I was awake
before the alarm this morning. Not by much, but still awake. Over brekkie I
watched an episode of "Little Britain" (go Netflix!).
After all these years it is still funny. I got myself organised, and letting
sleeping dogs lie I set off to work. Yesterday the weather forecast had told me
there would be a hard frost this morning. There wasn't.
As I drove
the pundits on the radio spewed their usual brand of drivel. There would seem
to be a national shortage of medicines. The people being interviewed on the
matter were crystal clear that Brexit was not to blame. Apparently pharmacies
and patients and GPs are stockpiling them for fear of shortages after Brexit
which has caused shortages now. But Brexit is not to blame.
Personally
I'd lump "Brexit" and "fear of Brexit" in
together, but what do I know?
Needless to
say there was loads of talk about Brexit itself. Loads of talk, but no news
about it. We've had all the speculation ad-nauseum; I think it fair to
say we are all sick of it. It is now time to crap, or to get off the pan (to
coin a phrase).
There was
also talk about the age of the rings of the planet Saturn. There has been a marked change in the way
that Radio Four deals with anything remotely scientific. Up until recently,
anything vaguely science-related was treated with mild disdain and sarcasm. But
that's changed, and it is reported no differently to anything else.
I wonder if I
wasn't the only person who'd complained?
As I had a
few minutes spare before work I took a little diversion to the petrol station.
That stuff is seemingly getting cheaper every time I fill up (not that I'm
in any way complaining).
Once at work
I put in my choices for Bank Holiday shifts. As I've said before I get a *lot*
of time off mid-week when everyone else is working. The flip side is that I
work when everyone else doesn't. Easter Monday is (for me) a goner, as
is (effectively) the spring Bank Holiday. But May Day and August seem to
be good for me. Two out of four Bank Holidays off this year? I'll take that,
I did what I
couldn’t avoid at work, then came home and walked the dogs round the block. We
would have gone further, but it was getting dark.
"er indoors TM" boiled up a
rather good bit of scoff as she does, then went out on the razzle. As the dogs
snored I watched the first two episodes of this season of SAS: Who Dares Wins. In this
season they are simulating alpine warfare up the Andes, and there are women
taking part along with the men. Those ladies are double-hard; I wouldn’t mess
with any of them.
I do like
this show. I particularly like anything with Ant Middleton in it.
And I’m going
to end today with a little request to all my loyal readers. Could I ask you all
to sign a petition? You can see what it is all about by
clicking here. In a nutshell, in order for me to be able to work I
have to pay the Health and Care Professions Council (HCPC) ninety quid
every year. This is a legal requirement, and if I don’ pay, I can’t work. Not
content with my ninety quid, they want to put the fee up by another eighteen
per cent. I’d rather they didn’t.
The HCPC is
an independent self-financing organisation which is funded purely from the fees
it collets from the likes of me, and all sorts of other medical professionals.
Interestingly they spend five thousand
quid a year for their works Christmas beano. Which is five thousand
quid more than my employer spent on the Christmas beano, and is the equivalent
of the annual contributions of over fifty registrants.
So please
sign that petition…
No comments:
Post a Comment