and a small furry guinea pig shows some interest…

(The flash give the false impression of two shades of yellow on the nearby blooms) 

My late Dad came over all Tory in the late 60s, after Harold Wilson was elected in 1964 and the Labour Party caused all sorts of subsequent mayhem. He explained to me that Socialism was like a ratchet spanner, ever tightening its grip and incapable of slackening back. (It took a fierce woman with a handbag to click that little pawl and slacken the bolt slightly).

Now the Government hates not getting its own way and is something of an Ocean Liner steaming ahead, taking a long time to change course. (It is reputed not to have a reverse gear…) Why else does it persist with schemes proven to have no value whatsoever & indeed much worse unintended consequences like the Home Information Packs debacle?

Yesterday, a story appeared on Times Online, based on a leaked memo. Rather than force the cards onto an unwilling public, the intention is to ratchet us to have them through coercion, whilst appearing to be notionally voluntary.

“Various forms of coercion, such as designation of the application process for identity documents issued by UK ministers (eg, passports) are an option to stimulate applications in a manageable way.

There are advantages to designation of documents associated with particular target groups, eg, young people who may be applying for their first driving licence.”

“universal compulsion should not be used unless absolutely necessary”.

The bastards!

Anyway, thanks to the NO2ID campaign, I have got hold of one of the Home Office Memos, which they have annotated. Myself and several other bloggers are hosting this document as NO2ID have concerns that they may well be enjoined by our authoritarian control-freak Government.

You can read the document here (1.2 Meg pdf file).

Leaked document
National Identity Scheme
Options analysis outcome

This delightful Ealing-style comedy was released in 1957 and tells the story of a couple who inherit a flea-pit Cinema. It stars Margaret Rutherford as a ferocious ticket lady Mrs. Fazakerley and Peter Sellers as a lush projectionist Mr. Quill.

This extract shows a substantial set-piece of the film, namely the first re-opening performance of the Bijou. I’m actually re-watching it as I type and it is full of laugh out loud moments. It also has a moment of pathos- every now and then the staff show old silent films to themselves and Mrs. Fazakerley accompanies them on the Piano.

(It is available on a very good quality DVD, but sadly no extras).

I have been taken to hospital three times for X-Rays. (Five if you count a walk-in when in America and subsequent UK care, but I’ll leave that out).

The first time I was hit by a car when I was about eight or nine. I don’t remember very much about it, other than using tent poles as makeshift crutches when I went back to school as it eased the pain. The hospital was a blur- I remember it being full of rather sinister bulbous curved black or cream enamelled machines, as were dentists at the time.

My second trip was when I was about fourteen and I managed to get my right foot run over by a bus. It was on Northumberland Street (the busiest street in Newcastle) but as the bus was cornering at the time the pressure on my foot was reduced somewhat. I went crashing backwards, I couldn’t stand up and my shoe was ruined. When the ambulance driver arrived, he looked at me lying on the pavement and said:

“Thank Christ for that, we’d been told that a young lad was trapped under a bus”.

I had a trip to the RVI and stopped on the way in to the building for what felt like ages whilst the A&E clerical dragon interrogated me. I then went to casualty, where they peeled off my trashed shoe & blood soaked sock, examining the damage. They reckoned that I probably only had bruising, but an X-Ray would confirm it.

The porter then trundled me off to X-Ray (following the yellow lines on the floor) where I waited my turn. Radiography was fairly simplistic in those days- they slipped a piece of film into a cassette, stuck it under or behind your injury on the apparatus (often called a Bucky holder, although the term “Bucky” is applied to various bits of gear, including the room itself), maybe slapped a few lead sheets on you, wiggled the Doctor Evil Death Ray contraption then ran away behind screens. There were were a few loud buzzes and then back they came.

X-Rays are a form of electromagnetic radiation, the same as light, heat and radio waves. They have the properties of being able to penetrate most things and it takes a very dense material like lead to stop it. They are just up the spectrum from Ultra-Violet light but not visible to the human eye. They are also rather bad for you as they can cause tissue damage in a similar way to radiation exposure. They are comparatively easy to make- any thermionic valve (or vacuum tube for ‘merkins) can do so with high enough voltage applied. Actual X-Ray tubes are complex, expensive and inefficient. The purpose of all the gubbins is to focus the X-Rays onto the cassette evenly the same way as an optical projector does.

After having my foot X-Rayed, I then sat outside again, getting more and more angry with my foot throbbing something rotten. It takes time to develop X-Ray film, it takes time to hand it to me in a big envelope and it takes time for the Porter to show up again.

“You sound a big grumpy, bonny lad, that’ll be the shock kickin’ in”.

He was right, it was.

My third time was after my recent fracture. The ambulance lowered my trolley straight down a ramp contraption and through the doors of the A&E straight to the emergency room. There was a momentary pause here, mitigated by the Paramedic having filled in several forms with me on the journey. I was then taken into the resuscitation area. This had three or four trolleys, lots of extra lighting and numerous medical gadgets covering the walls. It looked very clean, smart, modern and fit for purpose, but after all, this was the room where life or death decisions happened. I was met by the trauma team (there seemed to be about eight of them) who busied themselves attending to me, fitting a Cannula in the crook of my right arm, fitting a drip, connecting electrodes to the machine that goes ping, cutting off my trousers and examining the wound. I was given Morphine and also Gas & Air to distract me. An overhead X-Ray machine was stored in the corner and it looked a much tidier device than the 50s sci-fi B-Movie contraptions of my childhood. This looked right for the job, stylish, functional, a pleasant cream colour on the powder coating and not too intimidating. One of the staff tracked the unit across, pulled it down on delicately balanced gimbals, placed the cassette under my leg, twiddled a few controls and then said in a loud voice “X Rays”, at which time the team disappeared into the mist as if they were giving out free fivers in the lobby.

