Songs you have to work for

Some songs just turn up.

Music blogs, Lastfm, whatever.

Something'll be playing in the background in a record store, you hear it, grab it and away you go.

One more for the collection.

There are some that'll take you years to get hold of.
Sometimes you'll get lucky and be able to rip the stream, but anything that involves research, patience, deviousness and charity falls into this category.

A song that you've worked hard for doesn't necessarily imply great artistic or musical quality (although the two aren't mutually exclusive), but the effort involved is what gets them on this list

Absolutely (Story Of A Girl) - Nine Days [Listen]

Ko Samui in 2000. ABC (the Aussie channel, not the American one) started off a pop music program with the opening bars of this one and it was a real stunner. I knew that ""Story of a girl" would probably feature in the title, but it took me YEARS before an obscure reference turned up on the interweb and I could track it down. Probably around 2003. And then it took ANOTHER year before I could get my hands on it. No clips on YouTube back then to make sure that it was the right track, no live streaming on Amazon.
Worth the wait though.

Willin' - Little Feat [Listen]

I never got to see Feat live.
They played Germany on the Warner Brothers tour before I was aware of them, then I missed them.
Again and again and again.
Somehow, one of the youngsters in the mp3 blogosphere (who aren't muchly bothered about the fact that I'm old enough be their Dad) pointed me to a collection of exquisite (and less so) live performances of one of the best bands that ever turned on their amps.

This one's taken from the "Live at Ebbets Field 7/19/1973" - coincidentally my 25th birthday. I am absolutely convinced that I had NO IDEA where I was or what I was doing at the time.
That's the way it should be, too.....


Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead - Fifth Estate [Listen]

This is one of those silly ditties that lodge themselves in your cranium and won't go away. For 40 or so years. (This is one of those songs that the "doesn't necessarily imply great artistic or musical quality" bit refers to, but I AM partial to the "Oooh-la-la" chorusy bit)

But I still liked it and persisted, despite the fact that the 7" vinyl single was selling on Amazon at the wrong side of $50.
Somewhere along the line, I got invited to contribute to the Vinyl Record Day blogswarm, someone heeded my impassioned plea for a digitised version and hey presto, there it was..

Crackles and all.

So Long - Vinegar Joe [Listen]

Vinegar Joe is one of those bands where - when you mention someone who later became famous - everyone goes "I didn't know they played with them..."
Robert Palmer, Elkie Brooks.

OK, so you can get "Rock'n'Roll Gypies - remastered" for bugger all since the Long Tail has moved from being an obscure economics theory to a mainstream marketing tool, but that doesn't count.

THIS one IS vinyl. Really shitty vinyl. It probably took me 2 hours to de-hiss, -scratch and -rumble it to get it to this level of listenability. And I know - there are still some pops.

Adds authenticity.


Country Boy - Head, Hands and Feet [Listen]

And you thought "Ding Dong the witch is dead" was pricey?

"Tracks - Plus" from Head, Hands and Feet, Albert Lee's old band from the 1970's, STARTS at $255 on Amazon.

Was I pleased when I found an American website that had the CD for $15?
You have no idea.

Was I surprised when it turned up from St. Petersburg - the Russian St Petersburg, not the one in Florida?
Mildly.

Was I then surprised that it turned out to be a pirated copy?
Not at all.

Did I keep it?
Absolutely....

Bradford - Besses O' The Barn Band [Listen]

This is the fruit of hours and hours of enjoyable labour spent trawling through the record racks at "Zweitausendeins" in the Kornmarkt in Frankfurt.

You'll find seriously obscure stuff there - Free's "BBC Sessions", Bulgarian orchestral music (to which I've yet to succumb..), Claire Walldorf shellac transcriptions from the 1920s and 1930s.

And John Peel's collection of the 78s his wife used to select week for week for his radio show.

I wasn't even aware of its existence.

I think I actually jumped up and down when I found it.

The Great Unknown - Evermore [Listen]

If I hadn't seen the advert for ""Shave for a Cure" on TV in New Zealand, I wouldn't have heard of "Evermore".

The song sounded like "U2 meets Coldplay", which was good enough for me.

If I hadn't told my mate Jeff Giles at Popdose about the idea - it's a fundraiser for leukemia - and he hadn't blogged it, the appeal would be a couple of thousand bucks poorer.

Not that it was difficult to get the track - grabbed it from the band's website with Audio Hijack Pro (I did buy the CD at SmokeCD, though..)


