So, as a consequence of my job I got to spend today at an inquest. Obviously I’m not going to talk about the inquest, or the evidence, or whathave you. Whilst it was an open inquest and anyone could have attended, I don’t think it’s terribly appropriate to discuss these things here. What I can (and do) say is that having been grilled on the stand about triage and care and decisions I made 2 years ago was less fun than I imagined. Having the relatives asking questions of you and wanting answers that you sadly cannot give them, that’s no fun either.
As someone who was involved briefly with the patient in question, well, it was weird to consider that the time I met this individual in life was far more brief than the amount of time I spent discussing the individual post-mortem. As I say, not fun. And now I’m worrying about my documentation for many of my other patients, the adequacy of which, if it came to court, now concerns me. Because my 15 minute or so, total, interaction with the patient was dissected and examined like some kind of specimen under a microscope, and what saved me spending the whole session stating “my normal practice is…” despite my appalling memory was the fact that the notes were adequate to draw a witness statement, which was enough to jog enough of my memory to enable me to actually discuss the events adequately.
Anyhow, enough about that, because it’s stressful. In other news, Chester had been producing a faint burning smell for a couple of days, intermittently, and we hadn’t managed to find the source. I’d come to the conclusion that I might have to take the dash apart and check the condition of the wiring behind, because it smelt like hot / melting insulation.
When I was en-route to the court today I noticed a significant quantity of smoke coming from the car as I pelted up the stretch of 60 limit, and pulling up to the court could distinctly smell melting plastic, but not locate the source of the smell which appeared to be somewhere engine bay related, and definitely not in the passenger cabin. Having had another look around the car I headed home, intermittently, again, smelling hot/melting rubber. Finally I got home, got changed, and poked in the engine bay, then laid under the car hunting for the source of the odour. Just as I was sliding myself out I glanced up at the suspension strut. Last year, you may recall, Chester’s suspension failed fairly dramatically slicing a tyre all the way around it’s rim. This time it’s not made it through the tyre, although the tyre has definitely had it. I’m slightly afraid to pull the car off the kerb I pulled it up onto, so I could examine it without too much difficulty, and without dragging the ramps out, because I’m slightly afraid that the tyre will go ‘Bang’ when I do.
This does, of course, mean we’re now sans car (again), and also that I get to play ‘track down the obscure part for the 25 year old car’ again. Volvo, last I heard, could supply these, but at 200 quid a throw. Which seems excessive on a car that cost £270 quid. So tomorrow I’ll do some ringing around, and hopefully get it shipped here, and then he’ll be mobile again.
It’s funny, because I looked at it a few times around the time of the incident, and had thought about rechecking it, but assumed that it was less likely to fail being on the side away from puddles. I was, clearly, wrong. It’s more irritating because we’ve got through a ridiculous number of tyres on the Volvo, none of which have actually worn out. Punctures destroyed two tyres, the failing struts have now destroyed another two. I think we treated him to all new tyres when we got him, so this rate of attrition is really rather sad. We’ve only done 40k miles in him!
Anyhow.
In other news, I’ve been doing more woodworking. Or what I consider woodworking, and everyone else would presumably consider causing wood torment and pain.
This:
is what we started with, and what we’re ending with. That, on the left, is one of the few bits of unplaned, un prepped douglas fir. That, complete with price tag, is what we bought to build the book cases. The back is made of spruce ply, which is what B&Q stock. I chose a sheet with a nice reddish tint to it:
That, actually, is the smaller back panel. Because I’m a twit. I prepped and varnished the shelves to make the smaller bookcase first. Not because that was the plan, but because I’m a twit. I’m a twit for two important reasons:
1) The smaller bookcase will obviously hold fewer books, clearing less space in the library, so it’d be better to do the bigger one first.
And more importantly:
2) Because the smaller bookcase is combined with the day bed (although how they actually fit together, exactly, is not yet clear). We’ve not finished designing the daybed, the unfolding night bed, or for that matter anything really related to it. So preping and varnishing those shelves first, and getting the back cut and varnished? Not really an ideal order to do things.
So, last night after court I unwound with some trimming and cutting of the longer shelves:
And tonight after court I cut and assembled the base of the larger bookcase:
And yes, our garage is a tip. Just wait, I have plans.
Anyhow, hopefully Nikki is kindly going to run me to B&Q (in exchange for piano time) allowing me to grab the sheet (and probably some extra glue) required to allow me to bring this project to completion. It’s amazing how inconvenient building things is with no car. I mean, at a stretch I could cycle there, get it cut to size, strap it to the bike and wheel the bike-and-it home, but it’d be ridiculous, dangerous and difficult.
Thankfully, I have awesome friends.
