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  • A few hours my shiny metal ass.

    Did I say it’d take a few hours to get that bike on the road? I recall saying so.

    Yesterday I worked on it for the 4 hours of morning I had and got the brakes rebuilt. Not fitted, but rebuilt. Last night, after my 8 hours of shift work and 2 hours of commuting I got home at 1030, changed and headed out to the garage to continue working on my bike for an hour and a half. I got the brakes together, with brake fluid in, and working if ineffective. This morning I’ve spent a further 2 hours on the bike and got the brakes spongy but maybe acceptable. I need to stop, on the way to the MOT, and get a new sidelight bulb.

    I had to swap the exhaust from Claire on, because I noticed a hole in the one that was on the bike (oops, I thought it wasn’t quite *that* rusty. I may scrounge to Nikki to see if we can’t weld that back up). I’ve got an MOT booked for 1600, I only hope the bloody thing starts, I tried and discovered that the battery (not exactly the most cared for battery in the world) was giving an astounding 9 Volts… when not under load. I didn’t bother to see what the laughably pathetic load-voltage was.

    I also need to swap the clutch lever over, ‘cos otherwise it might fail on that (I’ve no idea how picky this MOT place is, it’s not my usual one which seems to have become very busy; presumably as all the summer bikers get their bikes MOT’d). Ironically, I got the SORN declaration through today; so hopefully I’ll be able to tax’er this afternoon, the day the DVLA’s letter saying the bike’s off the road arrived :-)

    Work yesterday was pretty good, except that I got the time for someone’s tablet moved, and then promptly forgot to give it. Frack. To be fair, yesterday afternoon was chaos in a tin; the ward round happened so late that it was actually occuring during hand over. I got all my competencies signed off, I now need the front sheet signed by Bridgit who’s my associate mentor, but the one who actually has the Mentor qualification. *And* in ultrasuper-good news, I talked to someone who worked at the hospital I’m applying for work at – apparently it’s generally a really damn spiffy hospital to work at; so I’ll get that application off this weekend, maybe even today. And in ultra-ultra-super cool news, Dee agreed to be my referee *smiley*

    All cross your fingers now, I need this job.

    In weird things, I was listening to Radio5Live (yes, yes, but AM radio choices are sorely limited these days. And I got sick of ‘Classic Gold’) and they played… American Edit. And were inciting people to download Mashups. And commenting on the insanity of one thing being classed as a piece of music ‘cos it’s licenced and the other being evil piracy and destruction of the original author’s work, because it’s not licenced. Sometimes I want to hug the BBC.

    Finally, I’ll leave you with the ‘treat me better’ video that James found (James is, incidentally, your source for online coolness),

  • Tired *again*

    So, today was a good day. At least, I think it was a good day. I worked with Claire, who’s really good at standing back and letting me work; which is really nice. I just feel so much more competent after days like that; it’s really what I needed, I’d started to feel completely useless. I got some advice from her a few times, which is what I wanted. Definately better. Yeah.

    The bike bits arrived today, I’m *way* impressed. Incredibly so. I only ordered them yesterday, and here they were. That’s proper Next Day. I’m debating fitting them tomorrow; if I can get the bike up and done tomorrow; well; that’d rock. However, I suspect I’d be ‘pushing my luck’ to get the bike MOT’d and Taxed tomorrow morning. It doesn’t stop the temptation being there.

    I also got a mail back from my Year head. It comprehensively answers the wrong question. I’m not sure why. *sigh*. See, If I can disregard my lowest mark, then I can just ignore the crap essay and concentrate on the future. Otherwise I’ll have to dig out the resubmission stuff. Meeeeh.

    Anyway, bed.

