New Year Memories

New Year's Eve is often a time of reflection. Looking back on the previous twelve months and also looking forward to the next calender year. For me though, my thoughts always take me back further than the immediate past. New Year's Eve is a significant date to me and I always think of one certain person on this date.

Nickie at Typecast spent Boxing Day reminiscing about 1985. I loved reading her tweets as she watched the Christmas Top of the Pops from that year. Her teenage tweets brought back many happy memories. But the last day of that year was one I'll never forget.

That Sinking Feeling

In 1996 my friend Dave had two kayaks and we decided to take them to Lake Windermere along with our then girlfriends. We had oars but that was it for equipment. No splash decks to keep the water from getting into the kayaks and no lifejackets or helmets.

It was a beautiful summers day and Ambleside was swarming with visitors and many of them viewed the ensuing events with a mixture of humour, fascination horror and relief.

Diary of an Expectant Father (Part Three)

Well today is the most appropriate day to post the final part of this short series. It is 7 years ago that I was no longer an expectant father and I became a dad.

As in Part One and Part Two things didn't go exactly as planned (but then I suppose they never do).

Mrs S had been regularly attending the clinic during the third trimester because she was suffering from high blood pressure. From about 32 weeks they were starting to talk about a C-Section if the blood pressure problem got too much, but they wanted to leave it as long as they possibly could to make the decision.

Pricked by Guilt

I have an incredible fear of needles. If you need me to emphasise just how bad my fear of needles is then can I point you to a previous posting here. In fact when we moved into our current house and we signed up with our new doctors, they asked me to come in for a check up. No problem I thought, a bit overweight (OK maybe a bit more than that), but nothing serious.

Of course, I didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition (No one expects the Spanish Inquisition) and I certainly didn't expect to have tiny skin punctures as part of the process. So when the nurse asked me to give her a blood sample, she could see from the lack of any in my face that this was going to be a tall order.

After 20 minutes of enough prodding and stabbing to be up on an ABH charge, the nurse finally gave in and the doctor had to come and do the business (he would definitely make a good darts player. His accuracy was unerring).

So then we had children. and they don't warn you that within a week they will be shooting your child's heel with a rapier like implement just to get a splot (it's a real word. I read it in The Lancet) of blood to test.

Then for the best part of five years they bring them in again to pump their little bodies full of disease, just to teach their immune system what a bad guy looks like (I can't see the justice Secretary introducing a similar scheme for little old ladies being introduced to muggers just so they know how to fend them off when they attack).

Despite my squeamishness, I haven't missed one of the visits to the injection section. That was until today. I am on a week long training course and couldn't miss today's as it was the most intense day of the week. And do you know, today was the first time that I felt physically sick thinking about my miniest me being speared by some locum or trainee nurse. All the other times I was there to apologise and comfort them. Today I was  20 miles away and I felt like I had deserted him. And that was worse than being there and seeing the needle go in.

I think a trip to Llangollen Steam railway at the weekend might just assuage my guilt. A visit to see Thomas the Tank Engine is bound to put me back in his good books. At least in my head.

Diary of an Expectant Father (Part Two)

In the second of a short series of stories of the nine months before my eldest was born, let me tell you about our second ante natal class. (I told you it was a short series).

Diary of an Expectant Father (Part One)

Over seven years ago, I had one of those days, actually one of those evenings, that you'll never forget. It was a February evening and I had decided to leave work slightly early for a reason I can't remember. I had a Daewoo car back then. The worst car I have ever had, and I had a Metro that decided to stall whenever it could sense that it would put me in immediate danger.