I Call My Baby Sugar - The Windy City Strugglers [Listen]

Heard it at a concert at the Boat Shed in Nelson, ordered it from Everyman's in Nelson (who didn't hold out much hope of getting hold of it), even Nick Bollinger, the bass player in the band, couldn't find his spare copy for me.

I'd pretty much given up on it until I popped into Everymans a year and a bit later...

The rest of the story's over here

Tags: Nine Days, Absolutely (Story of a girl), Willin', Little Feat, Live at Ebbets Field, Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead, Fifth Estate, So Long, Vinegar Joe, Robert Palmer, Elkie Brooks, Rock'n'Roll Gypies - remastered, The Long Tail, Country Boy, Head, Hands and Feet, Albert Lee, Bradford, Besses O' The Barn Band, Zweitausendeins, John Peel, Sheila Peel, The Pig's Big 78's - A Beginner's Guide, The Great Unknown, Evermore, Shave for a cure, Jeff Giles, Popdose, I Call My Baby Sugar, The Windy City Strugglers, Everyman, Nick Bollinger

Only in Nelson

Can't get much more direct than that, can you...

Seen at Monaco

MFTP celebrates giant's 3rd birthday

You should have seen the cake......

Baby you can drive my car

That's the thing with the Bionic Leg, of course.
At some stage, it'll want to get driving again.

So you do the research.

You get a bandwidth like this:

• When your doctor says it's OK
• When you feel confident
• Not before 6 weeks
• Not before 3 months

The hospital blurb says "Ask your doctor"

So I asked the doctor at the physiotherapy clinic during the final check-up (when she also determined that ''someone'' had neglected to remove the drainage tubes sutures, one of which she whipped out - long little bastard - and one of which is still burrowed into my thigh and is resisting removal. But that's another story)

From her reaction, you'd have thought I'd shoved my hand up her skirt...

'Well, I certainly can't tell you if you can drive" she said.

"You're a doctor" I said "The surgeons say that I should ask my doctor. Right here"

She: "You can drive if you feel fit enough"

Me: "So do you think that the muscle tone and reaction speed in my right leg's sufficient to safely drive a car?"

She: "Well, all I can say is that when my colleague's called as an expert witness in court cases involving accidents involving hip replacement patients, he'll say that anything within the first 3 months is at the patient's own risk."

So if I've understood this correctly, they're quite happy to let you drive ""if you feel fit enough", but when it comes to the crunch, it's BOHICA time, with them lining up on the side of the insurance company.

So thank you ever so much.....

The Wall of Thorns

And then there's the Wall of Thorns.

The water in Bad Kreuznach is ascribed magic properties, which might be good PR by the City Fathers who are onto a nice little moneyspinner, or it might actually be true.

What isn't disputed , though, is that the springs around here have a saline concentration that made it commercially viable to produce common salt here in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

So instead of sending people to the North Sea to experience the bracing maritime air and supercharge the lungs, why not recreate the same (SAME.....?) environment here.

In the middle of the woods?

What you do is build a sodding great wooden wall, stuff it with thorny bits from trees that you've chopped down and then trickle water down it.

Then you pump the water up to the top ad infinitum and the people will gather around and breath the salt-laden air, hold seashells to their ears and think that they're on the beach.

What you DON'T want to do is look too closely at the water gathered at the bottom, waiting to be recycled vertically.

Not a good idea.

"Murky" doesn't even BEGIN to describe it.

I think I feel a severe case of Legionnaires' Disease coming on…..

It's a gas...

Things are moving towards a tipping point over here.

Despite the almost incestuous relationship that Germans have with their cars, there'll come a time when there'll be a lemming-like rush away from personal transportation to public transport.

I have no idea when the pain-point will be reached, but if oil reaches $200 a barrel - forecast for this year - it can't be far away.

It's not actually the price of the core product that leverages the price at the pump - it's the draconian tax regime that's crept in over the years and given a kick up the bum by the Greens when they formed a coalition with the SPD back in the 1990s

With oil at its current price of $120 a barrel, tax makes up a good 60% of the pump price of €1.50 litre.

There's a flat tax (€0.67/litre - green), the oil companies' revenue (€0.59/litre - grey) and GST/VAT - a tax on a tax, ferchrissake....!(€0.24/litre - orange).

So even if the multis and sheiks were to give the stuff away for free, we'd still be paying €0.80 a litre. And if you're in the States and moaning about $4 a gallon, just don't!

