musings

new blog

2006-05-23T17:19:00.000+03:00

my new blog can be found here and I promise faithfully that I will try and keep it updated, until I lose interest in the whole thing again...

Old skool reunion

2006-03-24T14:03:00.000+02:00

Yesterday was the FOSIS/IIDR (or is it Awakening) scholars' bash on our very own Manchester campus. Unfortunately, I missed the actual substance of the event, as I was at a friend's house, and then went to provide moral support for Pink at the Student Union election count. It brought back memories of the fraught silences and sickening waiting for results of previous years, especially Fudge's bid for Student Direct Editor. I still don't know the results, but things were looking quite good when I left at 10pm.

Anyway, I got to the building where the talks were being held and met with lots of old friends who I hadn't seen for many a month, most of them not since the July wedding. After the talk finished, I went to give my salaam to Imam Suhaib, but unfortunately the huge number of brothers that were standing around waiting to have their heads patted made it rather difficult to get a word in, especially as I stand about one and a half feet shorter than him. However, with the help of Madd, I got his attention eventually and had the honour of being remembered by him. After all, these scholars meet millions of people who all claim acquaintance in some way e.g. Do you remember a dinner you came to in Manchester three years ago? Well I was sat opposite you three seats down!

It was a night full of nostalgia, as almost everyone I have ever worked with, or tried to avoid working with, in the past four years was there. Ah the memories.

PS a major well done to Pink and everyone who worked so hard on election. I would have firmly excluded Jughead, except that she was persuaded to do a few hours' grafting (aka flyering at North Campus with the wonderful Anjeza) at the Eleventh Hour.

henceforth..

2006-03-16T21:22:00.000+02:00

..my blog will be defunct until my life becomes remotely interesting again.

bloods

2006-03-09T19:50:00.000+02:00

yay I did five bloods in a row today! This may seem like a trivial accomplishment, but I had a shameful period of bloodtaking failure which was very embarrassing and led me to believe I should give up medicine and be a strawberry picker in Devon instead. Time after time I stuck needles in patients, with ne'er a drop of blood to be seen.

Muslim medics

2006-03-07T19:18:00.000+02:00

I was going to blog about something entirely different, but here goes. I went into the medics' common room about an hour ago, and there were two people sitting there having a passionate debate. It turned out that one of them was the author of this article (I know how you like to ignore these links of mine, but this is definitely worth reading, especially if you're at Manchester Uni, and even more if you're a medic) and the other was a brother on the Islamic Society committee . It's about the 'hijab squad' and 'beard brigade' who refuse to integrate with anybody - and the fault appears to lie with the Isoc.

She made some interesting points, as it IS true that Muslims don't integrate that much, but the difference is that it's more obvious when they don't because of hijabs, beards or simply because most of us are Brown. However, to put it in the national student medic press is a bit Much. She might get people talking about it, but I don't see how it's going to force people to make friends with each other. Most medic friendships are forged in the pub or at MSRC events etc; most Muslims have good relationships with individual non-Muslims but socially, there is a huge gulf which prevents total integration. Yet nobody suggests the MSRC organise a 'Muslim-friendly' event, such as a picnic or quiz or alcohol-free dinner.

What is more galling about the whole thing is that shortly after I went downstairs to the computer room I heard some 4th years saying 'There's a massive argument going on upstairs..its Anisa and guess who? one of the muzzies!' Like that's good for dawah. I wanted to go up and tell the brother to back off a bit or discuss it somewhere else, but there wasn't much that could be done at that stage.

Leaving today

2006-03-03T12:41:00.000+02:00

Have just slept off the effects of a seven hour minibus journey and am back in Cairo, surrounded by suitcases and clothes ready to be packed away. I think having an extra-good time in Dahab is going to make it even more depressing leaving this evening.

The Cow and I finished our PADI Scuba Diver course (about 2/3rds of the whole Open Water course) and Bikey even succumbed and did an introductory dive. The night before last we went on a 'camel safari with Bedouin dinner'. The camel safari was about half an hour in total (not that I minded, I was exhausted from being in the water for four hours) and the Bedouins - Mu'annath and his cousin Ramadan - spoke excellent English, quoted Bob Marley ('No woman No cry'), and owned PDAs. However, they gave us an excellent insight into Bedouin culture and how it's changed over the past few decades. Apparently they usually just keep quiet and lead the camels on these safaris, while the Egyptian guides claim 'They don't speak any English, they're just simple Bedouins'. Tourists miss out on a lot because they allow themselves to be lead by the nose by guides sometimes.

After lighting a fire and cooking a chicken for dinner, we settled down for a bedouin folk tale. Unfortunately, Mu'annath's story was very difficult to follow, and Bikey, the Cow and I were in fits of silent laughter, due to his naming his main character 'Nuss in Size', i.e. half (nuss in Arabic) sized boy. I guess you had to be there. It was supposed to be a scary story, so he was bewildered by our reaction. After this, we had some bedouin games, such as getting Mr C and Ramadan to rise from a lying position to standing with a full glass of water on their foreheads, and blindfolding two people and getting them to feed each other spoonfuls of rice.

Later on, we went to visit the Bedouins' home, and met their womenfolk. We were given a concotion of powdered pomegranate pith in hot milk (supposed to be good for your digestion) and had a quick chat. Sometimes the women drive up the mountains and have a party by themselves, singing, dancing and feasting in complete freedom. A couple of them spoke very good English which surprised us. we found out that the Bedouin girls we always saw selling things only went down to the tourist areas between the ages of about 6 and 12 or 13; after that they stayed in the village and had nothing much to do with tourists at all. Many of the bedouins dislike the influence of tourists on their lifestyle, and also the presence of Egyptians, who come to Dahab to take advantage of the industry.

Yesterday Mr C and I went snorkelling around the Blue Hole, a world famous diving site with amazing reefs all around the edge. It's the ultimate challenge for divers who attempt to dive to the bottom of the Hole and then come out from a tunnel through the other side. Needless to say, it's pretty dangerous, and it's got a reputation for causing several deaths each year. We were just content to look at the reefs and the fish, but the water was cold and choppy so we only spent about 40 mins in the sea in total. We also went quadbiking, which was good fun, especially as we went at night, but the accelerator was stiff and my thumb is still sore!

OK i'm off to pack now. I'm sad.

As black as boot polish

2006-02-28T22:27:00.000+02:00

It's a good thing I'm married, because I would never catch a Bengali husband at the rate my skin's tanning! The combination of beautiful hot sunny weather and the reflective properties of the water mean that my hands are four shades darker - I've had a ring on one hand since the beginning of the holiday and the skin is a totally different colour. It's quite cool.

All the people in the internet cafes seem to be having dodgy chats with foreign women on MSN - it's amazing what people will do in public! People have no shame. I went to a place in Cairo to get my medical elective papers signed and the man had the most disgusting sites in his history and had no qualms about me seeing them.

Anyway, Dahab has been good fun, though I do feel guilty reading poor Bikey's blog - hopefully we'll be spending a lot more time with her after we finish our scuba diving course tomorrow. For some reason, even though I will hardly ever get the opportunity to dive after this, and certainly would never be brave enough to do it without a guide, I have become obsessed with getting my PADI Open Water Diver qualification. Reason tells me it is pointless, but I still keep thinking of ways in which I can create the time to do the necessary lessons...I don't think it's going to happen though. Yesterday we had a not-so-good instructor, resulting in a miserable day. Firstly she got us in our wetsuits about an hour and a half before we got into the water, so we were both sweltering. We absolutely couldn't lift our weights or tanks, and our equipment kept going wrong, and then to put the icing on the cake I ended up bashing the poor Cow with my air tank and giving her a nasty nose bleed. We decided it would be fun to give Bikey and Mr C a scare, and were contemplating whether to take her blood stained towel back and just say that she had met with an accident, but then we decided it would be kinder just to ring and tell them. She's ok now, and I'm sure she will give her own version of events in due course.

Today was a million times better, a much nicer and more enthusiastic (and English not American like the previous one - call me a xenophobe!) who was also very thorough. We avoided all the mistakes of the previous day and both ended up having a great time in the water. This is in spite of my ears - the first time I went diving they wouldn't pop and the pressure was building up to the point that it was causing me severe pain..we haven't done any 'Open Water' dives yet, i.e. in deep water, so we'll have to see how I do.

