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So, one of the church’s fine clergy has stepped up and declared that gay men* should have identifying tattoos on their faces, informing the world that they’re gay. He also wants a return to anti-glbt teaching. But why stop there; why not ensure that gay people are easily identifyable with pink triangles, perhaps green triangles for criminals and anti-social types, and hell, the unemployed could have a black triangle. Y’know, we could have yellow triangles for Jewish people. Perhaps for him though, the most important people to identify would be those who we should maybe give a red triangle to – the damn liberals.

Oh, for a return to the delightful days of the Nazis, when we could easily identify those we hate and segregate, punish and imprison them.

Thank you Reverend Mullen (rector of St Michael’s Cornhill and St Sepulchre) for making it all so clear.

* I’m presuming it’s targeted at gay men, if we delve into his homophobic little head we’ll probably find he wants something else done to lesbians, the text of his post does say ‘homosexuals’ though, and given that Sodomy’s not so common between lesbian couples I’m presuming that tattoo is inappropriate…

So, it’s been a frantic weekend. I’m on nights next week, then on ATNC. At the end of that week I’m picking up Sherry and Terry at the airport so we’re trying to get the house into a fit state, which isn’t easy because the builders are moving at the pace of dead sloaths.

We spent 5 hours yesterday finding shoes to wear to the wedding, Kathryn’s had to get some to modify and craftify because the only suitable and nice shoes we found for her had been styled by someone who imagined that welding a huge lump of gold-coloured-plastic and faux-diamond-plastic to the toe would improve a classic shoe design. Let’s just say it didn’t.

I escaped far more lightly, although we did visit every shoe and wedding shop in central Reading. And one in Slough.

We picked the colours for the kitchen, and bought that, and ceiling paint. We put together the futon (so we have somewhere to sleep when Sherry and Terry are here), we put up shelves (lots of them!), assembled bathroom furniture, put up the towel rail, moved the tall-boy into the bedroom, moved stuff up into the attic, and Kathryn (mostly, I helped a bit) cleaned the floor in the office. She even put down the rug that goes in the office.

Unfortunately, I failed to use plumbers putty around the sink drain (which is now leaking), and the bath drain, and the shower drain (as it happens, which is probably leaking onto the concrete) and the toilet cistern (which has so far held up). I shall be off to the shop to purchase some plumber’s putty tomorrow which’ll allow me to fix the sink and the bath (albeit not easily). The toilet cistern’s also do-able but I may leave that a day or two.

The bad one’s the shower. If it weren’t bad enough that the sealant strip refuses to stick to it (I can make the silicone stick to the frigging tiles perfectly, but it just peels off after a while, no matter how clean or dry it is). But now I need to lift a tile (well, I think replacement’s the only option) cut an access hole in the floor and remove and replace the sink drain. Bollocks-to-it is the only phrase that springs to mind.

Still, I think that one will have to wait until after the ceremony. Despite the burgoning list of items to do before the ceremony, I think I’ll try and get the sink and cistern sealed. I’ll try and get the bath done… Bah. It’s all fricking annoying, really. Still, you only bugger a job like this up once, eh. I think we’ll call this a ‘learning experience’. I wanted to get the toilet cistern down to see if I could sort the flapper-valve’s failure to seat properly (I can’t imagine I can, but hey)). So I guess this is encouragement to do that.

Well, what do you expect. Overtired, ‘s me. I can’t seem to get up to doing any work of any substance, but I did do the Manual Handling Online Doojit for my agency work; and similarly effective work wise was organising the delivery of items from our wedding list (they’re coming!). My main problem, today, I feel is a complete absence of coffee. I had a lousy cup of Earl Gray that I made this morning… and that’s it. How am I meant to survive on that?!

On the plus side I have the bits required to fix the two broken windows (and apart from one of them being on the upper floor of the house, reachable only by a ladder, then it should be all hunky dory. Of course, the fact it’s cold and horrid at the moment, as a general rule, does mean that I’m less enthused about fixing them.

The hammering and general thunking that’s going on doesn’t help with studying either, to be brutally honest, and while I’m terrified to realise that thanks to the wonderful shift-rostering I’ve done in conjunction with my ward manager I’m working nights again the week after next… so I really need to get my lazy ass in gear and get understanding this course, the fact is I’m just too frigging tired today :(

What I may do, however, is eat another plum.

So, ‘scuse the post spam, but I thought I should clarify that whilst I’m exhausted I am up and surviving the day. I don’t feel as attrociously awful as I might – although my stomach is still churning away. Maybe microwave lasagne and microwave mushroom stroganoff is not the way to live. I’m sure it is possible to live healthily with only a microwave, for my mum has some incredibly cunning microwave only recipes, but we don’t…

I am sitting awaiting the arrival of the builders so I can head out to Lidl and get the Orchids and the USB hub. I’ve made the world’s worst cup of tea, which is a shame, ‘cos it’s probably the only hot drink I’ll get today. I’ve sadly noticed that the sockets I sunk in the kitchen aren’t even. They’re all within about an inch of each other, but it’s quite frustrating to realise how far out one of them is. Well, one of the ones that was meant to be level. I may end up tetrising the kitchen, or I may end up just plain tiling it, but either way I’m going to have to try and hide the misleveling of the plugs. For all my laughing at the people who built the house’s failure to use a level I’ve gone and bloody done it myself :)

Ah well.

