cringe...

just a note to register my total and utter mortification at being advised I was using stethoscope wrong way round by the GP...no wonder I didn't hear the heart murmur. A final year medic not knowing which way to use it! The shame.

(In my defence it wasn't my stethoscope, so I wasn't used to it. But the sooner I get a proper one instead of using my tinpot Bangladeshi one the better.)

Last Weekend Part 1

Had a pretty good weekend, which started on Thursday (yay!). This weekend is starting on Wednesday evening, and so's the one after this. And then I have a three month holiday! Life is good :)

I left my phone in London, so was completely cut off in Crewe from everyone. I had asked Jughead if she wanted to accompany me to a conference on Chechnya on Friday in London, and she had agreed but I unfortunately had no means of contacting her as she doesnt have a phone either. It worked out in the end, Jug displaying good sense in calling Mr C and informing him of her plans.

We got off to a shaky start on Friday morning, by missing our tube stop and having to backtrack, which made us late. However, this was a good thing in the end as the first person we saw when we got there was Dr Khassan Baiev himself! I couldn't quite convince myself it was him so I looked up his photo in my book. Jug was trying to persuade me to talk to him but was feeling very starstruck and overwhelmed so couldn't pluck up the courage at the time. I went and spoke to him a bit later, and got my book signed. As soon as I can figure out how, I'll post a picture. In fact I think it's high time I posted some pics anyway.

Mid-conference, Jug and I decided to have a wander round London, in order to justify having paid a ridiculous amount for our peak time travelcards. We found a nice malaysian place on edgware road where we had lunch, then had hot chocolates, following which we went to Pout and passed a pleasant half hour. On my recommendation, Jug slapped on a lot of Pout Plump, a very minty lipgloss. We then went out into the cold..then the menthol really hit us..it was agony, like holding an ice cube to your mouth. My theory is that if your lips are really really cold then the rest of you will feel warmer.

On the tube back to SOAS (where the conference was), I hadn't got round to holding on to the pole thing and ended up nearly falling and putting my foot down - very HARD - on a lady's foot. I don't think it helped that they were heels either. After yelping with considerable force, she managed to swallow her anger and pain and even responded quite pleasantly to my profuse apologies. It was a most humiliating incident, especially as everyone was joking about it and Jug kept throwing me reproachful looks and shaking her head.

Coughing Fits

During the weekend I had a sore throat, one of those annoying ones which just appear out of the blue, no accompanying cold or temperature, just a sore throat. I also became quite hoarse, which was embarrassing as I went to lunch with some new sisters and was unable to do more than croak at them. Last night was unpleasant, but not bad enough for me to justify skiving my medical duties, so I came to Crewe and attended a lecture..at the conclusion I was having a chat with a colleague when I was overcome by a severe coughing fit. As wrapped up as I was in the immediate problem of how to get rid of it, I was also aware of how awkward a situation it is for everyone around you - you're coughing and spluttering, tears streaming, and clearly you are unable to continue the conversation, or do anything much really. I gradually recovered, although for some reason it takes a while before your voice recovers fully - mine was quavery for a good ten minutes, and I didn't feel normal for at least half an hour.

Thinking that was it for the day, I made a few phone calls when I got home. In the middle of a discussion with the University's Student Services Centre, I again began to cough violently and uncontrollably. After attempting a strangled 'Sorry!' I was forced to hang up and continue my paroxysms in solitude. After a Google search, I am none the wiser about how to deal with this problem, so far I have been drinking lots of water and having Halls Soothers..I have been informed that coughing fits are typical of whooping cough, but as this isn't the first time I've had them, I assume not.

By the way, on Friday 25th November, there is going to be a conference at SOAS on Chechnya, with the very same Dr Khassan Baiev I blogged about speaking and doing a book signing! I'm definitely going to get mine signed..does anyone know any choice Chechnyan phrases I can employ? On a serious note, it is a major ongoing conflict in which horrific human rights abuses have been carried out, and sounds very interesting. Apparently concessions are only a fiver (£15 for everyone else) so students should have no excuse. I've reserved two tickets so I'm counting on someone to take up the other one and come with me..