In our last two days we will be doing 3 dives, kayaking, a camel safari, snorkelling and quadbiking! I think I'll be 'all funned out' as the Cow would say, and just about ready to get down to some studying.

Do Not Bend

2006-02-26T23:00:00.000+02:00

I'm having a great time in Dahab. The weather's beautiful, staying in a gorgeous hotel and with good company. The Cow and I went diving yesterday - only an introductory dive but it was definitely an interesting experience, if not pure unalloyed joy to begin with. Having recklessly committed ourselves, we donned our wetsuits (wrapping something round for modesty) and then put on a hood - a loathsome fishy smelling object which is apparently easier to put on when wet. Then one at a time, we took the plunge with our instructor. She didn't seem to believe in taking things slowly. The first time we went under was a bit stressful - I didn't feel like I was sucking in enough water, and also my ears weren't 'equalising' - so the pressure as we went further down was getting painful..eventually I had a panic and started flailing about and pointing to the distant surface, and she slowly led me back up - if you go to fast you end up having bubbles of gas in your bloodstream, i.e. the bends. After a minute of calming down and deep breaths, we went back under, and despite ear pain it became more fun. I saw schools of bright blue fish, stripey black and yellow fish and coral reefs. The Cow wants to go off and ride bikes now, so will continue later.

Nubian country

2006-02-23T10:04:00.000+02:00

It's been a long time since I blogged, chiefly because I have been too busy entertaining and being entertained :) We are currently in Aswan, the last stop on a river cruise of Luxor, Edfu, Kom Ombo and Aswan. One would imagine that a Nile cruise would be a relaxed, leisurely trip, but each day we've been woken up at 6 or 7am for our sightseeing tours, which doesn't suit me too well. Otherwise, the weather has been great, our rooms were good, the food delicious, and our only objection was being exiled from the deck at times due to inconsiderate under-clothed Europeans.

I discovered that I have a violent allergic reaction to horses when we rode around the pyramids in Giza. It was an unpleasant experience, particularly because my eyelids swelled up and the whites of my eyes turned red..unfortunately at Edfu there was no avoiding the horses as the only way to get to the Temple of Horus was by horse and carriage (or caleche as its called here), giving me some breathing problems for the rest of the day. Sadly, this means I won't be able to join Bikey and the Cow when they go horse riding in Dahab.

We have been turned out of our cruise ship this morning and won't be catching a train until 9.30pm so Mr C has gone for a caleche ride and a visit to the Nubian Museum with Amma (his mum) while I have been getting ripped off in the bazaar and blogging. The felucca rides on the Nile are amazing - the scenery all along the river has been beautiful and a welcome change from the dusty grime of Cairo. It feels like you're in a Famous Five adventure - going off to Kirrin Island or something! You can actually spend 2 or 3 nights in a Felucca doing a proper boat trip, sleeping on deck under the stars etc, but it's a bit difficult logistically with hijab, besides being quite cold and uncomfortable from what I can gather.

I am definitely all Templed out now - i think we've been to five or six in the past four days..although it is amazing that all these buildings have survived for so long. After they built the second dam in Aswan they physically moved six or seven temples to different places as they would have been completely submerged otherwise. When you see them though, you absolutely can't imagine how on earth such huge monuments could have been moved.

I will blog pictures of my bloodshot eyes and the temples etc when we get back to Cairo. I'm going to search the internet for a copy of Death on the Nile now - can you believe it can't be found here? Cheerio.

Mayday job

2006-02-10T19:45:00.000+02:00

I found out yesterday morning, that I have in fact got a job, at Mayday Hospital in Croydon. This was after spending ages trying to find out the night before, only to have the site repeatedly crash on me. It was closed down completely after that, citing 'heavy traffic' as the reason, even though there are only a finite number of us medical students, and as far as I can gather, you can predict bandwidth on websites and avoid this kind of fiasco.

Anyway, the job seems fairly satisfactory, as it's at the closest hospital to the house and is supposed to be a decent hospital. It comprises three rotations which are four months long each : Medicine (Rheumatology), E/ Care 2 (I can only assume this is Emergency or Elderly or Early care), and Surgery (Vascular). Although I spent some time on a vascular surgery firm I don't remember much about it, other than a lecture on obstruction by a spiky haired girl. It's a little alarming to actually have a job, because now I have to face the reality of being a Doctor, as compared to a Medical Student. I also have to face up to the fact that I have exams in a mere 95 days...

We went to City Stars Mall yesterday, to watch Narnia and have a celebratory meal. I've seen Narnia before but Bikey and Mr C hadn't so they quite enjoyed it. I was excited to see that they are, in fact, going to be showing Memoirs of a Geisha as I have been dying to see it..the book was so beautiful, and the film looks fantastic too. We ate at a Chinese place last night and also finally got to taste Cinnabons - or rather Chocolate ones, as we just chose the biggest and juiciest looking Cinnabon and it was really a chocolate version. It was tasty, especially when it was fresh and warm, but I'm quite glad they're not available in England..each Cinnabon contains 34 grams of fat! Not to mention 670 calories..that is very scary.

2006-02-08T08:10:00.000+02:00

Last night, Mr C and I were watching a random Arab channel, when an interview came on with a Sheikh speaking in the most beautiful clear Fusha Arabic ever. Well, it was supposed to be an interview, but the guy basically turned it into a khutbah. I have never in my life seen anyone speak like that about Islam. He would have been an incredibly gifted actor - the lilting tones of his voice, the facial expressions, by turns sorrowful, hopeful, encouraging, and sincere... it was true drama and we were riveted, despite not understanding a great deal of what was said. What made it especially cool (and kind of funny) was that the interviewer was forced to sit there through his speech, trying to get a question in here and there when he paused for breath. It turns out that he is actually the Grand Mufti of Aleppo in Syria, Dr Ahmed Hassoun. If you ever get the chance to see him (I think we were watching Manar) then do, you're in for a treat. This is the best picture I could find.

Anyway, I've been thinking of going to the AUSSS International Congress for a while, but logistically its proving to be a problem. It's basically a conference for medical students from all around the world. It's quite a swanky affair for a medical student thing, and as its all subsidised by sponsorship you get to stay at a 5* Hotel on the Nile and go to presentation dinners and workshops etc for a very reasonable price. It's four days long (12-15 Feb) and my mother-in-law and sister-in-law are coming on the 13th night. I may just go to the opening ceremony stay the night (if possible) and go to the day's conference, before coming home to tidy and cook before they arrive. There are some interesting sounding evening events, but I suspect that they are a bit dodgy what with dancing and so on, so I don't think I'll be missing too much.

I haven't commented on the cartoon ruckus yet, but I don't think I have much to add to the debate other than the World has Gone Mad.

Waiting for Gumah

2006-02-07T08:34:00.000+02:00

Gumah, who collects the rent for our flat, came round on Sunday while I was out. The rent wasn't due until yesterday, so Mr C sent him away again, saying we didn't have the money and to come back later. We had decided long before, that we were going to subtract the cost of the heaters from the rent and put up a good fight to make sure they didn't con us out of our money. After all, it's ridiculous to expect people to live in a freezing cold flat with no heating, after Gumah had told Bikey that the air conditioners in each room gave out heat too, but he just didn't know how to work them.

Duly, yesterday, we arranged for Gumah to come at 7pm. Mr C had gone to pray, so when he arrived it was myself and Bikey at the helm, with Bikey playing the starring role, as an all-'Ammiyah-speaking gal who knows how to talk tough to the locals. To understand the ensuing argument, you need to know that our rent is 2400 Egyptian pounds, our heaters cost 300, and we wanted to pay 2000 (including costs such as electrician and plumber and having to buy stuff around the house). Bikey told Gumah that we would only pay 2000 and started outlining her reasons. He in turn, threatened to chuck us out if we refused to pay the extra 400 ('Someone would take the flat tomorrow if we rented it') The atmosphere during the scene, played out at our front door, Gumah and friend without, Bikey and I within, was becoming rather strained when Gumah's friend pipes up in a stage whisper "Where are they from?". Gumah, stopping short says "I don't know..where are you from?" to which Bikey replies with a hostile "Leih?" (Read: Why the hell should I tell you?)

