Kates Journal

I really feel like I’ve let down my mum on this; it’s not anything that I can really say is my fault, but just… I was meant to be taking her into Newbury for an appointment, which we had to cancel because I’d not got a car that worked. And I said at the time that I’d get there and we’d head in before she got married.

I didn’t, because I’ve still not got a car.

If I’d've spent 25 quid on the V5 for the DAF earlier, I’d've had it back by now, and would – to some extent – have a car.

But worse; for me at least; is that I was meant to be providing the car to take my mum to the register office for her wedding. In my head I had Rebecca with some cream ribbon from the bonnet flash up to the front windows. Washed and even polished, to make her the shinest she can be. My mum’s given me so much over the years and it was a little something to give back…

…and it looks like Rebecca won’t be ready for the wedding. The engine is still not back, I can’t say I’m exactly impressed. It’s not the fault of JLH – but the guy’s had the money for the engine, it was paid for in advance, and it’s been over a month. The crank’s still not been reground, and therefore my car while complete in every other regard is completely lacking in engine.

I feel like I’m letting my mum down. Hell, as it stands we’ll have to get a lift to my mum’s house from Paramito (her fiance), and back on the of the wedding, or the day after. Unless the DAF’s V5 appears. Since I only sent off for the V5 a week and a half ago it seems unlikely (they say 4 – 6 weeks, and I’m suspecting that Joan, the previous owner, isn’t going to be lightning fast returning the ‘I sold the car’ letter).

The bike’s showing the usual symptoms of warm-weather unhappiness; it’s top speed was down around 45 today. I just feel a bit like I suck, really. Which is an unfair damning of myself, but… money’s a big stressor at the moment, and because of that I’ve not been able to see as much of Kathryn as I want to, and… oh, it’s all just a bit of a problem at the moment. It’s being a lot of hard work, and I don’t feel like I’ve achieved anything much.

Anyway, bed now, because Kate’s have to get up at 5:30am.

About 6 or 7 weeks ago I sold the Viva; it had become somewhat of a millstone, sucking money in and making me miserable. It also had sprayed me with hot coolant, and looked likely to fail it’s next MOT without fairly substantial works to at least one sill, if not both.

On the plus side, the Minor looked to be nearly ready and so it made sense to sell a car with an MOT, rather than sell it without. It’s now about 7 weeks on, and the minor hopefully should be ready this weekend. We’re apparently waiting on the engine, which itself is waiting on the crankshaft, which needs to be reground. I’m praying that it’s done and back and being assembled as we speak. I promised the Minor to my mum for her wedding, plans involving white ribbon and all that. I know she’s hardly the world’s shiniest minor, but she’s part of the family.

Part of the reason for selling the Viva was, I’ll grant, that I thought I’d have the DAF up and running too. This was, of course, dependent on the original owner coming up with the V5. Which she hasn’t done. Which means that the DAF – while roadworthy (although needing brakes adjusting) is stuck on the drive – the ridiculousness of the DVLA’s policy (that an MOTd and insured car needs a V5 to get a tax disk) does frustrate me. If I’d stolen the car, d’y'think I’d *really* turn up at a DVLA office asking to *buy* a tax disk? Really?

I can’t actually think of a criminal process which would involve buying a tax disk for an illegally obtained car, and therefore find the idea that I can’t have one dumb.

At any rate, we’ve now been without a car of any road-legal sort for 7 weeks, and I’m beginning to tire of it. This wasn’t meant to be a long old whine, but frankly, it cost me 65 quid to make the journey to *agency nurse shift* and it should’ve cost me around 35 quid. To be fair I could’ve ridden the bike, but also to be fair, the bike’s top speed can drop as low as 45 on a really bad day, and 2-3 hours of riding at that speed would make me want to weep.

Anyway, so, skipping the whining, we had a productive week- in so far as I made lots of money  (more than I make in a week at work) doing 2 agency shifts (does anyone see how ridiculous that is?) and we replaced the old metal shed with a new (attrociously poor quality, but looks the part) wooden shed. We spent almost 12 hours solidly working on the shed (apart from a very quick break for lunch), the old one being surprisingly hard to take down. Rotten though it was there was a lot of rusty old steel holding it together. The block-work back wall was as bad as I feared though and I just pushed it over. Kathryn and I broke it up a bit once it’d been pushed over – so as to clear it away somewhat more easily. Unfortunately, the guy who said he’d come take away the steel hasn’t turned up; and our back yard looks like a scrap yard. We need to get a skip in, and my plan to put the car on the neighbour’s drive (the one of the abandoned house) has been foiled by him turning up and putting his car there. The swine.

I don’t see any action on the house though, so I guess he’s just dumped his car there and gone off on holiday (it’s a handy spot to park if you’re flying, I guess).

