Or maybe not. See below:

Dear Applicant

We have experienced delays in receiving information about applicant scores from around the country. Together with the need for close quality control and audit this has meant we are unable to release the results of allocation of the scheme, planned for today.

The new date and time for release of this information is Wednesday 8th February 2006 at 5pm.

We apologise for any inconvenience this delay may cause.

According to speculation on some forums, this is code for 'we haven't managed to match people with jobs as everyone has ended up with similar scores' which was what everyone had been worried about. I suppose this could work in my favour, as London medics with intercalated degrees may not be ranked above me after all, which means I may get a job.

The next two years start today

Today is D-Day, as far as the next two years are concerned. It's Results Day for the Multi Deanery Application Process aka UCAS for medical students, which matches final year students to foundation training jobs. They said results would be out today, and its 10am in England, so why aren't they up yet?? These are the potential outcomes:

1) Job in South London.
2) Job in East London, which may necessitate some upheaval on our part.
3) No job, have to go through clearing and find out end of Feb.
4) No job even after clearing, which means either being a waster for a year in London, or abandoning Mr C for a life of crime abroad.

I'll let you know as soon as I do.

Photos of the match

For a scholarly, yet sprightly, analysis of the game, please see Mr C's blog. Here are some photos:

Mr C and Ustadh Muhammad al-Khudary enjoying the match

Egypt's rather excessive crowd control measures. Apparently I whacked one of the policemen on the head with my inflatable mallet, but thankfully there were no repercussions.

This just gives you an idea of the sheer red white and black-ness of the

huge crowd at the game. Bikey has better pictures and a faster download time so I will let
her treat u to her pics when she finally gets round to it. Also, maybe she can tell you more about the journey home! What a nightmare that was..City Stars, anyone?

PS - I did my best to get this to align properly but it wouldn't, and I have homework to do

Bikey here

I have hacked into Mrs C's account and am about to ruin her life mwahahaha!!!

Only joking. We're just putting up a picture of her from my computer and she's too lazy to do it herself. She's about to begin calligraphy lessons! But she's studying khatt al-riqa'i which I haven't done (yet). She's also very proud of her intellectual post but very disappointed that none of you hve commented on it yet. It's ok, I didn't read any of the links either. Oh apart from the AIDS one - isn't that AWFUL!! I just can't get my head round how anyone could possibly do such an evil thing. And I don't get why the west is getting all up on its high horse about the death penalty when it's quite happy to go bomb billions of people whenever it takes it's fancy, grrrr. Provided they actually Are quilty though. Ho hum, this picture is taking a long time to upload.

Ahh here it is, with Mrs C looking elegant as always, despite her less-than-princess-like surroundings. How Do you do it?


By the way, there Are bins in the vicinity. They be empty...

Wassalam

Current affairs for a change

Contrary to popular belief, I occasionally do other things with my spare time apart from reading recipe books and going on Ebay. Today, I am going to educate the masses (but very briefly, as I need to go to the gym in ten minutes). I've been looking at NHSblogdoctor which is all about the almighty mess which is the NHS in Britain. If that sounds too boring for words (although its actually quite entertaining), look at this first, an article from The Times about some prisoner who is getting a 'gender reassignment' operation done on the NHS for free - for the SECOND time. i.e., he/she was confused the first time he/she had it done, and wanted to be changed back. The NHS may be a free service to the nation, but when taxpayers' money is used for something so stupid and pointless, when there are people waiting for hip replacements or lifesaving treatment you have to question the worth of such a service.

As far as I can gather, healthcare in Egypt is also a two-tier system, where the poor go to the Government hospitals and the rich go to private hospitals. I have to say though, having been to Mustashfa al-Demerdash which is a teaching hospital in Cairo, if I was ill I'd definitely want to go private! The hospital is fairly grim, and even though NHS hospitals are not that fantastic you can at least expect clean sheets and reasonable standards of hygiene. I went to a clinic on Sunday, which was held in a small grimy room, which was divided further into five tiny cubicles with sliding doors. There was just enough room for a bed and standing space for the doctor. I have never seen a doctor wash their hands before touching a patient, much less use alcohol gel or any other antibacterial. On the wards, there are no curtains separating beds, so that if a patient is examined, the whole room can see what's going on. The doctors may be well trained, but the basic human need for privacy doesn't seem to be a priority. On the other hand, it's very cool to see nurses in niqab and full length white uniforms and female doctors in hijab who are assertive and in positions of respect.