We agreed to disagree and take the matter to the landlady, who hitherto we had supposed was languishing in a hospital bed (as we had been told only that day by Gumah, the wily rogue). After a false start, in which Gumah made us walk all the way to her house only to find she was busy and couldn't see us until 10, we returned. Skipping past Gumah's shack and evading his small son who asked if we wanted his Baba ("No!") we went up to the landlady's flat. Ironically, it was very cosily heated. A polite but determined discussion then took place between Bikey and AlHaggah, as she is known. Neither party was prepared to accept a change in their terms and for 40 minutes it was a stalemate. The Haggah blamed Bikey for getting the flat without knowing about the heating, and we all blamed Gumah for misleading us on that point. Eventually, she agreed to reducing the rent by 100, and we grudgingly had to accept (as she had threatened to simply take it out of our deposit anyway). After this, we were offered cups of tea, which we accepted out of politeness, and then burnt ourselves trying to finish in a hurry so we could leave.

Anyway, much qudos to Bikey for her efforts yesterday, particularly for standing up to the formidable Gumah. She is one tough cookie.

2006-02-06T10:46:00.000+02:00

I've started the undergraduate chest medicine course at Ain Shams, which involves sitting in a lecture hall with 40-50 other medical students listening to lectures in Egyptian 'ammiyah. The lectures are easier to understand than you might think (although still requiring concentration), as a typical sentence goes something like this: 'alauscultation walpercussion muhimm giddan giddan, fe bronchial breathing mithl auscultation of the trachea'..and so on. As far as I understood, medics are taught in English, but I haven't noticed that to be the case as yet.

The second day, a patient hopped on a bed at the front of the lecture hall and was examined, a few students at a time, by the entire lecture hall full of students! He took it very well considering the circumstances. The doctor giving the lecture did speak about respect for the patient, which is the first time I've heard anyone mention such a concept in all my time in Egypt. Also, I was told that all the students - all 40 or 50!- go on the ward round together! That must be a sight to behold..if I was a patient I'd be terrified.

I have been baking up a storm in cinnamon buns, thanks to Mona, who lent me her baking kit. The first lot were not great, as I used a different recipe to my usual one, the second and third were better, but they always taste best straight out of the oven rather than later on, especially when you don't have a microwave. I think I'm all cinnamon bunned out now though. I've also been looking at food blogs - this one is absolutely beautiful and has won an award for Best Photography in the 2005 Food Blog Awards.

2006-01-31T17:23:00.000+02:00

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

2006-01-31T11:53:00.000+02:00

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

2006-01-30T08:38:00.001+02:00

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

2006-01-25T16:38:00.000+02:00

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

2006-01-24T18:35:00.000+02:00

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 .

2006-01-23T23:28:00.000+02:00

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

2006-01-22T20:57:00.000+02:00

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

2006-01-19T10:07:00.000+02:00

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

2006-01-16T19:25:00.000+02:00

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?

2006-01-15T08:02:00.000+02:00

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

2006-01-15T07:29:00.000+02:00

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

2006-01-12T12:10:00.000+02:00

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

2006-01-08T20:53:00.000+02:00

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.

2006-01-07T19:47:00.000+02:00

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!

2006-01-03T22:30:00.000+02:00

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.

2006-01-02T11:18:00.000+02:00

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.

2006-01-01T13:37:00.000+02:00

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 :)

2005-12-15T01:39:00.000+02:00

I am wondering whether to continue blogging, considering that Mr C gets 10 comments per post, when he hardly ever blogs, and no-one even reads mine :(

Have nearly finished my report, which is cheering me up nicely. Am all set to breeze into the GP's surgery tomorrow morning, hand it in, hang about for a few appointments and an antenatal clinic, and then swan back off to London, triumphant. Surviving Crewe is a triumph indeed. Then all I have to do is shop and pack and then off we go. The phrase 'Four Weddings and a Funeral' just popped into my head..I hope that's not a premonition.

We have decided, that as Bangladesh is likely to be a stressful rush, and Egypt is going to be mostly work, we will make our stopover in Istanbul our anniversary holiday. I'm looking forward to going there most of all..I went last summer and it was beautiful.

2005-12-13T19:22:00.000+02:00

Still feeling generally sleep-deprived and awful. But nothing cheers me up like a nice afternoon in the nursing home! I was reminded of Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator - you know the bit where the grandparents take too much of the Vitawonk or Wonkavite and end up as old as Methuselah..well that's what they all looked like.

Read an interesting article today, about how mothers should treat their newborn babies. You can read it here if you wish. Apparently there are two schools of thought: the flowers-in-your-hair hippy camp or the baby bootcamp camp. I remember a good friend of mine, who, before the birth of her baby was adamant that she was going to follow the advice of The Contented Little Baby Book, which sets out a schedule for the baby which has to be stuck to completely rigidly, e.g. wake up at 2.15pm, feed, change, back to sleep by 3.30pm etc etc. It sounded mad, not least because the woman who wrote it has never had kids of her own. Of course, my friend abandoned the plan as soon as the bundle came along - you can't really tell a baby what to do all the time.

In other news, I don't think you have all met my PDA yet! (Well actually, I think most of you have) You can see a photo here That's not my hand, by the way.

I'd better go and finish this blasted report, damn its eyes.

2005-12-13T00:24:00.000+02:00

Assalamu alaikum all,

Am feeling horribly tired and exhausted, which I think may have something to do with the fact I need to write 1500 words on osteoporosis by the end of the evening. I downloaded Blogger for Word so that I don’t have to wait until I’m online to write something, and also to get in the habit while I’m in Bangladesh, so I can write while I’m on random planes and trains.

There are just five days left before we go! To be honest, I’m a bit apprehensive about going to Bangladesh, as I’ll have to deal with loads of new relatives (on Mr C’s side) and ones that I’ve forgotten or have vague memories of on my side. It’s always very difficult to know what to say to people, especially when, as Pink will verify, your Bengali accent is terrible. Now if you add to that the fact that everyone else will be speaking a different dialect, you can see why it might be a bit weird. I’ve been having some good intensive training in Sylheti over here, which may help. And there’s the little matter of the ‘functions’ – it almost makes me rue the day I married Mr C (kidding, kidding!). Will keep you posted on developments while we’re out there, and maybe even a picture or two courtesy of Cow’s internet connection.

2005-12-07T14:19:00.000+02:00

Happy days! Aside from leaving my phone at home today, which is always a pain in the neck, I have had two pieces of good news today. Firstly, I am for the first time in probably over a year, financially in credit! My NHS Bursary has finally come through, which saves a lot of worry and bother. Well not a lot, as Mr C bails me out from time to time. Although the actual amount is pitiful, considering that it's supposed to be a student loan replacement. Secondly, I sold a PDA on Ebay. This may not sound very exciting, but it was all a bit of a gamble. I decided I needed a new PDA (I do need it, ok?) and went a bit mad on Ebay, eventually ending up with three winning auctions. One, I decided not to buy, and luckily was let off by the seller. The second I bought and sold today. The third, I'm keeping. But I would have been in very hot water if I hadn't managed to sell it, considering my then financial situation. However, all's well that ends well :)

I went on a 'home visit' just now - this is when an occupational therapist and/or social worker visit an elderly person's home to assess whether it's ok for them to go back after being in hospital. I said to Mr C last week, that when I'm old I wouldn't mind living on my own, but then I was envisaging a snug little house which is all sparkling and clean with a grandchild prattling on my knee. The man whose flat we went to see was living in fairly depressing sheltered accommodation, with stained carpets, an ageing kitchen and nothing to keep him company other than the television. He had two bin bags full of lager cans in his kitchen. He was in the Navy, had cooked for the royal family ("I cooked for the royal family, I should think I could cook for myself!"), and had been married with five sons, none of whom he feels he can trouble to do his weekly shopping. He could walk into Crewe town centre before he had a fall and broke his hip, and now didn't even have the strength to make a cup of tea for himself.