The lead doctor was happy to chat with me whilst working. He advised me that my Greek God of Dreams Class A drug levels were quite expensive on the street for God’s own medicine. Another Doctor (who was a Mister from his badge) helicoptered in and surveyed what was going on with a critical eye. On my asking the original Doctor if being a Mister made him important, I was given a potted history on the differences between Doctors, Misters, Surgeons, Registrars, Consultants etc. and how it varied depending on specialisation and qualification - ending with a twinkle and “so he thinks he is…”

By this time the X-Rays had come back, so they had a look. The Tibia was sheared and somewhat shattered. The Fibula was also broken, but they weren’t overly bothered about that. They said I’d be admitted and be sent for surgery later, likely to be a pinning. In the meantime, they’d align my leg and set it in a temporary cast.

They then advised me that this would be a bit uncomfortable so that I should enjoy the Entonox. After a bit of stretching, pulling and swearing (by them, not me) there was a loud Twang noise from inside my leg. After a short pause, I became aware of being looked at by several pairs of eyes and Doc asked me if I had heard that. After a short pause back, I said “heard what?”and they all laughed! Sometimes it is best to keep a sense of humour…

They took another couple of X-Rays, then plastered me up and I was sent off to the Ward.

I was X-Rayed again after my surgery in Theatre using a portable unit, but I was unconscious at the time. (The Physios were not able to trackdown these X-Rays on my dischatge day).

Last Friday, I returned to the Hospital for an Out-Patients appointment. Here I was X-Rayed in the Emergency X-Ray Suite. They had three X-Ray rooms and I chatted to the Radiologist about how the modern system worked. They had a Philips Digital Diagnost system and it no longer uses film- the cassette that gets put under the injury is actually a digital imaging unit, a “Bucky unit detector”. It then gets plugged into a Computed Radiography Reader, a sort of docking station. (I was interested to read on the Philips website that it is 3000 x 3000 pixels with 14 bit resolution. We looked at the images on a large flat screen and then she sent it to the acetate printer.

Whilst I was waiting for the Porter, I looked at the barcodes on my X-Ray envelope. This gave an interesting audit trail of my events- 1st X-Ray 5:23pm, second X-Ray 5:38pm, third on Saturday morning at 9:10 (suggesting about an hour for my surgery) then the final set just then.

Back in the clinic, the Doctor advised me that the Theatre set were on the computer, had not been printed out and therefore effectively no longer available to the staff as no-one quite knew how to work the new system, gesturing towards a switched off PC Monitor. From the Trust website:

The directorate will soon finalise the installation of a multi-million pound Picture Archiving and Communication System (PACS), commonly called a digital x-ray system. No longer will x-rays be lost and should you be referred to another hospital we will be able to send them your digital x-rays.

Yea, right, one day…

These X-Rays aren’t mine (you can’t get a copy for your Blog, unlike Foetus Ultrasound, I did ask!) but the repair is similar.

I’ve just noticed that I’ve been tagged by Jeremy Jacobs for fifty things I’d like to before I peg it.

Blimey, fifty things. Here we go, stream of consciousness, things I’d like to see and do;

(In no particular order, some fanciful or unlikely, I’ve hyperlinked some of the more obscure ones)

1. See the Pyramids
2. Go on a zero gravity flight
3. Visit the Paramount Theatre, Denver
4. See the Grand Canyon
5. Go up “Big Ben” again (with David)
6. Start up a stand-up comedy club
7. See Andrew Gold live
8. Learn to swim
9. Feature in a Dilbert Cartoon
10. Go for a Pint with David on his 18th Birthday
11. Visit Tokyo Disneyland
12. See the Northern Lights
13. Go to the top roof of the Sydney Opera House
14. Learn to play the Electric Piano
15. Do more lighting design
16. See the Royal Festival Hall
17. Visit the Devil’s Causeway
18. Go on a sub-orbital space flight
19. See the Taj Mahal
20. See La Scala, Milan
21. Eat at “The Ivy”
22. Interview Helen Fielding on Morley Radio
23. Visit Morley Town Hall Clock Tower
24. Visit the “Great White North” in the Summer
25. Go to Vancouver
26. Go to Rome
27. See the Sistine Chapel
28. Go up the Leaning Tower of Pisa
29. Visit the Noah’s Ark at Kennywood
30. See Victoria Falls
31. See Niagara Falls again
32. Visit a smelting Works
33. Visit the Titanic in a Mini-Sub
34. Visit Sri Lanka (& possibly meet Arthur C. Clarke)
35. Be on a comedy writing team
36. Restore the Newcastle Paramount
37. Go to the moon and back
38. Read all of the works of Robert A. Heinlein
39. Go on a Disney cruise
40. See some of the Great Wall of China
41. See Denise Marsa live
42. Visit Mount Fuji
43. See the Siberian Salt Mines
44. Go to Auschwitz
45. Visit Berlin
46. Dance on my hat in Mexico
47. See the statues on Easter Island
48. Re-visit Berne
49. Bungee off the Eiffel Tower
50. Have a few beers with Mervyn Stokes

Phew!

I won’t tag anyone, but feel free to pick it up…