Anyway, so I’m back at my usual work after a week of nights, and the week ‘off’ with the 2 agency shifts – and I’ve screwed my body up by doing one night in that bunch. I’m tired and grumpy feeling – and I meant to ring the doctor this morning to sort out an appointment (I’m due my regular blood test to see if my liver’s got worse, I need my allergy meds and I want a referral to Guy’s allergy clinic). Unfortunately, I sat being apathetic until I finally rang and they’d no appointments left. Some days I really suck :-/

I’ll have to do it one day next week now, which is a shame because Kathryn might be at home and I’d much rather have spent time with Kathryn. The problem is, I’m achy and tired, and the sofa is terribly comfy.

Other tasks which were up for this morning included wandering to B&Q and seeing if they still do the dire, cheap, wobbly metal shelving which I could screw to the back wall of the thin-staple and nail shed so as we could actually have our kitchen back. I reckon that with a couple of sets of shelves there’d actually be enough space in there to put *all* the decorating and DIY stuff. Possibly even the relevant bits of the Charlie when I bring her back from my mum’s.

I’m, it must be said, getting desperate for a bike which does more than 50 mph. It’s mind blowingly tedious, the motorway at 50mph. And it’s not even like I’m getting awesome fuel efficiency from Cherry at this cruising speed, some of the petrol’s going into the gearbox, and lord knows where the rest of the 60mpg is going (it’s still running around 45mpg).

I *am* in a whiny mood.

I think I’ll go shower, and then put some more filler on Jejy, and watch We love XKCD a few more times. As a side point, one thing which I have noted for it’s awesomeness, apart from my luck at meeting Kathryn who is awesome beyond words, is that cooking one’s food from scratch does result in meals that are delicious. For years I’ve espoused this theory, and being one who can knock up a reasonable tomato sauce in the same time it takes to warm a pre-bought one (mine’s better :-P) had lived on basically: wraps, pasta, curry and pizza – those being the recipes I had in my head – for years. But being with Kathryn, and being bored of those minimal choices, we’ve started cooking our way through a couple of cook books – including the world’s most gorgeous chicken pie (coming again this weekend, because while it’s phenominally unhealthy (pot of cream, block of butter) it’s just so damn good that occasionally we have to eat it), calzone (we overcooked it slightly and it was still bloody delicious), curried parsnip soup (my dad’d be proud, bit too lemony but also great), and a miriad of other great dishes – and y’know what, my diet is much better and (apart from being knackered) I feel healthier. And it’s just damn spiffy.

Yes, we loose an hour every night to cooking, but quite frankly it’s worth it. Unfortunately, however creatively I did the sums I couldn’t make buying cereal more expensive that making our own granola. Our own granola was excellent. Truly, we had hit on the celestial being’s own recipe for granola. But now we’re back to Tesco Crunchy and Kathryn (not being a huge fan of it) is back on Fruit and Fibre. It’s somewhat of a comedown.
The other disappointing thing is not having time or space to invite others to come share with us. I miss having people come around to stay, and come for dinner. Hopefully, once I’ve got my debts a little more under control, and perhaps got money back from Charlie for the bodged restoration of Rebecca, and the house is more finished we can get back to a more luxurious lifestyle. Anyhow, I should move off this sofa, because I’ve been sat here all morning.

…oh, I’m still tickled that we don’t look over 18 :)

We went to buy bread, taking only bare essentials with us (debit card, keys).

We spotted ‘Peach Wine Cooler’ and y’know, it’s a nice day, and the idea sat well with dinner.

We got ID’d. May I remind you that I’m 30.

We don’t have peach wine cooler.

*grins and bounces*

So, yesterday after my Violence and Aggression training (I’m just not aggressive enough with patients ;) ) I headed in to Theale to attempt to get the newly MOT’d Jejy Taxed. The government are usually overjoyed to make off with your cash, but giving a tax disk to a non-V5-having vehicle owner is a discretionary act, and may actually not be possible where the V5 lists the car as having the wrong tax band (Disabled == free tax; I’m not disabled, so need Private / Light goods == not free). At any rate, the chap was friendly, polite, cheerful, and determined not to give me a tax disk. More frustratingly I have to go *back* to Theale when I finally do get the V5 (the timescale for which is entirely dependent on whether the old owner deigns to send back the letter saying ‘yes, I’ve sold the car’) – because they can’t simultaneously issue a new V5 *and* change the tax band. No, they’re two separate and distinct processes which cannot be combined. *le sigh*

So I rode back, and on the way back came to a decision. I would get a new bike jacket. My old jacket has done 5 years of hard abuse. It’s seams are disintegrating (relying on the hidden for extra-strength seams), the zip is broken, and it doesn’t even make a pretence of being waterproof anymore. Riding in the rain had become one long shower… since I may be stuck commuting on the bike for a month, possibly more, since the Minor continues to be a disaster area (did I mention, my old 1300 engine was apparently the subject of a welded repair both to the head *and* the bore, and is thus not worth reboring and rebuilding), and the V5 for the DAF could take 6 weeks to come back…

Not only that, but I’m hoping to do some Agency work this week, although ironically today (for the first time in several days) I’ve not got a message saying ‘please come work for us’. Argh!
So I stopped off at Hein Gerick (well, stopped off == rode through Sloughland’s awful traffic) and examined the huge range of women’s jackets (ha, all 4 of the textile ones). Was seduced into buying a better one than the one I was going to get (it’s more waterproof than the cheapest one, which I was looking at), piled it all onto the back of the ‘zed and rode home.