Yesterday I went to see a woman in the nursing home temporarily after she had been climbing on a chair to reach something at home and had fallen onto her wrists, fracturing them both. She also lived on her own, and couldn't see how she was going to manage alone, as she couldn't even dress herself or lift a fork in her present condition. It's difficult to know how to reassure people in this position, their children are content to get on with their own lives and give a hand from time to time, but essentially they're left to manage the best they can.

2005-12-07T00:30:00.000+02:00

Mr C has a blog! Go to http://ramblesofmrc.blogspot.com

Enjoy :)

2005-12-05T20:17:00.000+02:00

I have decided to do away with the Title field, as it becomes rather tedious trying to think of something new each time. I think that's what puts me off blogging maybe - you don't know how many times I've logged in and changed my mind after seeing that blank box next to Title.

Anyway, have skived off a very dull tutorial to have a blissfully housewifely day in London. The upshot of all this, is that for the first time in weeks, if not months, I am able to work at my desk, having cleared it of the papers, books, jewellery, makeup and other paraphernalia that cover it. There's still some left, and as any Azmi will tell you, it is a favourite trick of mine to pile everything together into the smallest possible area so that everything else looks tidy in comparison. And boy does it!

I also found some time to go to the local library and 'fess up to losing a book. Actually, it was Mr C that lost it, and as my efforts to make him take the rap had been steadfastly resisted for the last month, I thought it was about time we paid the fine, before it turned into ten Harry Potters' worth (that was the book that got lost). You'll be relieved to hear that it didn't come anywhere near eclipsing my Personal Best, which is £42 for two books at Stopford library.

Am definitely looking forward to going away, but want to see as many of you as possible before I go. The problem is time, and trains. There are no trains from Crewe to Manchester after the 11th, which may cause some difficulty, but we'll see what can be worked out. For those of you who are interested, here is the proposed itinerary (so you know where to find us should you wish to visit us Back Home):

Date

17th December 2005
Depart LGW 10.10 QR76

18th December 2005
Arrive DAC 07.30 QR344
Stay with Mr C's uncle. Time of arrival to be confirmed.
19th December 2005
Dhaka
Stay/visit with my paternal grandparents(tbc)
20th December 2005
Dhaka
Stay/visit with my maternal grandparents (tbc)
21st December 2005
Dhaka
22nd December 2005
Fly to Syhlet –Moulvi Bazar
Father-in-law to pick up
23rd December 2005
Moulvi Bazar
24th December 2005
Hingagia
25th December 2005
Hingagia
26th December 2005
Moulvi Bazar
27th December 2005
Moulvi Bazar Function
28th December 2005
Fly/Train to Dhaka
29th December 2005
Dhaka
30th December 2005
Dhaka Function
31st December 2005
Dhaka
1st January 2006
Depart 08.40 QR345
Arrive LHR 17.30

then a quiet day at home, before flying to Turkey for three days' stay and then to Egypt. I'm just a bit concerned that the inevitable food poisoning will come after I've left Bangladesh and arrived in Turkey. Mr C has told me that he'll leave me to rest in the hotel and go sightseeing in the event of this occurring.

cringe...

2005-11-29T17:48:00.000+02:00

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

2005-11-28T19:23:00.000+02:00

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

2005-11-14T19:26:00.000+02:00

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

2005-11-12T15:25:00.000+02:00

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

2005-11-09T03:04:00.000+02:00

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

2005-11-07T20:26:00.000+02:00

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?

Crewe

2005-10-27T14:25:00.000+03:00

Am feeling fairly refreshed after a week off, during which many of you will know that I attempted a full thickness skin graft on my thumb using a cheese grater, whilst cooking for Mr C for the first time Ever. I am now based in beautiful Cheshire, amongst rolling fields and winding country lanes. Which would all be utterly fabulous, if it wasn't for the dreadful problems I had with my room.

Upon arriving in Crewe, at the customary hour of midnight, I was greeted by my new flatmate, Tim. As in male. Obviously, being a modest Muslim female, I was a bit dismayed, (as, you may imagine, was Pops). However, there was nothing much to be done - the night was young, but not that young, so I put up and shut up. The flat was nice by the way, newly fitted everything and clean to boot. The next morning, I attempted to create a kerfuffle in the Accommodation Office, only to be told that the manager was away all week. Desperate measures were called for, and I was forced to move into Student Nurse accommodation where there was a spare room in a flat with two girls (with the gallant aid of Mr C, who carried the majority of my 12 bags). Leighton Hospital does not believe in equality of the classes, so student nurses have to pay for their accommodation (ours is free), and its also old and dingy with dangerous appliances. I was informed that it would be wiser not to use the back hob on the cooker as 'it'll take your eyebrows off'. And 'don't use the bedside lamp as they have been known to electrocute people'. This was on Thursday. On Monday, I returned to find a man with tasteful whiskers had moved in as well, thus defeating the whole purpose of the move. So I decided a nice new mixed flat was better than an old unpleasant mixed one, so its back to square one.

Otherwise, Crewe is nice enough, despite the rich perfume of manure in the air. More adventures soon.

How do I make a poll?

2005-10-07T17:54:00.000+03:00

Rosie and I are planning to break free of the shackles of civilisation and university and go on a life-affirming trip in the summer..embracing the University of Life, as it were. We have been debating where to go - we have two weeks (Mr C will not donate more of his time with me to this worthy cause), limited funds (I would say £500-1000, but a grand is pushing it after Egypt - more on that later), and we want an adventure. This does not necessarily mean trailing through the Amazon forest or breaking bread with nomads in deserts, but something which calls to our need to prove we are independent beings, able to fend for ourselves and not quite the feckless idiots our parents/siblings/friends/husband thinks we are.

So what is it to be? I wanted to do a poll, but not quite sure how to set one up - Fudge can you help? Otherwise, the choices are as follows, with one or other of us keen on each, but not always both (notes in brackets):

Spain, Portugal & Morocco (I've been to Morocco, and Rosie wants to go somewhere neither of us has been, and Mr C wants me to go to Spain with him, though this is a spurious objection)
Eastern Europe (i.e. Czech Republic, Hungary, Slovakia and the like - Mr C not keen as he thinks its 'dangerous')
Northern Europe (i.e. Paris, Versailles, Vienna, Geneva, Rome, Venice, inter-railing it most likely)
Turkey
America (mainly New York)
Far East

What do you think? My personal favourites are Spain etc and Northern Europe as I like the idea of being a backpacking wanderer..however anywhere with my Rosie sounds good to me.

On being a tortoise

2005-10-04T01:20:00.000+03:00

You wouldn't think that being a married student with a very kind mother-in-law and doting husband who live 200 miles away would be hard work. Beg to differ, little lady (assuming that's what you are). For the past nine months, I have been a veritable nomad, moreso in the last two months since I have traded in my parents' home for a silver suitcase whose handle falls off at any given opportunity. Public transport is bad enough when you have a bus to catch, but when its a train and a tube and a train and a bus and a bus, things start to get nightmareish. And it doesn't help to look like a homeless bag lady when walking in between all the stations. When Mr C makes his rare excursions up North, he somehow manages to do it looking as cool as some cucumbers (as Anatole would say) with only a small satchel and a pair of PJs. Not fair.

Have had an overdose of TV this weekend, what with 4 episodes of Everwood (which has the most HORRENDOUS theme music btw but is addictive - damn you Jug) and The Grudge which scared me rigid. I used to love horror films as a teen but no longer have a taste for them - does that mean i'm ageing?

Will post some photos as soon as I figure out the programme..times have moved on without me in the blogging world.

Ramadan Mubarak everyone - and can I just mention that you should all get on to www.sunnipath.com and sign up for a course because they are excellent! Like being in the presence of scholars only you don't have to wear hijab :) Mr C and I have started one on Arabic grammar - well its one way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

if you go down to the woods today..

2005-07-20T00:04:00.000+03:00

Only five days to the wedding! More importantly, only five days to the lake district! I will have the opportunity to play house, and cook and dust and clean to my heart's content. Ideally, Mr C would be out at work thus giving me the opportunity to watch some daytime TV and catch up with similarly leisured pals, and would then return forthwith (IF that's what I mean) to a cup of tea and slippers by the fire (he WAS born in the 70s). However we can't have everything.

