself thinking wistfully back to that age when my overwhelming motivation in terms of the future was to leave school as soon as legally possible, leave home and get a job. I had never heard of university - people from my background were not encouraged to have aspirations. These days schools are well equipped with careers libraries, advisors and opportunities to investigate university options - at my school 21 years ago when I was about to leave, 'careers advice' constituted a visit to a dusty little office in the local town, staffed by a dusty old lady, to look in the dusty filing cabinet sparsely populated with ancient yellowing leaflets. The options were extreme - hairdressing, or join the army. Or, if you were really ambitious, you could get a job at the local Argyll wellie boot factory or the nearby nuclear power plant.

But back to the mock interviews. I'm sitting on one side of a very small table, so the applicant is very close to me.Young person number 6 comes in with a passion for English Lit, for which he's applied to some of our 'best' universities. I ask him "What have you been reading lately?" to which he replies "The Wife of Bath" (Chaucer). I say "What do you think of it?". He leans forward on one arm, with the other hand stroking a recent beard he's grown, looks deeply into my eyes and says "It's quite sexual".

Can't fault him for honesty, but it's an unusual answer in an interview. Let's hope Oxford are impressed.

Religion on the A130

2006-11-18T07:51:00.000Z

My morning drive to the station yesterday was like some kind of religious experience. Not because I spent some of it taking the lord's name in vain as the classic Essex boy/man racer in ugly massive executive deathtrap tried to take me as his next victim, but because a huge golden sun was just coming up over the ploughed fields, into a clear blue sky. Everything was bathed in a golden light, pheasants were standing in the furrows untroubled by the rush of traffic and commuters around them. The world suddenly seemed a hopeful place.

It's things like this that make me love living in the country.

Coming home later my train took 1.5 hours to go 40 miles.

It's things like this that make me hate living in the country.

* this is one of my own pictures taken last christmas.