It's close to 9 bucks over here.......

And it surprises you that we drive fuel-efficient cars over here.....?

Now, what was that about....

..coxless fours....?

Avert thy eyes....

.....for thou art a German walker.

One thing I'll never come to terms with is the phenomenon of the Invisible Walker.

You''re out in the open countryside, miles from anywhere and along comes a walker. Perhaps even a group.

You're about 500 metres apart and the closer you get to each other, the more interesting the side of the path on the opposite side of the track becomes.

AND THEY'LL WALK RIGHT PAST YOU WITHOUT SO MUCH AS A NOD!!!

You're the Invisible Walker!

I've never come across this in any other culture - you ALWAYS say "Hello" and - depending on your language skills - frequently compare notes on where you''ve just come from and where you're going.

I've developed a ploy, though.

You wait until they're at about a 60º angle from you and bellow " GUTEN TAG", which is normally enough to jolt them out of "IGNORE AT ALL COSTS" mode and force a shamed reaction.

It's a fine art - blurt it out too early and they'll pretend that they were going to greet you ALL ALONG; leave it too late and you reap the acoustic fruits of your labour, but you don't get the visual benefits of the shamed glance.

And don't get me started about getting into elevators.

Different tactic needed here.

You get in and before the doors close issue a polite "Guten Tag"

Nothing. Not a flicker. Zero.

So you then look in the eye - they have too look somewhere - and say "Dann ebbe net...!"

Which means "OK, so DON'T have a nice day".

Perverse enjoyment, I know, but you'll never run out of opportunities....

Coneheads

This is the strangest darn thing.

It reminds me of those Hollywood B-movies where the aliens have invaded Earth and taken over mankind's brains, leaving them to drift around in a zombified state and gather at pre-determined locations for some more brainwashing or to receive instructions from the ruling alien clan.

But - this being Bad Kreuznach - it's supposed to be good for you.

There's a pipe emanating from what appears to be an altar (this is where my over-fertile imagination kicks in....) that sprays a fine mist of healing waters into the gathered throngs.

Who just sit there for hours on end and then supposedly throw away their crutches or abandon their wheelchairs and skip joyfully into the sunset.

I tried it for 10 minutes and all that happened is that my "Economist" got all soggy.

And then the wind shifted and someone else got the downwind benefits.

They were up on their feet in no time, so perhaps it does work.

Either that or there nothing wrong with them in the first place and they just didn't want to get soaked....

Tracks of my tears

Not wishing to be blasphemous or anything, but these three dudes captured in stained glass in the chapel at St Vincenz hospital reminded me so much of the one of those 60s/70s Motown backing combos.

The Miracles, Smokey Robinson's vocal harmonisers, for example.

Either that or the 'See no evil etc' primates

More! Please!

My friend John Whatley has 2 favourite sayings:

'Aren't we lucky people' for use at times of sheer enjoyment. '

People just don't think' at displays of extreme thickness.

Now, why on EARTH would ANYONE in their right mind call a flash hotel by THIS name, unless room service REALLY features hookers in black leather with chains and whips?

Maybe it does.

Maybe this needs checking out......

Planet Wa(y)ves

Kreuznach has a wonderful park called the Roseninsel (Rose Island) which used to be an island before they filled in part of the river in 1900 and which gets its name from the Rose Growers' Exhibition held there in 1905.

Sprinkled among the usual sculptures of Bismarck and Kaiser Bill, they've got a really cool Planet Way, with a sculpture of the sun and discs representing the planets set up at the correct relative distances along the river.

So if you're strolling along at a normal pace between Earth and Venus, you're actually (relatively) flogging along at three times the speed of light.

(That's wot it sez 'ere, Brian..)

Unless you're a quadruped, of course.

Then you're lucky to do half that.....

Cold Turkey

I imagine that life without painkillers during the first couple of weeks after they fitted the Bionic Leg would have been decidedly unpleasant.

(When they halved the dosage on Day 8, it cut my time on the racetrack from 34 seconds to 46 seconds.)

So I've been on Oxygesic 10mg twice a day for the last 5 weeks almost.

It appears that I have developed a dependency.

In other words, I'm a drug addict.

Fuck this.

FUCK THIS

(Sorry, Ruth, but nothing else really expresses my feelings at this moment...)

If you do a bit of research, you''ll find that the manufacturer in the States was fined one third of a billion dollars for making false claims about addiction potential and reduced withdrawal symptoms, among other transgressions.