Anyway, so I have been pondering for weeks, or is it months, whether to get a picnic basket or a rucksack. Mr C says rucksack, because he can carry it with ease on long hikes, but then he has no poetry in his soul. I prefer a lovely hamper, so I can feel like I'm Ethel in the William books, with her swain, sat beside the river. In the end I bought a hamper which was be-yoo-tiful, all shiny conker brown and woven with two handles to swing it by jauntily. But then, I bought the rucksack because it's insulated and quite Famous Five.

So now that that decision's done with, I'd like to know what people think I should pack for the picnic. All suggestions welcome, the more literary allusions the better! I'll start you off: raspberry cordial as in Anne of Green Gables (she got Diana drunk on it) .

dancing queen

2005-07-19T01:14:00.000+03:00

Well the party is yesterday's news, but that won't stop me commenting. As you will all know, Rosie and Fudge having beat me to it by a long chalk, the party was a pink and black theme...the idea being to make it suitably decadent and keeping the pink theme at the same time. Having spent the last two weeks doing the dullest project ever, I think I was entitled to a good send-off, and was willing to go all out, until the expenses started creeping up, at which point I wondered whether it was possible to feed guests bread and butter and coke and save all the money I would have spent on pizza.

In the end, I needn't have worried. The pink and black balloons, ribbons, candles, petals and favour bags did their job and everyone was too awestruck to even think about eating :) I had been agonising about my outfit too but last minute shopping before Fudge's do on the Thursday gave me some ideas. Mr C did not approve by the way, he believes wives are like rare jewels, which should be hidden from the sight of Others. I bite my thumb at you Sir.

The entertainment was truly fabulous, with a few good surprises - the stars of the show kept things under wraps fairly well, and even though I had a general idea, it was great to see it played out. But come on, I'm not that superficial! Am I?? Well done to Rosie, your bit took guts! Everyone else is a natural exhibitionist so no credit there :p Thank you all, I was very touched.

The chocolate fountain with which we lured everyone to the party wasn't tested and so wasn't used at the party. I unfortunately blew it up yesterday, when I plugged it in to the mains without using a voltage transformer. Quite impressive sparks and clouds of smoke flew out, causing Mother to emit a loud scream, startling all and sundry. It was a sad demise. It may be possible to repair it, but seems unlikely.

graveyard shift

2005-06-18T14:55:00.000+03:00

Just when you thought my blogging days were Entirely Over, here I am again. I have just returned from my cushy hundred-quid-a-night job (don't worry it's all above board)..we're supposed to follow weary docs like shadows in the night (or 'spy on them' as they say). The first night I got about six or seven hours' sleep in two armchairs fashioned into a bed. The next night, fatigue was creeping up on me, and I retired to the mosque floor, with a pile of scarves serving as a pillow. Last night, I watched Gone with the Wind. Don't you just love Scarlett? She is such a vixen. One thing I did notice about the hospital, is that it is making me less vain, as there isn't a single mirror to be found in the place. Which is probably just as well, as me on night duty is not a pretty sight to behold in any case.

Wedding plans are forging ahead, we now have a mehndi venue, and hopefully a party venue too. I have a small gripe though. It seems many-a-folk are practising their pirouettes and arabesques and indian hands, but not, Not I say, for my party. No, it is all for Another. I hope Rosie and Fudge take note and ensure steps are taken to ensure my party is as much of a rip-roaring success as I'm sure the other one will be. (I have forgotten her blog name, therefore cannot refer to in person). Speaking of the party, I do believe Fudge has not given us the results of her poll. Or rather I haven't been able to find them on her voluminous site - pray do tell my dear. Also, soundtrack compilation is taking place, the Golden Oldies will be taking priority but please make your suggestions for old and new alike...

I've got another puzzle for you

2005-05-23T12:31:00.000+03:00

Dear old things,

I have yet again been absent for a protracted interval, partly because I was feeling lazy about blogging and partly because I was discouraged by comments such as 'your blog is the least inspiring' and 'boro apu's blog's not even funny!'. Perhaps I do not have the wit and madness of some others, but Once more into the Fray, my friends.

The title is in homage to the Original and the Best, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Upon going to the cinema to see the better-than-expected Kingdom of Heaven, I was confronted with the hideous image of a Fat Flawn masquerading as Augustus Gloop. I recoiled in horror, to Mr C's amusement. On my way out, I was stared at by a moody Charlie Bucket, who looked like he hadn't seen a meal in years. I say nothing of the evil looking Willy Wonka. A generation of children will grow up smirched by the unnecessary adaptation of a great film.

"THERE'S NO EARTHLY WAY OF KNOWING
WHICH DIRECTION WE ARE GOING
THERE'S NO KNOWING WHERE WE'RE ROWING
OR WHICH WAY THE RIVER'S FLOWING
IS IT RAINING
IS IT SNOWING
IS A HURRICANE A-BLOWING
NOT A SPECK OF LIGHT IS SHOWING
SO THE DANGER MUST BE GROWING
ARE THE FIRES OF HELL A GLOWING?
IS THE GRISLY REAPER MOWING?
YES! THE DANGER MUST BE GROWING
FOR THE ROWERS KEEP ON ROWING
AND THEY'RE CERTAINLY NOT SHOWING
ANY SIGNS THAT THEY ARE SLOWING!"

And now take a moment to reflect on the bloodcurdling scream that followed. And those freaky reptiles.

If you've made it this far, we can now move onto the subject of the much-discussed North and South. Mr C and I finally watched it, finishing at 1am no less. I hesitate to say that although it was pretty good, I dont see where people get the daft idea that its better than Pride and Prejudice! And speaking from a personal point of view, Kingdom of Heaven was far more pleasing to the eye, if you know what I mean. But it were good, I'll not deny that.

Finally, to report on a Wondrous occurence, as we were ushered into the Lowry theatre late, we found ourselves waiting outside the theatre (the actual theatre bit, not the outside doors you understand) with, actually WITH the Inspector! He asked us some questions too, so we quite felt part of the cast. The play was smashing (literally).

Oh I must tell you a rather good joke old Dad came up with. We were discussing the mysterious disappearance of an Allan key, which I said I had been keeping handy. He then said, it was HANDY but it LEGGED it, did it? Very Pooteresque. Mr C's efforts, along the same cheesy lines, consisted of several quips about John Thornton closing his cotton mill and opening a chocolate factory. Ha.

deeply ashamed

2005-05-01T13:20:00.000+03:00

As many of you will already be aware, I have most pitifully managed to fail my theory test. I give you all licence to gloat at my misfortune in your comments (seeing as you'll all do it anyway). I read the entire highway code and did HUNDREDS of practice questions, but ultimately I'm probably just not a very observant person as my hazard perception score was lamentably low. Ooooh Agony Agony! (Does anyone recognise that quote? from some cartoon but I forget which). Mr C popped off to France on Friday night, and had a whale of a time on a boys' version of Thelma & Louise, managing to go round a roundabout the wrong way and driving in the opposite direction down French freeways (or whatever) at 110 mph. He left a very beautiful bouquet of roses for me (the first in three months I'll have you know) which I pruned to within a half inch of their lives - for which I was brutally assaulted by a thorn. Yesterday on his return, we went out for a meal, again a rarity in our courtship. Well it's not really a courtship, but in proper Islamic marriages the courtship comes after I suppose. We plumped for the curiously overrated chicken-and-chips joint Nando's, and Mr C in a fit of madness ordered a truly gigantic platter for the both of us, all of it liberally coated in the 'hot' sauce. Half way through the meal, I was in agony. My mouth burned like the fiery furnace Gandalf fell into in the serpent scene. My eyes watered. I could not go on. The lesson being, Know your Limits.

Londontown

2005-04-25T14:08:00.000+03:00

Dear all,

As most of you will have realised, I have popped off yet again to London. Saturday was like an oasis of calm, my sister-in-law having arranged a Spa day for us all, having rightly thought we needed a break to soothe our frazzled nerves. Massage, facial and manicure later, I was as bright as a new pin. The manicurist commented that I had nice nails, but I could not get Mr. C to corroborate.

Have gone on a Literary Spree, recent reads including:
Purple Hibiscus - set in Nigeria, with impressively psycho dad in it
My Sister's Keeper - ethical dilemmas galore, cried buckets at end, which Mr C thought was 'sweet'
Brick Lane - have meant to read it forever, and actually quite good now that I have...some confused Bengalis out there.