Finally, still on a healthcare note, Ustadha Reham told me about something shocking, which I had never heard of before. Apparently five Bulgarian nurses working in Libya deliberately gave 400 children AIDS, on the instruction of a Palestinian doctor. They were found guilty and sentenced to death but now negotiations are taking place for compensation to be given to the families instead. But what can compensate for knowing that your child will die before your eyes and there's nothing you can do about it? That's assuming the allegations are true - this is Libya we're talking about, and the nurses claim they confessed under torture. You can read more here .

I made baklawa today, as an experiment. However, I don't think I'll be doing it in a hurry again, because of the following:

1) Pistachios are expensive, even in Egypt
2) Pistachios take forever to shell
3) Pistachios hurt your fingers
4) Pistachios take forever to chop finely by hand
5) Our oven is a bit temperamental
6) There is sugar syrup all over my worktop because of a leak in the foil tin

Not to mention that it is hideously fattening. Baklawa making can be summarised by saying 'brush melted butter on everything'. However, the end result wasn't too bad - and it's easier than I thought it would be. But then again, as Mr C uncompromisingly says 'It's good. Not professional though.'

Here's a picture:

Cairo life

Nobody's blogging! What's going on? Only Pink and Jughead have exams, what's everyone else doing?

Anyway, we're planning lots of mischief this week, well as mischievous as we get anyway. Today Bikey, her flatmates, our teachers and I all went to the Cairo International Book Fair, which is basically like a giant funfair, but with books instead of rides, if you can imagine that. People treat it as a Big Day Out for all the family, and spend all day strolling around, browsing the stalls and shops and eating. There's a great selection of books there, although in the English section, which we discovered at the last minute, everything is the same price as at home so there's no point doing much except flicking through there. Arabic books are another story - there's a huge selection on every subject you can think of: fantastic if you're an Arab, but still great if you're learning.

I picked up a few things, including calligraphy books (inspired by Bikey) and pocket dictionaries, but will be going back again with Mr C so didn't go overboard. The fact that we have plenty of books already at home is also a factor, as there's no point buying massive tomes which we're not going to read, especially if they're in a foreign language.

We are also getting tickets tomorrow for the Africa Cup of Nations Egypt Vs Ivory Coast game, which should be cool. It will be the first football game I've ever been to in my life (I can imagine Nasim -Mr C's cousin who holds a season ticket at Tottenham and goes to every game - shaking his head in disbelief at this point). We were warned not to go to the Egypt vs Morocco game on Tuesday as they apparently get very violent - Egypt and Morocco are bitter enemies. Mr C is escorting us all (all being myself, Bikey, her 2 flatmates Naveed and Sarwath and Ustadha Ayah, Bikey's teacher) as it's not a place to go without a man, apparently. Doubtless he will protect us all to his utmost capability.

Old friends

I woke up this morning, having had a weird dream in which I had a reunion with two friends from school that I haven't seen in about four or five years. Their names were Ranall Leckie and Naomi Clark. We used to do almost everything together, for about three years from Year 9 to 11, from walking between the bus station and school twice a day, to eating lunch together, to Duke of Edinburgh Award. Once we'd started A-levels though, Ranall was more into partying and Naomi became more of a loner - well that was my impression anyway. I got into another group of friends and stopped spending time with either of them, but sometimes I still wonder why I didn't make more of an effort to keep in touch. Both of them had such different personalities but somehow our friendship worked. Unfortunately, I have no way of contacting either of them now, so unless they read this webpage, I doubt I will ever see them again.

Reminiscing aside, things have become a bit more interesting in Cairo. I've started studying Arabic with Ustadha Reham, who really makes the lessons interesting. Even Arabic grammar, which Mr C and I studied a course on for a bit from Sunnipath before we got confused and bored stiff, becomes enjoyable with her. Also, she's not much older than me so we just have a chat during the lesson.

