Because I have no inspiration today, I shall mostly be posting links to some crazy funny shit.

I particularly like the “Why do fools fall in love?” one.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to return to tying myself up into teeny tiny knots over whether or not I’m going to get through these bloody assessments on Saturday.

I have this funny mental thing where I make associations in my unconcious mind before my rational mind can catch up. For instance, if I borrow one of SMM’s shirts and catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye I’ll think “That’s SMM’s shirt, he must be wearing it.” before I recognise that I’m me and not him.
Does that make any sense?

Anyway, I bought new shoes (photo soon) with black, white and grey stripes that look JUST LIKE a badger’s face; on more than one occasion I’ve glanced down and thought “Jesus! Badgers on my feet! Oh…no, no, just my trainers…”

Is the message “Hey! I’m at the hospital!” isn’t as scary as it might otherwise be.

I’m yet to find out WHY he’s there, because he’s not meant to be driving ambulances today…
Will keep you posted.

!EDIT!
No panic, he was just hijacked into driving a little old lady into A&E, which is what he does all day every day. Whattaguy!

Photos from my trip North are up.

I’ve been up north all weekend watching the kids I used to nanny for. It’s a nice arrangement, I get to see the kids and spend some time with them and their folks get some time off (in this case, to go to a dance conference in the South of England).

It rarely backfires, I’m enough of a novelty to the kids that their behaviour tends to be exemplary; when they meet friends of mine in Edinburgh there are always comments about how polite and pleasant they are in company.

We had a nice weekend, Friday night was basketball practice and swimming, Saturday shopping, lunch and a movie in the evening, Sunday homework, cards and we all went out, TZ to play with a friend’s daughter, J and I went for a walk, stopping into the friend’s house on the way back.

J bored easily, he had no interest in listening to two old farts chatting so asked for the housekeys and went on his way. He’s 12 and perfectly capable of minding himself for an hour or so, so I had no qualms about his safety, the house is only 100 yards down the road from where I was.

Returning home I logged onto the family desktop to read my email and, there, naively sitting in the drop down address bar was that word you don’t want to see in a house full of kids.

It started with a P.
And rhymes with Goldie Hawn.

Now consider my position, folks, what do I do? This is not my child and while I enjoy a close relationship with him, having known him since he was 6, we’re not related and at the end of the day, I’m just the childminder.

So what to do? Irritatingly, this came just the night before we’d had the “You’re 12, your body and brain are going to start changing in new ways, if you’re comfy with talking about it, I’m happy to answer any questions you have.” talk.

It was a fair old slap in the face to find that he’d taken his adolescent curiousity online.

What alarmed me most of all was that I have not the first idea what happens if you type that word (and yes, I’m watching the search engine bots on this post) into Google. It’s such an all encompassing term that covers some *shudder* vile concepts, I was particularly afraid that he’d been exposed to some practices that the average 12 year old does not need to know about.

I called him in and had a chat, did he know that it was possible to see what someone had been using the Internet for? His face drained grey as he realised what was going on. Reading the titles of the folders in the History sidebar, it didn’t appear as though he’d been privy to anything more threatening than you’d find on the third page of a red top rag. “Is this everything?” I asked, he nodded, his head an accurate counterpoint to the wobbling of his lower lip.

“What did you see?”
“Just…you know.”
“No, no, I don’t.”
“Just, boobs and that.”

So we had a looooong chat about how being 12 isn’t easy and that your brain is full of new thoughts and feelings and that that’s all alright, but that it was important to take things slowly and that the Internet was NOT the place to be finding stuff out.

I also pointed out that having sexy thoughts and sexy feelings was OK, as was being curious, but that the Internet had a lot of REALLY grown-up stuff on it that he simply wasn’t old enough to deal with. “I just don’t want you to be freaked out or upset, mate. It’s like me passing my driving test and jumping into an F1 Ferrari, that would be a dumb thing to do, right? I’d crash and burn. OK, this is the same thing, you have to take it slowly.”

He cried a lot, I sighed a lot, he begged me not to tell his parents.

“I can’t do that beuy, I have to.”
“But I’ll get in trouble.”
“Yeah, you will, but that’s part of growing up, sometimes we mess up and get punished for it, it’s just another part of becoming an adult.”

He stared at his feet, hot cheeks, wet lashes.

“Feels pretty stupid, huh?”
*nods*
“Well, good, frankly mate. It was a stupid thing to do. Was it even worth it?”
*sad shake of head*
“Planning on doing it again?”
*emphatic shake of the head*
“Good, c’mere.”
We had a hug, he sobbed into my shoulder for a while, sniffed loudly, wiped his snottery nose on his sleeve.

“Go wash your face, I’m going to make dinner.”

After they were both in bed, I rang the lovely Amber and vented, pretty much going “What do I *DO*!?” She had fabulously sage advice, “You tell his folks and let them deal with it.”

So I did and what an awkward conversation it was! I’ve always been a fan of the post-childcare handover, it’s always good, I feel, to let parents know what’s been happening with their kids in their absence. Usually the ‘bad news’ part has been limited to things like “He’s got a bruise on his forehead where he fell.” or “She sassed me all evening so I sent her to bed early.”
I’ve never had to tell parents I caught their son misusing the Internet before, I hope not to have to again.

So, dear readers, lots of you have kids and use childcarers, I’m sure; put yourself in the parent’s position. What’s your take?

On the train north to watch the kids for the weekend I plonk myself down opposite a sweet old lady, l’m a great believer in talking to people on trains and in my experience little old ladies have the best banter; they also give me an opportunity to bust out my ‘charming young man’ moves which haven’t had an airing in some time.