Now I should focus on my alternative reading list of Oxford Handbook of Clinical Medicine, BSM Pass Your Theory Test and anything the net yields on von Willebrand's disease.

debate report

2005-04-22T01:11:00.000+03:00

oh dear it's been so long since I've blogged I realise none of you actually KNOW about the debate! This very evening I spoke at a BMA Students debate, Manchester vs. Liverpool on the subject of 'Televised Anatomical Dissection : Education or Obscenity?'. I had to introduce in a team of four, and for those who are interested, my speech is reproduced below:

Ladies and gentleman, Chair,

We are here tonight to talk about an issue which cuts to the very core of our society’s values – freedom of choice, free access of information for all, and the boundaries we set on learning. Education or obscenity? Respect or indignity? Art or atrocity?

When we speak of televised anatomy dissection, it is important to define what we mean exactly. Televised anatomy dissection is the dissection of the human body presented factually, to inform and educate, showing respect for all those involved, dead or alive. Anatomy for Beginners, which was screened on Channel 4 could be considered to be an example of the genre. Human bodies were dissected in front of a live audience, based on four themes related to different body systems. What is important to note about the series is that all those whose bodies were used had given their full consent before death, and those in the audience were medical students and people who had themselves agreed to donate their bodies to science after death. All participants were therefore fully aware of what was involved in the programme. Anatomy for Beginners was screened after the watershed, thus preventing inappropriate exposure of young children to the subject matter. In this way, freedom from watching the programme was ensured. Which left those that wanted the freedom to be able to watch to learn from it.

We are not condoning Plastic Surgery Live, cannibalism or programmes on similar subjects masquerading as educational resources. We are simply demonstrating that dissection has a valuable role in teaching the average person, who may not know their pelvis from their patella. How many times have you, as a medical student, had people ask you which side is my heart on? Or where exactly are the kidneys anyway? There is widespread ignorance about the human body and its time something was done to redress the imbalance. Television is an ideal medium of education which reaches all sections of our society.

We believe strongly that all people deserve respect in life and in death. Death is one of the few remaining taboos in our society, not easily faced by any of us. Yet it is the perverse reality that simulated scenes of death and violence are perfectly acceptable to almost all of us. How many here have seen Silence of the Lambs? Then again, sad and distressing as it may be, our television screens often come alive with images of torture, murder, massacre rape. On every news broadcast. At any time. Without warning. Death has many faces on our screens, and while for many of us it is uncomfortable to watch, there is no logic in banning one and allowing all others without question.

Morality is relative – if we chose two people in this room at random, is it really likely that they would agree with each other’s views on moral issues? Abortion, the legalisation of cannabis, euthanasia, even whether to take a twenty pound note you find on the street or hand it in – we each have our own ideas on all these issues and more. If producers avoided clashing with the morality of every single person in Britain, it would result in bland, mindless television. At the same time, controversial issues need to be dealt with sensitively showing respect for those who don’t want to watch things they find offensive.

Televised dissection brings an ancient practice to the modern age. Dissecting the human body is not a new concept, and has played an important part in the education of doctors for centuries. Why then, can this same method of education not be used to educate the lay person about his or her body? If it is acceptable for medical students, why does it stop being acceptable for the public? Professor von Hagens, of Anatomy for Beginners fame, commented that he ‘re-democratises anatomy’. An understanding of the human body is not the exclusive right of the medical profession alone.

Many of those who volunteer to offer their bodies to science do so with high ideals: to continue to benefit society after death. Don’t they benefit society by helping to instruct an entire nation in the mysteries of the human body?

Wonder if anyone read that? Anyway it was good, and got to interrupt and fluster the opposition several times. The esteemed judges decided to say it was a joint win (as though we were kids "Never mind, you BOTH won!"), althought it was CLEAR we had the better argument. I got a box of Quality Street (dammit tune's in my head now) and, having decided to forego the cheese and wine, skipped off back to Stockport.

here comes the bride..

2005-04-20T21:52:00.000+03:00

..all short and wide, here comes the groom - and however it goes. I am writing this wearing my be-yoo-tiful wedding clothes (as odd as this may seem). In fact, I did have the intention of not actually taking them off again until after the wedding, but common sense, in the form of concerns about prayer, study and dodging Mr C for three months, prevailed. Does anyone actually know if it is an Old Bengali Custom to not let one's intended see one's garments for the big day? He claims not to be interested, stating (like Provincial Lady's morose spouse Robert) I'm sure you'll look Nice Anyway. I still have battle scars from the last time I wore one of these things, the dupattas are not kind to the skin. Perhaps they should try cashmere, or faux fur, though the effect may be a little eccentric.

Interesting goings-on in the last few weeks, including an extended visit to London, incorporating several trips away from the marital home, to Green Street and Topshop most significantly. As can be read elsewhere in Bikey's warblings, my dear old bosom chums (as Anne would say) paid me a visit, admiring the Famous Five railway (not train) station and the picturesqueness -if that's a word- of Kent. Despite being in reality SE20, and not falling within Kent at all, Mr C likes to keep up the great pretence that we live in the Garden of England. I have yet to pay a visit to Tunbridge Wells, which always sounded like exactly the sort of place I should have been born, 200 years ago. Also, Kent is plentifully supplied with a form of cottage called Oasts with round miniature Hobbit towers called Roundels, and you can actually rent them to stay in! Oh to holiday in a Roundel, what pleasure. Mr C, I know you are reading this.

Lots and lots more to say, but will leave until a time when i am not swathed in yards and yards of heavy silk.

flower fairy

2005-04-05T14:11:00.000+03:00

If I were only 2cm high, I would frolic amongst my flowers like a fairy in its bower. That sounds quite Madeleine Basset-ish, but consider my delight on receiving the supply of miniature pink mulberry rosebuds I ordered. I have been playing with them all morning. (For Mr. C's benefit - I also tidied the kitchen and did copious amounts of washing up.)

I have been much occupied with wedding preparations, or at least preparing for the preparations, if you see what I mean. It is very agonising trying to choose between types of ribbon and which direction to have cards folded. Fudge has kindly offered me some tips based on Mrs H's experience - other advice is most welcome. And for those that wish to warn me that marriage is a Mistake and to Consider - I'm afraid your kindly meant intervention is too late.

In other news, I will be having an exam next week, following which I will be going for a jaunt in the country with a few other medic friends, during which we will most likely torment ourselves about how the exam went and discuss duodenal atresia and Huntingdon's chorea, and other topics of interest.

Le Bourget

2005-03-29T23:05:00.001+03:00

I forgot to mention that we visited the Bourget as well (annual conference of UOIF, the French equivalent of ISB or similar from what I can make out). The Metro was awash with Muslims and there was a shuttle bus transferring people to the Parc d'Expositions where it was held - that's proper French buses not minibuses or dirty white vans or anything.

We went on the last day so didn't hear any stirring French speeches or anything but I caught some of the closing concert with Raihan singing 'Merci Allah'. I also met one of my dear Frenchies (as Cherry, for want of a better pseudonym, used to call them). She had the most delicious little niece with her, all blue eyes and curly blonde hair and eyelashes. I could eat her with a spoon. If only I, too, had married a Morrocan.

There was also a market of awe-inspiring proportions, with fresh Muslim produce from all over the world - jilbabs from Morocco, scarves a plenty and other goodies all surprisingly cheap. Unfortunately, I was only let loose with 20 Euros, so had to curtail my expenditure severely. This would not have been a problem if all the cash machines in the region had not been emptied by previous (doubtless female) greedy shoppers. It teaches me the lesson, of never refusing money when your husband offers it - although he actually only had about 8 euros himself when all was said and done. Oh dear now I'm going to make him feel bad. For the record, Mr C took me out to dinner once and to lunch every day during our trip. He also took me on a scenic walking tour which took in, amongst other things, the gayest road in all Gay Paris.

a comeback Part II

2005-03-29T16:05:00.000+03:00

Have returned from Paris, having been on a nice jaunt with Mr C. We visited the Notre Dame, Louvre, Pompidou Centre, Eiffel Tower and for the rest, I can lend you the Rough Guide. I unfortunately caught a cold, having complied with Mr C's wishes to walk to the Eiffel Tower in pouring rain in unsuitable shoes (mine were, not his). We saw the Mona Lisa, which was ok in its way, but didn't seem to be as extraordinary as all the hype. I prefered the portraits made of fruit and flowers personally, although I've forgotten who painted them. Napoleon III's apartments were very magnificent, one could imagine little Leonie visiting with her Seigneur. Versailles was out this time though, perhaps in the future.