I've also begun my training at the hospital. For a foreigner, Ain Shams is a nightmare. The first day, I went to Ain Shams Specialized Hospital to look for my tutor, who was apparently in the Manager's Office there. I asked at least 8 people which way I was meant to go, and got sent all over the place, admittedly sometimes having misunderstood, until eventually I got to where I (thought I) was meant to be. The secretary rang the doctor, who said he was in the 'other' Ain Shams Hospital, al-Demerdash. So after all that, I had to repeat the whole palaver at the other place. Eventually I got my permission to study, met the doctor who will be training me, Dr Iman, and arranged to go to a ward round the next morning at 10am.

I arrived just after 10 the next day so I was a bit late, but then couldn't find the hospital. The hospital complex has loads of different buildings, with hospitals for foetuses, women, children, different diseases like bilharzia, faculties for medicine, dentistry and nursing....after half an hour I was in the building, but then I couldn't find the 'women's department for chest disease'. It turned out that it was at the end of a corridor through an unmarked door reached through the Neurology Department. And naturally, I was met by a very irritated Dr Iman who had been waiting nearly an hour for me.

And finally, a rant, if I may (as Dr Abbott would say). Why does everyone in Egypt keep saying I'm small and cute??? Ustadha Reham asked me if I was married after seeing my rings and then said "Atia, anti cute jiddan!" much to Mr C's amusement. Almost every taxi driver says I'm too "saghayyer" to be studying medicine and even the resident in ICU, who is engaged and meant it in an entirely platonic way, said I was 'so cute'. Maybe I should start cultivating a more worldweary expression or something.

Mopping and Shopping

Just for the record, the title of this blog is inspired by Noop Noop (I think it was her anyway), who wrote in her blog "Issues! That rhymes with tissues." Or something to that effect.

I was placed in level 5 at Diwan which made me very happy when I found out alhamdulillah. That means I don't have to repeat anything I already studied, even though actually I do need to revise quite a bit to be a Real Level 5er. And I also have a very good teacher I am told, which should whip my Arabic into shape soon. I thought I was going to start today so turned up with all my books, but it's my teacher's day off. So instead I wandered around Wonderland, a pretty poor excuse for a mall near Diwan, which took all of about ten minutes, and then went to Shoprite (a supermarket) to get some essentials.

I haven't done any mopping for at least 5 years, and very rarely before that, much to Bikey and Mr C's horror. Baking yes, occasional cooking yes, but mopping, no. There's something about the dirty scummy water which gets left in the bucket which makes my flesh creep. This also applies to any activity which requires contact with dirt, presenting me with some problems here in Egypt. I learned today that Madinat Nasr (the area we live in) is so dusty because it's built on the edge of the desert just outside of Cairo. Anyway, I'm waiting for the cleaning lady to come so she can use my lovely new Vileda mop and Cif etc to make the house sparkly and clean.

I spoke to the doc finally and will be going to see him tomorrow at the hospital - at last things are starting to happen!

Glastonbury Anyone?

I was checking through my junk mail when I saw an email from Sacred Archery, apparently an organisation which promotes the Islamic tradition of archery. Now you can do Glastonbury the halal way :)

Twiddling thumbs

Mr C has a tough schedule. His day begins bright and early after Fajr, with a three or sometimes four hour lesson in grammar. He has one of those teachers who can do Everything and manage - he's an ophthalmologist who is training for medical exams, studied Arabic to degree level and teaches every day, and also teaches students at a medical school here regularly. One of Mr C's friends studied with him - he sometimes did ten hours a day and made notes and audio lectures of ten books of grammar to take back to England with him..I doubt Mr C will reach such dizzying heights of scholasticism but he's definitely working hard (too hard to blog...).

I on the other hand, have so far had nothing to do. My doctor will be back today from his travels so hopefully I can sort out a plan of action on the medicine front, and I will find out what my level of Arabic is today, so I can start lessons. I apparently have a really good teacher, and because of my schedule they've had to make Naveed take her lesson at 8am so they can fit me in (Sorry Naveed).