  • A Survey, it’s rare for me, but it was cute

    Mitochondria
    You scored 70 Industriousness, 22 Centrality, and 19 Causticity!
    You’re a mitochondrion! The mitocondria is a “power plant” of the cell. Nothing could ever get done in the cell without you creating energy. Since both the Citric Acid cycle and Oxidative Phosphorylation happen inside the mitochondria, you are critical to every eukaryotic cell. You are always a hard worker, no matter what you are tasked to. Most of the time, you tend to be working in the background, but that often suits you just fine. You get along with almost everyone, and aren’t these the most important things?
    My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

    free online dating free online dating
    		You scored higher than 72% on Industriousness
    free online dating free online dating
    		You scored higher than 18% on Centrality
    free online dating free online dating
    		You scored higher than 54% on Causticity

    Link: The Which Cell Organelle are you? Test written by fading_shadows on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

  • Shock and Awe

    I’m amazed how much this failed essay has got to me. I knew it was crap when I handed it in; but I thought it was maybe a marginal pass. Reading the comments though makes me feel that it’s at very best a pass. At the very best. I’m almost 100% certain it’s not.

    And that somehow has got to me. Given that my worst grade doing biochemistry was an awesome 8% (to be fair, that was a chemistry exam, and I managed to beat some of the chemists in it!), it suprises me how much this has got to me. I think it’s because despite the fact I’m aware that most of the actual assessments in this course have nothing to do with actual nursing, nothing to do with the day to day practicalities; or even the real planning and management processes required later on; they’re just a hoop-jumping-test, I do actually care about the course. Or passing the course, and doing well. And up ’til now I’d been doing well. Not brilliantly, like another member of the course, I just don’t really grok what they want in the essays. I think I’ve handed in a genious piece of work and it comes back saying it’s crap. I think I’ve handed in absolute shite and they pat me on the head and say “good girl, that’s excellent”.

    But this time I was right, it was crap, and it’s come back and is haunting me. And I should just get over it, and I will soon, but it’s bothering me. A lot. Really, a lot. More than is reasonable.

  • Failure

    When I did my Biochem degree, I didn’t really work as such. In fact, I barely worked at all. In fact, even implying that I worked might be inaccurate to an incredible degree. So I was used to failure. In fact, I felt a total failure most of the time, but I was depressed and I didn’t really care about myself.

    These days I’m a much more sane and happy bunny. Indeed, in general I’m a pretty happy individual, but not today, because today I got back the “I didn’t get it” essay. I didn’t get it when I handed it in, I didn’t understand how an essay that was, as far as I could see, descriptive could include the extent of critical evaluation required to be a level 3 essay. Others, they did, I just couldn’t grasp it. I still haven’t entirely.

    Unfortunately, phrases like “very descriptive” and “should have” are scattered through the non-marker’s comments (because they’re working to rule and not marking). I’m 95% certain I’ve failed this essay. Which is the first essay in 3 years which I’ve failed. It whines about me not including a private reflection, which I referenced correctly but didn’t include (what with it being *private*. Fucking uni). But mostly I’m trying to summon the will power to look at it. The worst thing is that if I got 40% (i.e. just a pass) then I could disregard it, ‘cos you get to disregard your lowest mark if you do the disseratation. But if I fail, then I’ve got to re-write it, but I’d still be limited, I think, to 40%. Fuck.

    I’m obsessing about it too. I can’t stop thinking about this stupid damn essay.

    Ah, examining it makes me angry. That helps loads. Comments like “use reference more judiciously”. After “Use available resources… (BNF, research articles)” it says “eg. read BNG, Nursing standard”. How exactly does her fracking comment differ from mine? ARGH. Oh I hate this management fucking crap.

  • International help Kate day

    So, I’m filling in this exciting form to apply for a job. I’d like to send it off in the next couple of days; but I’ve been reminded how much I hate (really hate) application forms. Hell, application forms, interviews, everything.

    So, if anyone has any suggestions for improvement on the following I’d be really grateful:

    Prior to starting my training I worked for 15 months as a healthcare assistant in [Freds Magic Hospial]; this enabled me to gain experience of the hospital environment and of hands on patient care. I have continued throughout my training to work in this role as it provides a degree of continuity with ward work which is not provided by the nursing course. This has given me a good grounding in the interpersonal skills required to engage with patients; and to build a comprehensive and evidence based care programme with the client’s involvement. Maintaining this role has also granted me far greater ward experience than would normally be the case and as staff have been aware of my student status they have often made use of my skills.