Tube Trouble

I jumped on the Victoria line tube at Euston yesterday, having just arrived in London from Manchester. Next to me was a youngish guy of Pakistani origin (to be politically correct). The following conversation ensued:

Pak: Is this the tube for Oxford Circus?
Me: Yes
Pak: [something unintelligible in Urdu]
Me: I can't hear you
Pak: [something unintelligible in Urdu]
Me: I don't understand
Pak: Don't you speak Urdu?
Me: No
Pak: What do you speak then?
Me: Bengali
Pak: Oh right, you must live in East London then
Me: No
Pak: Don't you like East London? I thought all Bengalis lived there?
Me: (rolls eyes)
Pak: What's your name?
Me: I don't think you need to know that.
Pak: I'm not flirting with you [laughs lightly]
Me: Good, because I'm married (lifts left hand to show ring)
Pak: What's the point of letting me flirt with you all this time then? Anyway, for friendship it doesn't matter if you're married or unmarried..

Thankfully, his tube stop then arrived. I think next time I should pretend I don't speak any English, or maybe poking them in the eye would be the more expedient way of getting rid of these people.

The Witching Hour

Am currently on the paediatric ward at the Royal Oldham Hospital. Don't worry, this isn't dedication, it's avarice - I am well paid for my sleepless nights of blogging. The only problem is that I forgot my Vaseline tin. I wasn't too worried about this, thinking that I could always rely on my Pout lipgloss, but discovered that I'd left that at home too. In desperation, I have been using a tube of 'yellow soft paraffin' - as disgusting as this sounds, it happens to be a common ingredient in lip balm. However I have just read this, which puts me off a bit: Paraffin: This common ingredient comes in the form of a wax or a liquid, derived from the petroleum refining process. Paraffin wax is a grey sludge which needs to be bleached & processed before it is deemed suitable to work with. It forms the base of many creams. It is used to work as a lubricant & emulsifier.

Have nothing particular to say at this moment, except that I am currently reading a corking book by Khassan Baiev, called The Oath. It's an autobiographical novel by a Chechen surgeon who stayed during the war to treat the sick, in accordance with the Hippocratic oath as he understood it. Very interesting, especially for people like myself who were somehow oblivious to what happened there.

Eidun Saeed

Mr C eschews Sami Yusuf and favours Zain Bhikha when it comes to Eid songs, heaven knows why (Fudge you have my permission to correct my vocabulary if I have committed another error). This was my first Eid in London with Mr C and family. Eid prayers were said in a community centre nearby, which was packed to the rafters - I had no idea there were so many Muslims in this area. We also had a Secret Ali, which is like an Eid version of Secret Santa, which was pretty good fun, unless your present-giver forgets to get you anything and you're the only one with nothing.

We decided that Saturday was to be our 'At Home', in the tradition of Miss Mapp and Lucia. I decided it was my Duty to cook for Mr C's guests (alas I have very few friends in London, and those I have never come to visit) and settled on a menu of chicken korma, koftas (cooked by Mr C's sis), pilau, prawn curry and desserts including profiteroles, chocolate pots (like mousse), banana bread, chocolate cup cakes and Meringues with cream. Sadly, the chocolate pots were too chocolatey, having been made with very dark chocolate, and the profiteroles were woefully flat and couldnt be served. I also put too much yoghurt in the korma but it was saved by Mr C's Aunt. Everything else went down reasonably well, although my mother-in-law made the rice herself in the end, taking pity on her poor worn-out daughter-in-law.

We went to a firework display yesterday, Mr C and I which was great...there was also a thrilling funfair, one of the ones where you are terrified, not because the ride itself is so fast or exciting, but because you are aware that there is a Very Real risk that you may fall out, or the ride will break down or fall apart just when you are a hundred feet up and upside down. Topping.

Finished The Da Vinci Code today, as good as the hype even though I was a major sceptic at first..the end was a bit of a letdown though, anyone else agree?