And that people grind it up, mix it with water and mainline it into their veins.

And that you get a life sentence in Canada for possession for the purpose of trafficking.

And how did I find out I'm addicted?

I decided to find out what the pain threshold was like.

I mean, I'm walking 6 -10km a day, doing physiotherapy at the clinic and then an hour by myself each day, so I figured I'm probably over the worst.

Muscle pain, for sure, but that's what you get when you're stretching muscles and tendons that you haven't used for 3 years.

So I cut the dosage to zero.

My skin felt like things were crawling all over it.

The shakes.

Freezing.

I was pretty happy when the medication cut back in again, but it was a nasty couple of hours.

I have absolutely NO idea what it's like for someone on heroin, although this stuff's supposedly got more grunt than morphine.

I don't WANT to know.

When I described the symptoms, the doctor said "Oh. We should have reduced the dosage at LEAST a week ago"

So now it's half dosage for a week and then another third reduction for another week and so on until I'm clean.

Fuck them.

FUCK THEM

Tags: addiction, dependency, oxygesic, oxycodone, withdrawal, cold turkey

Bad move

Given the nature of the asylum, it's festooned with grab-handles, emergency bell-pulls and panic buttons for those 'Oooooops' moments.

Something you DON'T want to do,though, is to bump this button with your head (or elbow or whatever) in the middle of the night.

They had the defibrillator pads on me within seconds amd it was only through my energetic protests that I was able to avoid immediate cardio-vascular surgery.....

Values are alive and kicking at St Vincenz...

One of the nurses on 5B got reminiscing about working nightshift on Rosenmontag, the culmination of the Karneval season.

'What really pissed me off' she said 'was the way the parents would turn up and mollycoddle these semi-comatose kids who were covered with vomit and whose lives we'd just saving by pumping out their stomachs'

'It'd be like '' Oh you poor little thing! You just sleep it off and Mumsy will bring you some clean clothes and take you home to bedsywedsy'' '

'If I'd gotten into that state' she said 'my Dad would have made me walk home through the village so that everyone could see just what sort of a tramp I was.'

'And if it were up to me, I'd film them having their stomach pumped and give them the DVD to remind them just how demeaning the whole thing is'

'In fact' she said in a conspiratorial whisper ' I used to take a couple of pictures with their cellphone and put it back in their pocket.'

'Just something to show their mates....'

Way down upon the Swan-ey river.

The Nahe river iin Kreuznach is just teeming with wildlife.
I ventured a km or so upstream the other day to where it's still a real river (before going all bipolar as it runs through the city,showing off doing white water rapids on one side and pretending to be a Dutch canal on the other) and discovered herons, cormorants and families of newly hatched ducklings.
And a swan
All very country-ish

Rats

In she charged, syringe at the ready at FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE BLOODY MORNING!

Sod this for a game of soldiers.

This is the rat poison that's supposed to stop you from getting DVT and it's whacked into the body subcutaneously daily.

Basically an anticoagulent. Kills rats, not supposed to kill humans.

Back at the Vincenz Hospital, I was allowed to inject it myself (which is no big deal) - it was either that or bloody Tim painting a dartboard on your stomach and shooting for a bulls-eye from the door.

So I toddled along to the warders and said I'd like to inject my rat poison myself, thank you very much

Shock! Horror! You can't do that! What if everyone wanted to do that? And it's not rat poison either

I said it was either that or I'm barricading my cell door.

So you don't really know about this and you''ll now have to eat your monitor to destroy the evidence.

Omigod

Here at the Asylum, they have novel ways of keeping the inmates occupied.

Making lanterns out of paper and cellophane.

Decorating candles with bambis, angels and glittery stuff

Make your very own teddy bear in 3 easy lessons.

Probably basket-weaving, too, if you ask nicely.

Not really my tasse de thé, as they say, but this evening I wavered.

A concert!

Some Johnny in tails tinkling away on the ivories of the grand piano that graces the main lobby and a flossie in an outfit that Ms jb classified as "elegant", but which was somewhat too Bosnian Hillcountry Traditional for my liking, was warbling her way through some light classical stuff, to the obvious enjoyment of the gathered blue-rinsed quadrupeds

As I said - on the verge of stopping a bit to listen when the bloody Metrognomes started swaying in time to the music and clapping rhythmically.

And then they all started singing along......

I'm off to bed to watch "The Stones in the Park"….......

I knew I'd find a use for that pot...

