The morning's haul of
emails brough one from LinkedIn asking of I knew Callum Moffatt,
Julie Hayes or Suzanne Foreman. The simple answer is "No".
LinkedIn is rubbish. Supposedly about professional networking, I find
it tries to connect me with people I don't know, and on that website
people I barely know are commending me for skills I don't have.
As I drove to work there
were some amazing
figures being banded about on the radio. It is no secret that
should I get squished in a car crash or some other such tragedy then
I would like any and all salvageable organs to be offered up for
transplants to anyone who might use them. Thousands of other people
feel the same way and have registered such an intention. However
forty per cent of such people don't have their wishes honoured. It
turns out that their grieving families say no to allowing organs to
be used. Over a thousand organs that could be used are wasted every
year in this way.
If my nearest and dearest
refuse any of my bits to be used (should I get scrunched) I
will come back and haunt them!!
And then the Minister for
Health was interviewed on the radio. He was outlining the changes he
would like to see in the NHS. One of the changes he would like would
be for hospital doctors to be able to get urgent blood tests done at
the weekend.
My piss boiled.
What does he think I do
for a living? I was under the impression that I was already providing
that service when I work weekends... I can only imagine that he
doesn't realise that this is already happening. And presumably he is
making policy decisions being utterly oblivious of what is actually
happening in hospitals.... I find that a little worrying.
I got to work, we all
speculated about not having to work weekends any more, and then had
something of a sad day. A colleague was retiring today.
Trev's been really great
to work with, and today was the last day.
After work there was a
meal in his honour. Everyone else went home first, but I didn't. I
had a little bus adventure into Canterbury. I thought one pound fifty
was a tad steep for a minute's ride but it was fun. I found a little
back street pub where I had a pint of stout whilst checking theplace
out for a future pub crawl. The New Inn was quite a good place to
visit; might just go back.
I then made my way to the
meeting place; as I walked I found a pub call the the Jolly Sailor
which claimed to be an ale house. It lied. It was a lager house. So I
walked on to Parrots where I met someone with whom I'd worked five
years ago. We had a drink, then another, then more old friends
arrived.
As usual it was too late
when I realised the mistake of having had three pints of stout before
everyone else gets to the pub, but I certainly had a good evening. I
think Trev did too...
I even took
a few photos whilst I was out and about. Some are a bit blurred;
just like my memories of the evening.
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