It’s black, again, which is not what I really wanted; I wanted something with better visibility than my old jacket, but they didn’t have it in any other colour. Mind, it’ll show the dirt less, which is probably good given how filthy I was after riding home yesterday.

And more stress? Because having so little money that bills are impossible to look at without wanting to hide, working more than full time, planning 2 wedding ceremonies (although, to be fair a lot of that’s being done by Kathryn’s Mom, Kathryn’s Dad’s Partner, Kathryn’s sister and my Mum), running 2 classics (well, theoretically) and struggling to keep a very sickly MZ on the road isn’t stressful enough I’ve agreed to go on a 5 day ATNC course (ATLS and Nursing, not observing this time)… partly in the week before our wedding.

It’s one of those ‘take the opportunity or possibly loose it for years’ moments, and biting the bullet I took it.

I’m scared witless, but there y’go. Anyway, I’m going to shower and then chase the agency and see if they need anyone in A&E anywhere this afternoon. I’m all set to go…

So, I would like to post about work; obviously. I mean, who wouldn’t? My job’s dead interesting – and I get to see all sorts of things I’d love to talk about. Some people seem to have this art of writing about nursing, paramedic/tech-ing, doctor-uh-ing (er, some of those didn’t work very well) in an interesting and entertaining way, and they also seem to have got down the art of not-getting-caught-at-it pretty well. I, on the other hand still exist in a world of paranoia, where talking about work is something I rarely do on here, and when I do it’s often a password protected, friends only post.

Which is a shame, really. Because if you get me talking about it, I seem to be quite entertaining. This is apropos of nothing really, but I noted that I seem to (if I get in to it) be able to amuse Kathryn and my mother (and my friends) with my tales, but when it comes to putting them on paper they always feel dry  and uninspiring; like week-old-bread.

But hey.

There are several advantages, for me, of sleep deprevation (which is what I do to myself after my nights, and which is why my stomach currently feels like someone’s turning it inside out, I suspect. After all, I’ve been awake for 23 hours, 12 of which were spent at work). One of those advantages is I get to look back on these pseudo stream-of-consciousness rambly posts and go ‘my, my head really is not on right after nights’, and the other is something I discovered when I was MZ’ing in to London to get the Bike MOT’d.

If you recall, the bike broke down, and although my approach to fixing it was initially dumb, I gave myself a lot of leeway because I knew I was phenominally tired. I took much more time than I normally would, and didn’t berate myself for mistakes so much. And when I felt that deep frustration welling up because it wasn’t working or going right I stood back and spent a few minutes contemplating the sky, or the huge amount of traffic, or just how truly rusty the petrol tank is.

I’m actually a better mechanic when I’m exausted, because I’m more careful, and more willing to step back and re-examine where I’m at and what I’m doing to check that I’m not being dumb. When I’m full of energy and not so self-aware then I tend to assume the object is just being stubborn.

So, anyhow, I got home to find that the Hub Puller, ordered 2 weeks ago had finally showed up. My convincedness of her postage costs, and the fact it took her 2 weeks to send it to me mean there’ll be some less than positive feedback on e-bay. But anyhow, finding it there meant that I could attack Jejy. And so, having scrambled some eggs, read my interweb and sat for a bit I set to on the brakes. Hub pullers are really very handy when removing splined on hubs. Thankfully the previous owner’d used copperslip, so the hub actually was only stuck on the brake. Having freed it, and adjusted it, I examined the other side and found it was just in need of adjustment.

At last, the time had come. With some trepidation I set off to the MOT centre, and the journey containing such exciting discoveries as “oh, the brakes really are very 70s”, and “mmm, isn’t sitting in traffic fun (accident and lunch-time rush)”. By the time I got there I was convinced Jejy would fail, the brakes seemed only just adequate to me… and this is what I got:

I am still in awe. I look out and can’t quite believe that the DAF that has languished in a garden for 3 years passed it’s MOT first time. There were a couple of issues which he mentioned as needing sorting (while it’s not an MOT failure, because there’s no catagory for it, he didn’t like the missing indicator repeater, and the brakes passed the G-force meter test that the DAF has to go through (it can’t go on a rolling road, they damage the transmission) he felt the handbrake was weak (it is a bit)).

I can count the number of MOT’s I’ve passed first time on one hand…. so it was quite a shock :)

She, incidentally, performed flawlessly in the heavy traffic…

She is, however, full of twigs – many of which have been blown up through the vents, and down through the vents, but moving the little ventilator thingie still feels crunchy in a ‘crushing dried leaves’ way. :-/