I worked out that I need to study 200 hours at least while I'm here, on top of being in the hospital four days a week, studying Arabic 5 days and homework, in order to learn enough to do my medical exams. Then when I get back, I should have about the same to do again. This is assuming I work and don't daydream, and that I retain everything I learn, which so far hasn't happened. If I remembered all the stuff I have learned over the years I'd be a medical genius, like my friend Bandit, of the Photographic Memory.

Don't step on the cracks

or you'll break your grandmother's back. This, according to Mr C is a rhyme kids say when they're avoiding cracks in the pavement, but in my case, its all about avoiding the cracks between the tiles in our kitchen. The kitchen has been designed with such gross idiocy that it is just breathtaking. Firstly, the kitchen surface is tiled with the same tiles as the floor, with dirty grouting in between them. Why they couldn't put down something smooth and easy to clean is beyond me..tiling is obviously going to get filthy. If anything falls off my chopping board, it has to go straight in the bin. Secondly, they put a cupboard directly above the sink, at head height. So if you want to wash up, you have to bend backwards, or duck your head under the cupboard, which you can imagine is fairly uncomfortable. Grrr.

That said, I did do some cooking. I made stuffed peppers and imam bayildi, which means 'the imam fainted' - it's a famous Turkish dish made with aubergines. Legend has it that an imam fainted when he tasted the dish, because it was so delicious. Mr C did a mock faint when he had some, but then he's not an imam so I wouldn't expect him to be affected in the same way. I also tried out making kheer (rice pudding) but used lemon zest instead of rose water which turned out all right.

For Eid, we went to Imam Suhaib's house after prayers for breakfast. There's a nice community here, even though you don't generally see people as often as we have in the past couple of days - everyone's busy with studies and their families usually. I wasn't well so the rest of the day wasn't too exciting - we just stayed at home.

Yesterday, we went out to City Stars Mall to eat at Chili's. It should have been good except that on our way there, we stopped about five taxis and they all refused to take us! Puzzled, we rang Bikey who said that was normal, but she didn't know why, maybe because it wasn't far enough to be worth it for them. We got there eventually - there was lots of traffic - and ate our meal, but then had to try and get home. Again, no taxis wanted to go there. After asking 8 or 9, one agreed, but then said we had to pay 30 Egyptian pounds (Bikey said normal fare is 3 or 4!) so we got out. After finding a taxi driver who agreed to 10, we got home, but when we gave him the money he told us we said we were going to pay 20 and threw a hissy fit, which was scary because we were still in his car. Mr C, bless him, put his utmost feeling into his broken Arabic ('Qulna Ashrah! Ashrah!) whilst waving 15 pounds at him - our compromise for a quiet life. We got out and left the 15 pounds, and he drove off still cursing us.

Brown water

Have caught a dreadful cold somehow, and have had a temperature on and off and am feeling under the weather. The plumber, as mentioned before, made a mess and left gunk on the bathroom floor and loads of water, which I am putting off cleaning up by writing a blog entry. To cap it all off, I was doing wudu (ablution) in the other bathroom and had just rinsed out my mouth when I noticed that the water was brown. Not just slightly tinged brown, but real mud brown. I was horrified as you might imagine but couldn't do much other than wait for the water to run clear (which it did eventually) as the other bathroom was wet and I had to do wudu. The water had tasted ok, but I don't even want to think about why it was brown. In the end I had to buy an icecream to try to blunt the memory of the trauma I had suffered.

It looks like we won't have heating until Tuesday at least - both of the shops that the Bawwab went to were closed. Some people came to look at our air conditioning system and played around with the remote control; after declaring that the heating wasn't working, they left us to it, but not without demanding 10LE baksheesh for their 'services' rendered! Our bawwab then proceeded to have a loud argument with them over why we should pay them, and eventually, defeated, asked us for 5 Lira. They found this an insult and refused to take it, which was fine by us.

