It’s been a bit of a weird day. First up today was ringing Abbey, I wanted to check that I couldn’t just cancel the bankers draft. I can’t, no, but I should be able to just take it back to “a branch” and return it.
Next up was the WBLD, and yes, it was as much of a waste of time as ever, except that I finally understood how the dis-incentive scheme at the hospital at which I have my placement works; how they intend to drive all the students away. Either that or they really do imagine that they are so utterly wonderful that everyone will be overjoyed just to get a job there that they won’t care if they’re working on the shittiest wards – because they’re not offering people the choice of where to work anymore. Even if you’ve had your placement on a ward with vacancies that want you back; even in that situation, you probably won’t end up working there.
After some discussion, I think I’ve grasped the concept and I believe that their strategy works something like this:
…
So, yeah. That’s great.
Anyway, I’ve mailed the uni to find out if they’ve got any recruitment stuff happening around the trust I used to work in, just because it’d be more convenient, and frankly, they treat their staff better.
Anyway, so I headed back via uni, ‘cos there was an Essay to pick up; and… impressively, well, due to industrial action they’re not getting marked, so I may not qualify *anyway* (at least, not on time), but it turned out mine had got lost *on top* of not being marked. They’re giving feedback, so I should know if it’s awful or ‘okay’, or even ‘good’. Although the latter is unlikely. Anyway, she (the module leader) is getting the electronic copy and not-marking it and will send it back on monday. I’m pissed though. And it means it’s not being anonymously marked, because she’s met me.
But at least that’s sorted. The NHS is still failing to actually send a letter. The complexity of getting one letter from one NHS building to a government office is starting to get to me. They do however claim it is just waiting for the relevant doc to come in and sign it.
Then I went down to the bank and found it has to be the issuing branch that you take the draft back to. Which is fine, it’s hastle, but not too bad. So long as that works.
Anyway, I zig-zagged back, and looked at an abandoned house I’d seen while I was looking at the now overpriced property I was after before. On the way there, the traffic was a bit iffy, and the weather was hot, so both front windows were rolled down (it clearly wasn’t *really* hot or all the windows’d’ve been down); and I rolled to a gentle stop, at which point a Rasta bloke who’d I’d guess was in his 50s came over to the car (a fair walk from where he was sat) and cheerily said (from the passenger side):
“Beautiful car”
… we had a bit of a chat, about how long I’d owned her and so on. There was no one behind me, and although I felt vaguely wary about the situation I was generally happy to chat with the cheery seeming bloke.
And then he said (and if you can combine a Rastafarian and Bristolian accent, you’ll get this down perfectly):
“Truth be told, it wasn’t just the car I noticed… It was you”.
Which was a bit of a shock, but a nice one somehow. Although it did make me feel even *more* nervous given that St. Pauls hasn’t got a nice reputation, but to be honest, having spent about 15 minutes pootling around the place, I got smiled at, waved at, better road manners, kids actually being polite, and frankly, it was clean and safe and bright…. And I did wonder about if this is *the same* St. Pauls.
And so I came home and did my Laundry, and discovered the abandoned house is fracking Leasehold. Feh. Still, I might see what’s going on with it because it’s… well… abandoned.