I finally visited a Sephora, which was definitely a highlight :) In fact, I went into three of them, I think. As my long-suffering mec puts it, I was like a kid in a candy shop. In fact I wanted to buy a candy floss scented perfume, but he vetoed.

a comeback Part I

2005-03-29T15:24:00.000+03:00

I realise that I must have a voice on the web in order to tell my tale, as opposed to having my fans read the mangled tabloid version as found in Bikey and Fudge's blogs. I am hoping that Cambridge Psycho has run out of steam (as her last blog entry suggests) and I can rescue my tattered reputation and that of my erswhile Swain, if erstwhile is what I mean (probably not).

So to update on my life, let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start. When we read we begin with ABC when we sing we begin with do-re-mi...ok that'll do pig, that'll do. Well about six weeks ago I had my tonsils out, not precisely an exciting experience unless you have a particular fondness for budget women's magazines. I then went through a convalescence period, and cultivated an interesting style of swallowing. On that note, let me tell you that the Establishment is wrong, and icecream does not help in any sense whatsoever in soothing a throat robbed of its tonsils.

Towards the end of this time, Mr C and mother came to see me at home. As I was feeling much better, I blazed into Domestic Goddess-style activity, cooking, baking and mess-making to my heart's content. It didn't turn out too bad either (other than 'You Idiot! It's only Raiyan!' - It wasn't). And all this time, the Great Drama was unfolding, ready to play itself out in the night. To cut a long and unpleasant story short, my tonsils had decided to commit their final act of defiance and started haemorrhaging, culminating in several hours coughing up blood in A&E, a couple more days in hospital and much shameless attention-seeking on my behalf.

Since then I have been in Oldham delivering babies. I have noticed that Bengali women can be rather high-handed with their fellas when in labour. If I have one message for all you young ladies, its don't push when they tell you to stop. Things rip.

bio-rhythm shocker

2005-02-19T04:52:00.000+02:00

dear all,

after reading Fudge's blog, I decided to carry out a biorhythm compatibility test to see how well suited Mr C and I are. Unfortunately, results were not promising: physical 46%, intellectual 23% and emotional 11%, coming to a grand total of a dismal 27% compatibility. When you consider that Raimi and I are 77% compatible, this is cause for concern. However, I am heartened by the assurance that "If the biorhythm compatibility is low this doesn't mean a relationship won't work: you just have to work harder."

Am now tempted to try all the compatibility tests available on the web to determine our suitability for each other but feel this would be rather rash and a consequence of the late hour.

feeling better

2005-02-17T04:33:00.000+02:00

Yesterday was horrific, couldn't speak or eat or do anything. Was in awful pain, so much so that I couldn't bear to take the medicine most of the time as it's fizzy and stings. But today am much more chirpy, even managing to break out of the house for a couple of hours (to go to the hospital). I took in a Subway sandwich on the way home and regretted it bitterly as my throat felt like it was on fire again.

Finished reading The Diary of a Provincial Lady and have made significant inroads on next installment, but decided to take a break as I am starting to think and write just like her. By which I mean missing out all pronouns and capitalising words Like This, isn't that Strange. It puts an interesting, often more funny, spin on things in the book, but is mentally distressing and hard on the brain. Besides, if you're not used to it (for example in emails or on msn) it sounds slightly bizarre. I wrote a official letter in provincial-lady-shorthand before realising it made me sound like a fob who can't speak English properly. I'm reading 'The Convenient Marriage' instead, by Georgette Heyer. Mr C is attempting to read 'April Lady' on my recommendation, but I fear he won't get very far.

the magdalene sisters

2005-02-17T03:50:00.000+02:00

Just watched the most incredible film and had to come and look it up online. Its based on a true story of the Magdalene asylums in Ireland where all the so-called fallen women were sent. The nuns are completely dastardly and brutal, and its hard to believe that the last of these places closed only in 1996, but I expect they weren't quite the same. The film was only set in 1964. Very moving and shocking, and makes you just hate all men and the injustice of society at the end. I'm not sure if that is just Irish society circa 1964, or in general. Reminded me very much of The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. Bernadette in the film is a great character, especially in the last scene in the asylum.

Apparently it was 'denounced vigorously' by the Vatican, but it was created using the stories of many women, to quote: "While The Magdalene Sisters is a work of fiction, the abuses it depicts are allegedly based on credible survivor accounts of life in the Magdalene institutions, which are said to have taken in as many as 30,000 women between their inception in the 1880s and their final closing in 1996. In fact, there are reports that, according to some survivors, the abuses depicted in The Magdalene Sisters actually fall short of the worst that really happened, and the director himself has commented that he refrained from recreating the most terrible reported incidents for fear of overwhelming and alienating the audience. " (from, of all places, http://www.decentfilms.com/)

The same article quoted above raises an interesting point about stereotyping. As much as Muslims hate to be stereotyped as terrorists and wife-beaters, Catholic priests and nuns must hate the association with child abuse. However, neither they nor we should hide from the realities of what goes on, or has gone on in our societies. OK, so not every Muslim father forces his daughters to marry their cousins back home at 16. But do we do anything about it when it happens? Do we make it a collective responsibility to eradicate the social ills we constantly apologise for? This is a huge failure on our part.

This is beginning to turn into a piece for the SuperRahman blog, so maybe I will give her a chance to step in here...(once I remind her to read this page)

post-op

2005-02-14T12:00:00.000+02:00

I return after a lengthy absence, owing in part to the return of Mr C and other minor events including an exam and the aforementioned operation. For the record, Mr C's hair is growing back quite satisfactorily and the exam went reasonably well - in fact I had a dream the night before last in which I think i got 12000 in the exam. This is of course, impossible, but one can only dream. I recall another girl only got 10800.

Operation was uneventful, but the rest of my stay in hospital was plagued by the presence of Charles and Camilla on every channel, and people offering their twopence-worth on the subject in their absence. Tonsillectomy has provided me with excellent excuse for sleeping (the medication) and eating comforting foods. Unfortunately, chocolate is off the menu, as it is the one thing that guarantees horrendous burning pain on consumption.

Currently reading: The Diary of a Provincial Lady by E.M. Delafield, who is a genius. The unnamed provincial lady has in fact a very average life, but its still very funny. I remember first hearing it on Radio 4 as a series with Imelda Staunton which was excellent.
Current dilemma: Whether or not to buy a new PDA, justification being that the buttons no longer work properly on old one. Have my eye on Clie TH55, but think I should find an unassailable reason for needing it (if Mr C raises an eyebrow), perhaps study-related.

Good luck to SuperRahman on her renewed efforts to rescue our student paper. If my humble blog can be of service it is at your disposal.

traumatised

2005-01-24T18:41:00.000+02:00

Have been doing some last minute cramming, went to sleep at 7am and was woken by the postman at midday. Just two and a half chapters to go, and am almost looking forward to the challenge of the Progress Test. If only I could get myself to start revising sooner, I'm sure I wouldn't do too badly in these things.

Anyway that's not why I'm traumatised. Found out when I'm having my tonsillectomy (10th Feb at Stepping Hill). Another medic who had it done at 16 said it was horrible and painful (he lost a stone in two weeks, or was it two stones in one week?), so being curious I decided to do some investigation...just read this:

My whole throat swelled up, I could taste blood, I was just sitting there balling my eyes out as the pain was just immense. I had shooting pains in my ears. I had to prepare myself for every time I swallowed because each time I swallowed it was like I was swallowing fire.

and if that wasn't bad enough, how about this:

my doctor warned me that days 3-5 would probably be the worst. since i felt so good on day three i thought maybe i was going to be lucky.....boy was i wrong.... day 4 came like a ton of bricks falling on me!! i felt terrible!!!! my throat was so sore i couldnt swollen without wanting to DIE! i expected day 5 to be easier. instead, it was even worse than day 4. and this time no one was there with me. everyone thought i would be ok by than. i was in so much pain!!!! the pain made me cry, and crying really really really hurt which made me cry even harder!!! it was not good! but i was able to calm down and felt a bit better. i hated being nauseas so i didnt want to eat anything. so i suffered most of the day.