Ooops - ceramic masterpiece....


Petra Bittl's excellent pot (around here, it's a toss-up between "hieroglyphics" or "barbed wire"...) certainly does come in useful when you're quadruped.....

(She's probably never going to talk to me again...)

Tags: ceramics, Petra Bittl, hieroglyphics, barbed wire, quadruped

It must be love...

Escaped from the Asylum for the weekend (it's Whitsun over here and tomorrow being a holiday, the sadists also get a couple of days off. Not that they deserve it, of course) and the first person who came charging down the road was Sophie, with a very concerned look on her face.

As soon as she'd determined that Leg 2.0 was in no danger of falling off, inspected the X-rays and the incision, she shot back up the road to return with a big homemade red rose.

"It's for you" she said.

I think the bright bit hovering over her head is a halo......

Frank the Potter

My mate, Frank the Potter, descended on his mountain bike from the depths of the Hünsruck hinterlands the other day to inspect the Bionic Leg and incent me in joining him in sampling the delights of the fleshpots of Bad Kreuznach.

Pretty tame evening, actually - leisurely stroll (constrained by the speed of the resident quadruped) around the Parc Fermë of the Tulpen Rally and then on to a bar next to the river for a couple of beers and a pizza for Frank and a couple of apple juice spritzers for me.

Good guy is Frank, that's for sure.

Filth and Depravity

The inordinately talented Beate Thiesmeyer and Michael Sälzer are currently in China as part of a select group of German ceramicists chosen to create works for the Ceramic Arts Centre in Fuping.

I helped Michael (who's become something of a mate over the last year or so) to set up a blog (www.keramixinchina.blogspot.com) to report on their progress.
In German, which is a shame, because Beate's a crash-hot journalist and she deserves a wider audience.

So I figured I'd use the internet kiosk in the Patients' Games and Reading Room here at the asylum to get up to speed.

Type in the URL and up flashes 'Access Denied - Objectionable Content'

It appears they've been using words like 'Great Wall of China' and 'Breakfast'

And - worst of all - 'Noodle Soup'.

They need to go and wash their mouths out with soap.......

Universal Neuroton

I don't mind the sadistic physiotherapists here at the Karl Aschoff Rehab (no, this is nothing LIKE the Betty Ford Foundation and Amy Winehouse hasn't been here either...) but the Universal Neuroton machine gives me the heebyjeebies....

They strap electrodes at either end of the incision (which I'll admit looks more professional by the day) and crank up the voltage until your brain's on the verge of being scrambled.

And leave you there for 10 minutes.

But it's the bloke with the bolt through his neck and the big scar across his forehead who's got me worried.

Igor, I think they call him....

Tucker

A week's a long time in politics. someone said. (Harold Wilson, I think.)

It's nothing compared with a week in hospital, even one with the excellent surgical staff and medical support people that you'll find at the Vincenz Hospital in Mainz.

It's not that the food's that BAD.

It's just that it's institutional catering, without a lot of fresh veges and an utter lack of seasoning or herbs.

This is what I'm going to do when I escape:

I'll get a ripe San Mazano tomato, still warm from the vine, tear up a
buffalo mozzarella into bite-sized pieces, glug some good olive oil over it all with a splash of balsamico from Chateau Canorgue, rip some fresh basil leaves on top with freshly ground pepper and sea salt

Thick slices of freshly baked ciabatta to mop up the plate.

Please excuse me while I go and wipe the saliva from my keyboard.....

Get well soon

This turned up on the doorstep the other day from Sophie, my 8 year old friend from up the road.

Now wasn't that nice

Visitors 3

And some more.

If nothing else (and believe me, there's so much more...) you can rely on the Niklas family.

This is Christoph and Uschi's daughter Suzie with her 2 littlies, Lucy and Kalle, who popped in (and made serious dent in my secret hoard of bikkies)

No, they didn't specially drive all the way from Trier to see me, but they were in Mainz for the day and zipped over.

Now, wasn't that nice.

A stitch in time saves nine

Dr Bayer was noticeably pleased with his workmanship on yesterday's inspection tour after they pulled the suture and revealed the masterpiece to the world.

"THIS is what you'll show your mates" he said proudly. "Not your X-ray pictures"

I don't yet share his enthusiasm.

Looks too much like a badly trussed chook to me....

Pressies

In an attempt to flee the boredom and the constant moaning around here, Ms jb shot through to visit her girlfriend Gudrun (who's married to my ex-coworker Schnookie) the other day and came back with a Financial Times Weekend.