There was an iftar at Diwan today (the Arabic school I'm studying at) which was nice. There are a lot more families than I had expected, and it seems that coming to a foreign country with a young children isn't as mad an idea as I had thought. Imam Suhaib Webb gave a good motivating reminder about how we should avoid wasting time as we're here to study, and can socialise, go online (!) and watch tv as much as we like back in our home countries rather than wasting the opportunity we have now.

I'd better go and mop that floor.

We've been in Egypt for two days now, and are becoming a bit more acclimatised to everything, in particular the language and our flat. Bikey deserves much commendation for arduously hunting out a flat, staying up until 3am (in the freezing cold - more about that in a sec) and even cooking up a delicious meal ready for us. Some of the inital problems with the flat are being ironed out slowly but surely - this morning we had our Bawwab's (security guard and general all-round gofer) wife and another woman in to clean, mop and scrub the house clean, we ordered some electric heaters and have also had the plumber in to try and solve a) the mysterious flooding of the bathroom floor via the sink base b) why the tap in the kitchen only flows at a leisurely trickle c) the lack of hot water in the kitchen and the other bathroom.

Mr C has given me a housekeeping budget, which was initally 1000LE i.e. £100 for a month, but after hearing that Bikey and flatmates only spend £15 between them in a week on food and other expenses, he's decided it should be enough for two months instead. He is determined to embrace poor student life, eschewing Western branded products like Persil and Fairy for the Egyptian equivalents and urging me to write my blog offline to save on internet bills.

I have been rather concerned about what I'm going to feed the poor man for the next two months, much to Mr C's amusement. For the first few days I've asked to be let off cooking while I accustom myself, but I don't think I'll be able to put it off any longer. That said, I've been trying to be less of a 'Princess' (as Mr C would say) and to get on with the task of cleaning out cupboards and dubious looking brown specks in the kettle.

We went to Diwan to find out about our Arabic lessons, but we won't be starting until next weekend, as Diwan has an Eid holiday this week. We have both been trying to cram some revision in before our tests, so we don't have to start from scratch again. Bikey showed us some of her calligraphy which was very impressive - now she has DSL she might be able to scan some in for you all to feast your envious gazes upon - and I'm keen to do some as well, though I'm pretty much cack-handed when it comes to things like that. Or even to handwriting in general.

As far as my elective goes, I still haven't managed to track down my tutor, which would be a good starting point. I think I'll try and drop in at his office this afternoon and sort something out. Bikey's teacher says that in Egypt anything goes - i.e. I can go in as little or as much as I like - which means I should be able to do all the things I plan to do, namely:
1.Learn a decent amount of Arabic
2.Be able to communicate with locals in 3ammiya (Egyptian dialect)
3.Go to Dahab and try snorkelling and scuba diving (if the water's not too cold)
4.Go to Luxor and Aswan with Mr C & family
5.Start revising for finals!

I'm currently sitting in our hotel lobby in Istanbul writing this blog entry. It's a surprisingly plush hotel for a mere 3 star..the taxi had stopped a few yards away from the hotel in front of a dingy pink building with an ageing placard attached to the wall which worried us for a bit but then it was all right after all. We decided not to bother with eating out the first night and had an overpriced 'special' at the restaurant..only compensated by the spectacular view of the blue mosque at night from the roof terrace.

Yesterday we did the sights - Topkapi palace, Aya Sofya and the Blue Mosque (which has underfloor heating - we so need it in England!) all of which were beautiful, especially the mosque. Apparently Sultan Ahmet I intended that it would rival Aya Sofya which is just across the road, and he definitely succeeded. Mr C had his camcorder out most of the day, and for those of you who will end up seeing the video, be warned: most of the time you'll hear me in the background saying 'turn it off! turn it off!'. Then of course, on to the Grand Bazaar. Designer Dentist blogged that you can't get decent leather handbags there - I beg to differ! I love my Balenciaga fake..the first place I went to said 160 Liras, the next 220 which I bargained down to 150 but was still too much, and eventually I got it for 65 thanks to Mr C's wily bargaining skills ('We're poor students from Bangladesh!'..right). Mr C got almost forced into buying a turkish tea set which we just paused for a second to look at..the next thing we knew the man was saying in a huff 'If you won't take it for 45, I'll just GIVE it to you!' and packaged the whole thing up and thrust it into Mr C's unwilling hands. We didn't even have 45 Liras, and ended up paying £20 and leaving, shaking our heads in disbelief.