    In both roles I have worked in a wide variety of wards and departments (including trauma / orthopaedic, surgical, medical, gynecological, rehabilitation, accident & emergency, assessment and palliative care) spread across four different hospitals and also working in the community.

    I will bring to the ward commitment and enthusiasm for the role, and an appreciation of the importance of team work in the delivery of high quality care. I am a friendly approachable individual with a good grasp of the limitations of my current knowledge and experience as a (soon to be) newly qualified nurse. [I think this should probably read as something about my opportunites to develop as a newly qualified staff nurse rather than my limitations (cheers Aisling!)]

    I am a highly motivated individual, and am keen to both consolidate my knowledge and, over time, to  develop as a nurse within a ward environment. I have particular interest in the needs of disadvantaged social and economic groups within the care process and in the provision of evidence based holistic care.

  • Progressing

    So, I rang BSA Regal and ordered the bits for my bikes; on the basis that I’d rather know that the Charlie’s brake calliper is fixed (and the iffy master cylinder is okay) rather than leave dodgy brake bits in a box where they can shock me later. Fracknuts, I should have got some brakepads too. Although, that said, the ones on Charlie aren’t that worn and could be slapped onto Cherry. Yes. Hrm. We’ll ignore that problem for now.

    That’s 50 quid spent, 30 on Cherry and 20 on Charlie. Not too bad really. Just hope it all works, although given the ultimate bizarreness of the weather recently motorbikes look less fun, especially since my gear is about as waterproof as a paper bag, it’s all up for renewal when I get paid, but hey.

    I also rang the govt. dept that’s been failing to sort out paperwork for me; they’ve extended the deadline again, but are getting a bit difficult about extending it. Given that it’s *their* fault that the paperwork wasn’t sent to the NHS in the first place; well; it feels a bit pot-kettle-black for them to say that the NHS is taking too long. Yes, it is, but if they’d’ve sent it when they said they had, then this’d’ve been sorted by now. I can’t ring the NHS again, not yet anyhow.

    I’m trying to get the nerve together to ring the hospital I want to work at. It’s scary. I’ve half filled in their application form, I just want to have a chat with them about the jobs, and so on. I hate selling myself, I’m not good at it. Yesterday I managed to pay the house money bankers draft back into my account, and the money I withdrew from my credit card (yeah, I know) back into that (which was to pay auction fees).

    It is again scary. I think moving up to B’ham or M’chester will be a good thing. It’ll save me money, it’s like a dry run for Canada – new place, new people, all that crap. Well, b’hams not a new place (it is, in a way, it’s changed so much since I was there). I just like having certainty in my future; and that ain’t what’s there at the moment. I should get on, I’ve got my dissertation to write too.

  • And pause.

    So, I went to see my mom (deliberate) this weekend; I’ve not been down for a while and consequently the list of things that needed doing was quite long. I did start to wonder about how my dad kept up.

    (skip past this bit for the wittery kate talk)
    I… bought fencing material and fenced off with barbed wire both ends of the river (after 6 years of people trespassing and damaging my mum’s garden the fight just got a bit nastier; incidentally, while Nikki I’m sure (being a farm-lass) would have had no problems dealing with barbed wire, I found it almost as much fun as it looked like it’d be); put up the new washing line; repaired the gate; removed the excess fencing from the gate post; ‘repaired’ my mum’s car door lock (it jams, locked, irritatingly); cleaned up mouse crap from high up where my mum couldn’t reach; put up a shelf and hangy things in the shed (well, technically, my mum, in a disturbing character change has decided to become much more independent (she’s perhaps fed up of having broken things around the house waiting for me to visit) so I drilled holes and she screwed the bits of wood up); I also prepared but didn’t put the edging up on the bridge (I think we need some ‘nicer’ wood). This took up the large majority of the weekend and when I left, just before lunch today I was knackered.