All this suffering for a kiddy illness! And the worst thing is that it falls on the day of the mad-Cambridge-bicycle woman's piece-de-resistance, which I was supposed to go down for :(

So if you sympathise please come and visit me, and if you're feeling especially sorry for me, bring along a tub of Ben & Jerry's. Chocolate flavour. There's a Sainsbury's down the road.

where's the exam stress?

2005-01-22T00:15:00.000+02:00

Dear all,

Eid has come and pretty much gone, and as my good friend Superfudge noted, it wasn't a cracker. In fact yesterday I was thinking of suggesting some fun activities for the kids, such as taking them to a theme park, or skiing, or having a marathon Monopoly game, or going camping. But by that time, I bet I'll have as little energy and inclination as all the other Muslim parents in the Western world, and it will all come to nothing. Although I'm impressed with Fudge's sister's idea (hello Mrs H! comment if u read this!) of exploiting younger sisters for babysitting purposes. Free holiday for them, less hassle for you. Win-win situation.

Mr C called briefly yesterday to wish me Eid mubarak, I forgot to ask him about his bald pate, but I am sure it is suitably glossy, and winking in the bright Saudi sunshine. Other than that, we spent most of the day with family, and I fell asleep during The Last Samurai. The food was good though.

Being newly nikah'ed, and getting married 'officially' in July, I am now looking forward to the fun reception decorating side of the wedding, such as flowers, cake (which has to be chocolate), favours, etc. However, I need to settle on a nice colour for my clothes (this being yet another 'bimbo dilemma' to which I am subjecting my sisters) in order to theme things. I've decided to do the whole attention-seeking reality-tv star thing and leave it to YOU, the public, my readership, to decide. But because I don't know how to set up polls, you will just have to leave a comment. I don't seem to be very good at persuading people to comment, for some reason.

Exams are looming frighteningly close, I'm hoping that two and a half days will be adequate to cover 80% of medicine. Half a day is going on Lemony Snicket and Pizza Hut btw (priorities). I suppose the best advice I can offer myself is to pretend the internet doesn't exist, and just get on with it. I hope to be inundated with comments upon my return.

Packages

2005-01-18T21:05:00.000+02:00

salaams again to my wide readership. Today my homecoming was like the 'Christmas Boxes' chapter in What Katy Did at School, my long awaited Amazon, Liz Earle & Splat Cooking parcels all arrived!

In case anyone's interested, I bought the following from Amazon:

The Blind Beekeeper by Daniel Moore. Poetry by the only Muslim poet who seems to stand out from the crowd. Check out www.danielmoorepoetry.com for more information. I first came across his poetry on the website www.theamericanmuslim.org which I found when randomly surfing one day, its basically a magazine which has archived articles dating back to 2001 written by many distinguished Muslim authors and scholars. Its definitely worth a look anyway.
Blythe postcards. Not a current obsession, I'd describe it more as latent. I'm thinking who I can scare with these...
3 PG Wodehouses, Everyman edition. These are gorgeous vintage-y editions which will hopefully eventually replace my tattered old copies (on my shelf if not in my heart). I got Psmith in the City, Jeeves and the Feudal Spirit (with a cunning picture of Bertie with his misguided 'tache) and Heavy Weather.
Stay healthy. Be lazy. An easy detox by Innocent
The Good Women of China: Hidden Voices by Xin Ran. A harrowing read, but essential. I will happily lend you this book (if I know you) as I think everyone should read it, even if you have no connection with China whatsoever. She apparently lectures at SOAS, maybe I'll go and seek her out one day.
Unforgettable Places to See Before You Die. Perhaps the only slightly pointless purchase but nice book for dreaming when the weather's foul outside.

That's all (oh is that all?). I am still waiting for my thehut.com parcel which was supposed to come aeons ago which has some delicious housewife books in it, but I won't bore you any more.

if you're going to get wet...

2005-01-18T01:57:00.000+02:00

you may as well go swimming. As Fudgebumpkin is fond of reminding us. The origin (as we know it) of this ingenious phrase is Nigella Lawson's 'Feast'. Which reminds me, I'm waiting for my splatcooking.com parcel! Gosh I don't know how I'm getting any revision done amongst all this excitement. Just bought three revision textbooks and am feeling very worthy, although the actual act of opening the textbooks and studying would be a far superior accomplishment.

eh up! (Mancunian pride)

2005-01-18T00:18:00.000+02:00

My sisters have gone quite mad. They have both assumed a thick, deep, Yorkshire-cum-Lancashire accent which they fondly believe makes them sound like true Mancs. I don't think I've ever heard a Mancunian say 'eh up' for one thing. This is practice for when Mr C returns from his travels, as he seems to think I have a strong accent (especially when I'm tired) - they want to show him the real deal.

They have also been watching too many environmental documentaries, predicting the disappearance of Bangladesh in its entirety by 2025 (disturbing) as sea levels rise, as well as an end to commercial flights and travel as we know it. The house is freezing and cloaked in darkness as we strive to do our bit for the environment. I have also been told I'm not allowed to learn to drive, but Mr C has overruled :)

Speaking of driving, I've just resumed driving for the...4th time, I think . My first lot of lessons were taken as a fresh-faced, keen 17 year old. My instructor was ok but a bump in the road would provoke a terrifying outburst like, 'Will you WATCH what you're doing to my car!'...she left suddenly, and soon after I saw her in the local newspaper, as her husband had tried to kill her after she started an affair with another instructor. A-levels intervened, the second instructor couldn't do weekends, the third was just rubbish and now I'm on the fourth, who seems nice and more importantly, competent.

I am going to have a current obsessions section which I'll bring up to date every few days. At the moment they are as follows:
Current favourite websites: www.ebay.co.uk (of course) www.amazon.co.uk (have done with it for a while, having bought all my 'save for later' books with my newfound wealth) www.hqhair.com www.sephora.com for the gorgeous products especially Pout, Fresh Petit soaps, Lip Venom, Dessert Beauty..and in New York there is a THREE storey Sephora shop! www.makeupalley.com
Currently reading: Love in a Cold Climate by Nancy Mitford. Especially love the use of 'stchoopid' to describe Boy Dougdale.
Home Comforts - the Art and Science of Keeping House. Preparation
Current favourite buys: Botanics Love your Lips Lipgloss - as if i need telling.
Burt's Bees Almond Milk Hand Cream - smells exactly like delicious pink and yellow Battenburg cake! My new shiny white cake stand which is crying out for a good Nigella cake to sit on it.
Currently mourning: Loss of Lip Venom, very tragic as cannot justify buying another one. Hideous herpes virus scab on my face which I am hoping will disappear ASAP without scarring. Absence of Mr C (had to say that of course).

it had to happen one day...

2005-01-17T23:45:00.000+02:00

Dear folks,
I am starting this blog in a desperate attempt to avoid revision and outblog my old friend who goes by the name of Fudgebumpkin in these parts. Also, no-one wants to know about my shopping dilemmas and I need to vent. Also if someone could kindly comment and tell me that I waste too much time and money, and need to get on with my degree that would be useful.

Just realised today that I have to pass my exams (ok, a given) and organise getting a job in London more importantly, a complicated and delicate procedure for an ignorant Mancunian medic who got by for 3 and a half years without picking up a book outside of the exams-coming-up! red zone. ER is quite a useful revision tool, I tell myself. For example, in the last episode I learned about what to do when a marine biologist is bitten by a shark. I'll see if i can work that in during an interview.

Hajj begins tomorrow, so Mr C is off to Mina tonight. Apparently although everyone wears two white sheets and women wear simple clothes as well, everyone has colour coded wristbands to identify which country they're from, and some tour groups have hijabs with the name of the group printed on to identify them! Pilgrim chic. Hope it goes well and that Allah blesses the pilgrims this year and accepts their pilgrimage.