I decided the easiest way to explain what we did was to post some photos from our Bangladesh trip. See Mr C's blog for a synopsis of what we did there.

As you all know, Mr C's folly at the airport meant I had to travel to Bangladesh entirely alone. This went better than expected, apart from a couple of small mishaps such as leaving my boarding pass at the Boots counter in Gatwick. The next day Mr C reappeared, alive and well. We stayed the night at his uncle's house and then went to my Dadu's:

Mr C in the room that was decorated for us at Dadu's (my paternal grandmother's) place. Asima and other relatives spent many hours putting up the flower chains and roses, only for us to take it all down - Mr C was Allergic. We took a picture beforehand for posterity.

The next day we went to my Nanu's, or maternal grandmother's house:




I'm going to get in trouble for posting this one, but I will anyway. Mr C in a pagree (which was too small for him) and gold foil necklace he was given to wear by my cousins. They are 'holding the gate', a tradition in which the groom is not allowed to pass until he has paid off the bride's relatives. The only thing is, Mr C already got married to me a year ago, and he's already paid my relatives twice over in England!

Mr C with my Mimi Khala's children..Jarif, Arif and Maliha. They are all characters, although I don't think I got to see Jarif (the eldest) on form this time. Maliha is absolutely gorgeous.

A photo with my great grandmother. No-one knows exactly how old she is, but a reliable estimate seems to be 94 or 95. She's a little bit deaf, but otherwise in astonishingly good health for someone of her age, and has a great sense of humour.

A few days later, we headed off to Sylhet, first stop Moulvibazaar where Mr C's father lives. He held a party for us, and invited over 1000 people to it.

The poor chickens waiting their turn for slaughter. My father-in-law ordered 450 chickens, 6 goats and 2 cows for the function and slaughtered the cows himself (all captured on video for those who are interested).

The Sylhet function. I decided not to even expect segregation, quite rightly as it turned out - when I arrived, there was a line of waiters waiting to welcome me, as well as male relatives and family friends wandering up to the women's section.

We spent some time in Hingagia as well, where Mrs C Senior grew up. It's a place that Mr C and sisters remember fondly from their childhood.

Making sunga, a traditional Sylheti speciality: Fresh bamboo sticks are filled with a mixture of rice and water and sealed at each end. They are then roasted on an open fire outside, and then the bamboo is peeled away (in a similar way to sugar cane) to leave a tube of cooked and scented rice inside.

Me stripping the bamboo bark to get the sunga (or chunga in Dhaka dialect) for our evening meal.

The lake at Hingagia, one of several on the land. At this time of year (the dry season in Bangladesh) the water is quite murky but it becomes clear and fresh in the rainy season. There's also an outdoor swimming pool complete with changing rooms, where Mr C used to frolic as a child.

A tour with Nana, Mr C's grandfather, through his 'estate' in Hingagia. He planted many of the fruit trees himself (or rather, got the villagers to do so under his watchful eye). Sadly, his son moved away to Sylhet town so his children could get a better education, and no-one lives in Hingagia any more on a day-to-day basis.

The interior of a traditional mud hut where the caretakers of the Hingagia grounds now lives. The flat was very simple, just two rooms, one serving as a kitchen and the other a bedroom, but was scrupulously clean and tidy throughout.

The home of a tea garden manager. We visited two tea gardens, and both of the houses were beautiful, reminiscent of the Raj and colonial glory. You could imagine you were in a different era sitting on the porch and looking out onto the wellkept gardens.

Leaving Hingagia - with Mr C's uncles, aunts and cousins.

Am back from my whirlwind Bangladesh trip. Sorry I didn't blog, but I went online exactly 3 times in 2 weeks, for 5 minutes each time. Lots to tell but have unpacking, washing and repacking to get on with, so will update you all ASAP, hopefully with photos! You won't have to wait long - maybe tonight.

Thank you to everyone who felt sorry enough for me to respond to Mr C's plea to comment :)