    I also checked and found out why the speaker in my car was working intermittently, the ‘quality’ soldering I’d done when I put it in (like a lot of other jobs) was rather botched, so it’d snapped. I put that on my ‘when I get home’ list. However, when I got home I did the supermarket shopping (Woot, I have food!); finally fixed the frying pan that’s been broken for months (now it has a screw made from some high-quality-metal or other which will I’m sure soon add the daily requirement of rust to my diet); the saucepan that’s had a loose handle and thus sat on the table for weeks; the broken wire to the speaker in my car (‘cos I couldn’t go to work without it working!) and now I am… knackered.

    Oh, I also watched Jean de Florette, with my mum, which turned out to be excellent and added to the strangeness (my mum had been excitedly showing me screwdrivers earlier in the day, a quality I presumed I’d inhereted from my dad…) when my mum professed a need for a widescreen telly. I tried and tried to persuade them when my dad was alive, but no need for a widescreen telly ever existed before… suddenly now, I’d given up hope and watching stuff on the ex-rental telly with the poor colour rendition and the flickering from bright to dark had become kind of normal. And then, suddenly, she’s all ‘I need a widescreen telly’. The world is going odd.

    (and stop skipping) 

    Anyway, I had a long chat with my mom about moving. About not being able to afford to stay in Bristol and thinking about moving Northward… I kind of expected a flurry of ‘no’ – me being further away will almost certainly mean less of me seeing my mum. But there was none. My mum basically said ‘for god’s sake, get on with it’. So, now I’m thinking about it more meaningfully. I’ve even got a Birmingham Univeristy Hospital application form sat on my desktop waiting for me to fill it in.

    I guess I’m starting to step outside my comfort zone again. Which is kinda scary. I was talking (I do a lot of that) to Trey about it; and it came down to the fact that I want to leave this country in 2 years. Either I can struggle in Bristol, probably not be able to get the kind of house I want, and so on; or I can move up North, get paid the same, live in a cheaper area, almost certainly find a house I actually want, or at least that’s appropriate and in my price range (and has a garage, hell, I’ve seen a few on Fish4 just scanning the listings). This will hopefully also allow me to save up a bit, and having a garage will mean that left-hooking Rebecca and getting her all prepped for the journey shouldn’t be so hard. So I’m going to give a couple of places a ring on Monday afternoon, see if I can’t scare up some jobs.

    Of course, this is in addition to writing my dissertation; and I’ve realised I really need to start preparing Rebecca for Pride. The call is still out, incidentally for Stewards. We just need two shiny people who’d like to be stewards around a shiny, shiny black Minor. Go look at (last years, okay, I know) the Pride of Minors website. The car that needs stewards is Fifi, the shiny black one, driven by our mate Guy. Go’wan, y’know you want to be a star…

    Anyway, I seem to have stopped, and I want to go play with this form, so I can get it sent off nice and sharpish like. So. Yes. I’m also very tired, and quite hungry (all I ate for lunch today was a slice of plum and chocolate cake).

  • I understand…

    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:

    (more…)

  • Pre-thought

    Okay.

    If I ring Health Match BC; what are the chances they’d be remotely interested in a newly qualified nurse from the UK. Should I just say ‘fuck it’ and go, if they give me the option it’s certainly tempting. Very tempting.

    I’m sick of being at the bottom of the property ladder. I’m sick of renting; and much though I love Lauren, she’s a great housemate, I really want a place of my own. And the prices in the UK are so fucking steep that it’s beyond a joke.

    It seems like my options are:

    – Attempt to rent place in bristol. This will take at least all of my money, probably more. Will probably involve me moving into a bedsit, packing up 90% of that which I own and becoming very depressed.
    – Continue to search for property in Bristol; I have noticed that the properties available in the current auction do not meet my requirements (or at least, are very unlikely to, one remains a ‘vaguely possible’)… and are pretty near my financial limits anyway.
    – Leave Bristol for the Frozen Northern Plains, and find a house, and a job up there; until I can move to Canada (currently awfully tempting).
    – See if I can coax Canada into letting me come over as soon as I’m qualified and registered (also tempting, but less likely to actually work).
    Anyway, I’ve got uni tomorrow so I should go lie down and be miserable in bed.