I slept well, but my
back was certainly on the iffy side when I got up this morning. I let the
puppies out, but when they did their usual charge up the stairs, Morgan slipped
and fell. He seemed OK, but I shall have to keep an eye on him.
I
made toast and watched a couple of episodes of “Star Trek: Prodigy” then
had a little look at the Internet. After a rather fraught weekend with the
lap-top taking an age to get going, the device was working far better this
morning. Perhaps it realises I’m getting just a tad fed up with it.
Facebook
was a tad annoying this morning… is “annoying” the right word? Yet again
I’m questioning my career choice and wondering if hospital work is a mug’s
game. As the current strikes are showing, the wages are piss-poor compared to
all sorts of other jobs. The hours suck. This morning so many people were
gloating that they had already packed up for Christmas, and even signed off of
social media for the holidays… holidays which don’t start in my world for
another three and a bit days.
I
dosed myself up with ibuprofen in the hope it would sort out my back, and
walked down the road Munzing like a thing possessed at virtual lifebelts and
virtual volt-meters (never a dull moment in the world of Munzee), As I
drove up the motorway the pundits on the radio were banging on about how the
Scottish Parliament is proposing changes to the law which will remove the
need for a medical diagnosis of gender dysphoria in order to receive a gender recognition
certificate. And would lower the minimum age for applicants for such a
certificate to sixteen, and would and reduce the time required for an applicant
to live in their acquired gender from two years to three months (or six for
people aged under eighteen). So much air-time was devoted to the younger
trans community with regard to this.
Don’t
get me wrong. I don’t doubt for one minute that there are genuine trans people
who really are in the wrong bodies. But how many children are jumping on the
bandwagon here? When my father was a teenager you could dress up as mods and
rockers to show off. When I was a lad we shocked our parents by being punk
rockers. “Daddy’s Little Angel TM” used to enjoy being a chav
and putting on a show to wind me up. My favourite oldest granddaughter recently
told me there are twenty children in her class claiming to be trans because it
causes problems for the teachers.
As
I said, don’t get me wrong. I don’t doubt for one minute that there are genuine
trans people who really are in the wrong bodies. But twenty in just one school
class..? Seriously?
I
got to work and hobbled about as best I could with a still-iffy back.
Fortunately I was doing a lot of training today so sitting about was good.
Something
else which was good was the works Christmas buffet. The idea was that everyone
brought in something or other, and everyone shares it all out. I brought in far
too many of the weird and wonderful crisps that the sell in the Polish shop
over the road. The mushroom flavoured crisps were rather popular.
With work worked I came
home. “er indoors TM” boiled up a very good bit of dinner
which we scoffed, then I fell asleep whilst watching whatever was on telly. I hate that…
No comments:
Post a Comment