And so nicely wrapped, too, (although I'm pretty sure that was more Gudrun than Schnookie.....)

AND a piece of cheesecake.

Now, wasn't that nice.

Medicine Man

"Bloody hell" he's said to have exclaimed after he'd opened up my leg

"Look at the size of that sodding thigh bone"

This is Dr Bayer, Medicine Man at the St Vincenz Hospital in Mainz and a graduate of the illustrious Sawbone University.

"There wasn't a lot left to take out, actually" he said to me the next day.

"Don't know what happened to the cartilage, but it appears to have done a runner"

A guy like this, I can relate to….

Sod's Law

Here's something to while away the time.

Hobble along on your crutches to the lifts and press the button to go down to the ground floor.

Sod's Law has it that the first lift (out of four) to come will be the one furthest away from where you're standing.

Lurch over in its vague direction only to have the doors close in front of your nose.

Position yourself strategically and press the button again.

Lift comes, make a run for it (MAKE A RUN! What a fucking joke...) and miss it again.

We''ve now taken 2 lifts out of contention so it should a piece of cake, despite the fact that they're the furthest apart.

What happens?

Lift #1 turns up again....

At least it's giving me some exercise...

Pit stop

This is Tim, Head Honcho of Station 5b.

I was on the racetrack the other day and he looms into view with his trolley loaded with instruments of torture and degradation.

"Let's have look at the plasters" he says.

"Ah" with discernible pleasure "it's soaked through"

Rips off the bandage covering the holes where the drainage tubes were (and which are still exuding gunge in not inconsiderable quantities) and goes all lyrical:

"Blut und Eiter stimmt uns heiter"

Rough translation: Blood and pus gives me a buzz

Cleans it up, whacks on a new bandage - I'm still hanging there in my crutches, remember - and sends me on my way.

Pretty much like a Formula 1 pitstop, realy….....

Ode on a bottle

To the tune of "You are my sunshine"

You are my piss pot
My only piss pot
My bladder's happy
When you are near
I never knew just
How much I need you
So please don't take
My piss pot away

They did anyway.

Hop tea

Father's Day in Germany is celebrated on Ascension Day (which this year happens to coincide with May Day)

It traditionally involves copious amounts of alcohol, revelry and hoonish behaviour, starting early in the morning and continuing until everyone falls over.

Being stuck here in the Infirmary naturally limits potential for participation this year, so spirits were pretty low.

Dinner time.

Did my usual "No peppermint tea, thanks"

Dinner tray wafts in and Tim says " Thought you might like some hop tea instead"

Hop tea?

There's the usual mug with a tea-bag tag hanging out..

Doesn't LOOK much like tea.

Doesn't SMELL much like tea, either.

(Doesn't smell like peppermint tea, for sure. Thank goodness)

Penny drops.

Beer!

(Non-alcoholic, but it's the thought that counts)

(It has to be said that semantic camouflage has a long and healthy tradition in Germany – cars are "rolllende Blech" (rolling metal), a bicycle is a wire donkey, a pair of specs is a nose bicycle, wine is vine juice and beer goes under the cloak of barley juice.)

But I've never heard of hop tea

Rivalen der Rennbahn

There used to be a schonky program on German TV called "Rivals of the Racetrack" about family feuding between a bunch of horsey upper class toffs in northern Germany.

This is my rival of the racetrack here (the corridor down to the HNO Clinic and back) - Hans Ludwig, my roommate.

He's pretty experienced in this sort of stuff - he had his other hip done last year and a knee's up for renewal too at some stage.

As soon as one of us gets ahead by a round, it's up on your crutches, into the starting gates and off towards the finishing post.

Down to 70 seconds today.

Should break the Sound Barrier by the weekend.......

Mum, I don't feel well

When your Mum's a nurse, you're up Shit Creek if you try to throw a sickie.

"Sick? You're not sick! The folks on Ward 5b are sick. Now get up and get off to school..."

This is Semra, pretty much the nicest nurse on the ward (and I can't imagine her being like that to her littlies)
And smart with it.

We were talking about our backgrounds - she's of Turkish heritage - and she suddenly asked "What was integration like for you?".

No-one's ever asked me that.

I'd never thought about it before - I just sort of merged in, I guess and it was definitely more difficult for her - but it saddens me that there are so few interactions between cultures at this level.

We'll have to continue the discussion tomorrow while she's washing my legs ....