Snowy hair and twinkly eyes she’s the ultimate fairy tale granny, we chat about the train’s delay and compare photos of grandchildren and nieces/nephews. She’s always worked with children, was a paediatric nurse in 1950’s Glasgow. Laughing aloud she recounts meeting with architects who wanted to install tiny urinals in her ward. “How do you expect a brain damaged child to understand that he can pee against *that* wall but not *those* ones!?”

“OK.” says I, “looking back on a career in the NHS, what advice would you give me, just starting out?”

Her eyes darkened, “lt’s a good system, always has been. We lost our son to cancer when he was 18. There was nothing they could do, but they never gave up on him. He had oncology consultants calling American colleagues, amazing nursing…we couldn’t have afforded care like that privately. The NHS is so…political these days.”
“We dealt with terrible things back in my day, we’d send women home with bairns and their husbands would hit them with the baby, swing it at them, they couldn’t cope with the competition…but we didn’t give up, because we’d joined to help people, not meet targets.”
“You seem like you’d have fitted in.”

She got off at Pitlochry; as she left she patted my arm and said “You follow your heart, son.”

Inspiring.

Zeno was keen to know what was done in the 16th century to control those dastardly Egyptians. You ask, I provide, I work in a law library, it’s my job.
Punctuation, emphasis and capitalisation are all as original as I could get it.

From “An Act for the Punishment of certain Persons calling themselves “Egyptians”"
Anno 1&2, Phil.&Mar. C.4, AD 1554.

Where in a Parliament holden at Westminster in the XXIJ Year of the Reign of our late Sovereign Lord King Henry the Eighth (for the avoiding and banishing out of this Realm of certain outlandish People calling themselves Egyptians, using no craft nor Feat of Merchandise for to live by, but going from Place to Place in great Companies using great, subtil and crafty Means to deceive the King’s Subjects, bearing them in Hand, that they by Palmistry could tell Mens and Womens Fortunes and so many Times by Craft and Subtilty deceive the People of their Money, and committed divers great and heinous Felonies and Robberies to the great Hurt and Deceit of the People;) it was amongst other Things then enacted, That from the Time of the making of the said Act no such Persons should be suffered to come within this the King’s Realm, upon Pain of Forfeiture to the King of all their Goods and Chattels, and then to be commanded to avoid the Realm within Fifteen Days next after the Commandment, upon Pain of Imprisonment…Forasmuch as (Egyptians) have enterprised to come over again into this Realm using their old accustomed devilish and naughty practices and Devices with such abominable Living as is not in any Christian Realm to be permitted, named or known.

It goes on to explain that contravention of the act will classify these people as felons and thus “suffer therefore Pains of Death, Loss of Lands and Goods”.

Now, if anyone can tell me how this attitude is in anyway different from current attitudes to asylum seekers, I’ll buy you a Mars Bar.

I’m also rather fond of Chapter 2 from the same period.

“An Act for the Reformation of Excess in Apparel”

Whoever shall wear Silk in or upon his Hat, Bonnet, Girdle, Scabbard, Hose, Shoes or Spurleathers shall be Three Months imprisoned except Mayors, Aldermen etc.

So I’ve not blogged this cos I don’t want to tempt fate, but I figured, fuck fate.
(That’s possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever said. Watch me crash and burn.)

I’m on the Ambulance Service Recruitment RollerCoaster.

A couple of months ago I handed in an application form, a month later they got in touch and said “Ummmmm, we’ve buggered up our plans, we’ll be recruiting in a month, if you don’t want to be involved let us know, otherwise, sit tight.”

A month passed, I bumped into the head of recruitment at a wedding, he smiled a “I hold your career in my hands” smile and said “Received a letter yet?”
“Ummmm, nope, should I?”
“You’ll get one soon…wanna know what’s in it?”
“Damn right!”
“Tough, I’m not about to do that.”
He then turned to Scotsmedicman and said “What are you doing on the 13th?”

SMM smiled, “That’s our anniversary.”

“Well, don’t book a table anywhere, Kal’s got an entrance exam to sit.”

And with that, he melted into the crowd, leaving me repeating “Fuck, I mean, wow, but fuck….”

So the 13th approached, while I frantically revised long division, fractions and pie charts.
And I passed! WHOO ME!

Phase two is a day of assessments, fitness and driving and is due on the 1st.

The fitness is the really scary one, I have to…
Get my heartrate up to 80% of it’s capacity, climbing steps at 80 steps a minute.
Listen to and repeat sentences delivered by a paramedic, getting as many ‘key words’ as possible.
Stepping exercise, 80 steps a minute, carrying 10kg of weights for 2.5 minutes.
2 minutes of CPR.
Manual dexterity test, 1 minute.
Stepping exercise, 120 steps a minute, carrying 30kg, 3.5 minutes.
‘Logical reasoning’ exercise.

I tried this on Saturday, I wasn’t well, it didn’t go well, I texted SMM, “It’ll never work, I should pack it all in.”

Monday night saw me at the work gym with SMM and A, one of his colleagues from the Ambulance Station for a mock physical.

They beasted me. Utterly beasted me. Sat on a bench slurping Diet Cokes while they shouted “Come on pussy! Get a move on!”.
And I passed!

I went back tonight and tried it again and it’s all feeling a lot less Herculean than it used to, I sweat like a pig in heat, but I can do it.

I think this might be alright you know…?

I’ve had a cold for the past week, today I learned where my sinuses are.
They’re where the hurt is.
Where the pus that drains into my throat comes from.
What feel REALLY COLD when I use decongestants.

Blech, my sinuses.
Blech.

Giles:”Egyptians?!”
Me: “Yup.”
Giles: “In 1567? Bloody hell, that’s a fuck of a long way in 1567…”
Fran: “It’s as far today…”
Fran and Me: Laugh hysterically, Giles buries head in cushions.