IT HURTS

Two friends with whom our families have grown up are selling up and leaving the area. In one case it is primarily for work, though it will be easier for the children to meet up with their parents. The other friends want to be nearer better transport links to their children and to family.  In both cases the children do not want to travel to a remote place for a weekend, mostly taken up with hours on trains or buses - it's not easy to get here - and when they are home longer, none of their friends are here; the ones they went to nursery with; then primary school and high school.  They've all moved on. I recognise this too, as I hear the same thing from sprog.  It hurts.  

This has been a lovely region of the country in which to bring up children, to give them freedom to play out, to have stop-overs, to go for walks with their friends, join in group activities,  and to learn all sorts of extra-curricular skills from the talented people who have lived here.  The children - now adults - are educationally and socially well-equipped and have moved on and out into the world.   I accept that is how it should be. We as parents have provided as best we can for our children's futures, together with the teachers and a supportive community.

All that said, it grieves me to see friends disappear who have provided special links with a very important chunk of my life and my family life. It feels like I am losing close relatives.

FIRST AID

During this fortnight, I have had two day - case operations, the second being an emergency one, to deal with the failure of the first one.  To top it all, I got a running cold and a cough. 

The first surgical procedure was planned for one day early in April, and off we went for the 120 miles drive to the hospital.  Just in case there were any after-effects, we booked into bed and breakfast not too far away from the hospital. It felt safer to do this, as we do not have the clinical expertise for my case, near home.   Everything seemed fine, and the stopover became more of a mini-break.

I was due to have stitches removed at the local G.P surgery on the Monday. However,  the fates took over at the weekend,  (why couldn't it have been a weekday) which, about four o' clock  on a Saturday afternoon saw us racing twenty miles to the county hospital Emergency Department.  There, I saw a friendly nurse.

Having done her bit of triage she went in search of a doctor, who was a sweet young lady, likely to have been in her first post-qualifying year.   After carefully telling her the whole story again, she went off to make a phone call to the regional hospital out of hours specialist to get advice on what to do.    

The advice given;  I was to cancel the appointment with my GP, the stitches remaining in situ must not be moved.  I was to wait two weeks till my own surgeon came to consult at the out-patient clinic at the county hospital. Yes - I was told, he definitely will have a clinic and the nurses will arrange for an appointment to be sent to you. I was to take some prescribed medication for the two weeks.  Oops... there wasn't any in the department and the hospital pharmacy was closed.  Neither the hospital nor the community had an out of hours rota.  Brilliant!

The nurses eventually found medication in surgical packaging in the minor surgery room. Everyone was trying so hard for me, yet it all felt like a Hobson's choice, which, was confirmed, when the young doctor asked me what dose would I normally be prescribed for the prescription.

Starting out very early on Monday morning, we travelled 120 miles down the road, and arrived to find a very crowded specialist morning clinic at the regional hospital. My luck was in, my surgeon was there.  Have you an appointment ? asked the receptionist.  "No - I said -no time for that, look".  Oh! and she dashed off and quickly returned, saying - he will see you. 

To cut a long story short, I was triaged by the clinic nurses, who, when I thanked them for their concern, replied,  'it was an honour'.  Without any hesitation, the surgeon asked me to stay overnight near the hospital so I could be fitted into his morning surgery list the next day,  "to get 'it' sorted out and fixed".  His secretary arranged some accommodation for us, and we rushed around town to buy a toothbrush each, toothpaste, toiletries and some nightwear.

By the way,  the surgeon told me he did not take outreach clinics at our county hospital, other doctors did that.  

As I was departing from the operating theatre, the doctor asked.... Would you mind returning to clinic have the stitches removed......... ( would I mind!) I'd be delighted, I said.


 

WHAT VOLCANIC ASH DOES

The volcanic ash from Grimsvoten, Iceland, that descended on us, is sticking like a limpet to any surface it has landed on. This morning, I spent time rinsing the car, it was absolutely no use. That stuff does not come off with water alone. No wonder rain was not much assistance. The car windows and the windscreen were in need of special attention.

The volanic ash is abrasive: I have no desire to etch the car windows with doodles from attempted cleaning. 

The car roof was equally as resistant to the clearing of volcanic ash: I lifted a layer of ash with a soft tissue napkin. Where it lifted, another skimming of ash has descended. Everywhere else, the dust has increased in density.

The car windscreen responded to a soft tissue napkin quite well, till the next ash coating formed. If this is what I am finding, likewise my neighbours, I can only think that an aircraft would be subject to a greater deluge of the stuff. There had better be an international inspection of remote flying controls. On board visibility could become severely restricted. 

O'Leary, (of Ryan Air) ex-sidekick, Walsh, has had an aircraft flying on behalf of British Airways and Iberia. We do not know what type of aircraft, or any other essential data about the flight. After giving out a load of science-speak, which he knows the majority of journalists and media groups would not be able to question knowledgeably, nor would a large proportion of the general public, we are left with less understanding than before. We do know that there are gaps in Walsh's report as it stands and that there are vested financial interests to keep going at any cost. What we do not know, because we are not scientific specialists, is what all those gaps in the report are. It should not be forgotten that the UK sits in a small space by comparison to other continents, and there are fewer ways to get round any ash clouds.

As this is the second eruption in a year to affect Northern Europe, one useful aspect of all the posturing, is that research into the affects of volcanic ash is now being given a higher profile. 

Air space in Northern Germany has been affected today, planes in the area affected are grounded. No-one is doing this for perverse fun. Thank heavens, I say, for a far-reaching aviation safety inspectorate. 

If it's good enough for the American President to re-arrange his travel itinerary around the volcanic ash cloud, it is certainly appropriate for everyone else to have to do the same.

I trust to my eyes and in addition my throat. I can see and feel what the ash is doing. In simple every day language, the volcanic ash sticks and is very difficult to remove without abrading the surfaces it sticks to. That says quite a bit in my book.

The silver lining in the ash cloud is that it should provide a boost to agricultural and small growers by improving their soil no end.