In other news….uh….what was I going to write here?

I’ve done some more of the ATNC course…no, that wasn’t it… I don’t think I was planning to write about the DAF (ting ting ting), or the poems or that we wrote out the order of the ceremony… poot. I did have something to say. Well, expect more post spam if it comes back to me.

Ah, no, you’re saved. So, yes, I e-mailed one of the ‘we’ll get you to Vancouver’ companies, it seems that the schedule we’d laid out was about right; assuming they’ll let me apply with only 1-and-a-bit year’s experience. I’m praying that they will, because I really want to get out of Slough. And I’d rather do it in a civilised one-step-leap rather than a move-elsewhere-then-abroad-twin-step-leap which it would have to be, because I concur with Kathryn’s desire to be out of Slough at the end of another year.

One of the things which struck me, is my brain’s inability to understand the size of the world. The world can seem so very small, just yesterday we chatted to Sarah on the phone, and a couple of weeks ago we were sat in her lounge chatting away. Getting my brain to follow the reality that they’re thousands of miles away is hard. That hours must elapse on planes between seeing them and seeing my family isn’t something which comes easily to my head…

Anyway, now you’re awake, whatcha doing with your day?

I’d forgotten how unutterably frustrating and upsetting it is not to be able to sleep. I’ve led in bed for 45 minutes with the only thoughts in my mind being how tired I am and how physically tired I feel and my brain trying to will me to sleep. I get up now and feel the urge to sleep. But laying there it’s completely elusive. I counted breaths, I counted anything I could, I curled around Kathryn, Kathryn curled around me. But sleep remains elusive. I still feel slimey from napping in my clothes yesterday (in bed) but it was cold, I was tired.

I will be exhausted today, because I feel exhausted now. I feel like crying. I do not take sleep deprevation well, and though I remember insomnia from university, days and days of sleeping for a few hours here and there, and spending hours creating on the computer, I do not remember the exhaustion, the frustration, and the desperate desire to sleep. My eyes are tired and close while I type, I’ve picked up the ATNC manual but I am not conviced I can read it. I miss the lounge where I could have curled up on the Sofa with the manual and the little standard lamp and waited for sleep to overcome me. Now I sit in the upright chair in the computer room, scrunching as much as I can, but sleep won’t come here.

Bollocks. I should’ve known better than to nap the day after nights.

It’s 3:06am, and I’m regretting the nap I took yesterday afternoon, or perhaps the large latte (from Krispy Kreme, no less, I had a moment of weakness that lasted approximately from the minute Kathryn rang saying she was at Tesco’s to the moment that I got to the Krispy Kreme doughnuts place), or perhaps it was the crappy microwave meals we’ve been eating and the fact my stomach’s churning somewhat.

Perhaps the real reason is my body has no idea what time it is. In the last 5 weeks I’ve moved time forward 12 hours to work nights (1 week), back 4 hours to be in the States (3 weeks), forward 8 hours to be back here (6 days), 12 hours forward to work nights (8 days) and now back, well, I’ve tried to get it back to UK time. I caught a cold for the first time in months, my stomach’s not happy (although that might well be microwave food, which has never agreed with me terribly well), and I feel cold and tired. Although it quite possibly is just cold.

Because I’ve not been sat in the Lounge, but instead perched under the covers on the bed during the day I’ve got that feeling I get when I’m ill, slightly icky, slimey, just ick. I feel like I need a shower. I doubt that’d help though. I should be sleeping and am hoping that this journal post will kill enough time that my tired body will over-rule my over-tired brain which is keeping me up.

I did have a little go at playing Russia Block (a tetris clone) on my mp4 player, but it has an annoying mis-code. The power-off button is used as a control button, and if you press it a second too long the darn thing switches off. Also, given it’s cheapness I’m pretty sure that the buttons are going to be fairly poor quality, so playing tetris on it probably isn’t a great idea. My main idea for killing time is to strip and sort the Clamshell laptop – it’s got a dodgy power supply connector – I’m presuming that it’s broken at the mainboard, the problem being that that means I have to get to the main board, and they’re not exactly user friendly in design.

Although that was a cute idea – I’ve realised while I’ve been typing that the Torx drivers required are in the shed. The shed is at the end of the garden. So I don’t think that’s a terribly good idea. I think I’ll watch some Grand Designs and see if I can re-find sleep in a bit. I was hoping that someone USian would be online, but I only know Sarah’s IM (yay for LJ) but she’s not online. So I’m lurking on IM and bored…and tired. I need to read ATNC tomorrow; go to Lidl and get a couple of Orchids and a USB Hub (because I’ve reached the stage on the Mac where there aren’t enough ports, so the printer, keyboard and mouse can all share one…

Hrm. Rambly tired post. Yay for me. I think I’ll stop now. At least the music’s good.

Hey, and welcome to the new people on LJ who’ve friended me. If I’ve not friended you back, and you use the Cyrillic alphabet then, uh, sorry… While I’m sure you’re interesting people I’ve no idea what you’re saying – and attempting to translate your language using Google results in a journal that reads much like the ‘Catalogue’ (or manual as I optmistically call it) for my MP4 player. I have vague plans to learn Russian (hell, I want a Ural so that’s a handy skill); but haven’t done so yet (I used to know the Russian Alphabet, and that’s about as far as I got), but until then, hey! Hope you’re enjoying the English (or Ehglisn as the manual calls it) language version of my journal :)

Anyhow, it’s 1524 and I should be working on ATNC. I’ve been doing it all afternoon (I got up somewhat late and then watched Cutting Edge’s: The Ambulance, 8 Minutes to Disaster) but my builder just unleashed the power of dust on me (with a +4 goggles modifier, I fear). To give you an idea, the windows in the rest of the house are shut, the doors ‘twixt the cutting and here were shut, the door between the kitchen (where he’s cutting) and the rest of the house has been taped over with plastic, then plaster board’s been applied over that.

About half an hour in I got the vague impression there was dust getting in to the room – and looked at the floor between the bedroom and the lounge and noted a cloud of dust slowly rising. I got up, stuck my head in the office to see a room with a white-red tinge and looking for all the world like a set in some kind of dust-bowl film. Taking this as my cue to go outside I shut both doors (the bathroom with it’s tiled floor seems, thankfully, to have more or less escaped (although the ventilator’s open in that room) and went out the front door to our Mars Moonscape. A plume of red dust floated out from the corridor between our house and the neighbours. The minor is coated, the DAF being further away has, I think, escaped. From this mist, coughing, emerged my builder, who looked like he’d been an extra in a Sony Bravia advert.

Now he’s finished I’ve performed a degree of dust clearance by turning the fan on in the office with the window open, I’ve just stuck it in to the bedroom… it does appear to be achieving the desire of keeping the dust more or less airborn and floating some of it out the window.

Strangely the lounge doesn’t seem substantially different to how it was after the first day of building when they failed to tape up the door way (dust sheets are misnamed). In the words of their manager – it’s the kind of mistake his builders only make once, and the room will be cleaned (the carpet, sofa and chair cleaned with a professional furniture cleaner).

My black laptop is currently white. Very mac.

So, I watched Cutting Edge – which features ambulance crews I know. It’s interesting; seeing it from the view of an emergency nurse I think it’s probably not an unreasonable view of the crews on the road – of the dark humour we all maintain which keeps our sanity in check, of the way you laugh. But I can also see that the from the perspective of the general public it could be difficult to understand. When you’ve not met hundreds of people who’ve taken an overdose, often because of an argument with a partner, who massively overwhelm the number of people you’ll meet who have severe mental health problems, or who self harm, then the comments about overdosing because your partner left you almost certainly seem glib. Stella and Ian are a great crew, and I’d be very happy to see them turn up, and I know they are sympathetic with people – but their portrail didn’t seem that way… It’s difficult, in 45 minutes can you capture why people do the job they do.

I just read the ATNC description of Trauma / ER nurses and I’ll tell you something it ain’t that flattering. Looking at it objectively I can see myself there, described in some slightly uncomplimentary ways (Strong need to be needed? Check. Bored easily? Check. Short attention span? Check.), and I know that I sit in the coffee room and joke about the people I’ve treated. If I didn’t then I’d not be able to cope with doing chest compressions on someone nearly 10 years younger than me, when it’s obvious he’s dead but you just want to give it that one extra round to make sure that you’ve covered every possible base, ‘cos you shouldn’t die in your 20s. Or to care for the older patient who’s been left in bed 24/7 because the care home don’t have ‘the staff or equipment’ to give her the physio she should have had to get her back on her feet. Or to deal appropriately with abuse from someone who’s so drunk they’ve collapsed, been incontinent and yet still think the NHS owes them something.

Ordinary people doing extraordinary things in extraordinary circumstances should perhaps be given the leeway to develop appropriate coping mechanisms, and the criticisms I’ve heard from some patients of the staff who were in cutting edge are frankly unfounded. I suspect most of them still think of Nurses, Doctors and Ambulance People as some kind of ministering angel, who’ll make it all better, and forget we are just ordinary soles who need to deal with our every day life, go shopping and cook dinner when we go home…

I think that may have been a bit of a sub-rant review… well, I blame it on coming off nights. That and the fact that our house is filled with dust.