Happy Christmas

While browsing a local bookshop today, I discovered a picture of the church I attend in Surbiton from October of 1940… and I managed to find on line versions (above).  Not to worry, they rebulit.  This is what it looks like now (below).

Photo Credits:

The Blitz and Bomb Damage

GeoLocation

Do Season

'Do' is the English word for what Americans would call a party or social gathering.  This time of year is do season.  I have been to three in the past five days.  It would be quite easy to up the December do count with very little effort.  I am skipping the hospital-wide Christmas do, as well as the many ward-based dos.

The most atypical of the season was the OT department do at The Half Moon in Putney.  One of my work colleagues is a member of a parody girls band called Hot Skank.  They were amazing.  It is made up of former staff from The Half Moon, a gig pub where some pretty famous British folk / rock / blues artists got their starts in the 60s 70s and 80s.  It was supposedly in danger of being torn down several years ago.  I am suspicious of how the existence of a petition suddenly turns an unprofitable pub into a profitable one, but I am happy to live with the delusion that a small group of well meaning people can affect a positive change.

Photo Credit

Musicborn

Ladies and Gentlemen...

... your attention, please.
May I introduce to you:
Dr. My Beloved Wife

Imagine there's no doggy bags; I wonder if you can…

This is not the case of American versus English language, like 'take out' and 'take away' or 'eggplant' and 'aubergine'.  There is no cute English idiom for it: its not a 'rummy sack' or a 'Cockney satchel'.  As far as I can tell, 'Doggy bags' just do not exist in England.  In case I have an English reader, I might have to explain that a 'doggy bag' is container that a restaurant in America gives where you put the rest of your meal that you couldn't finish because the portion size was so ridiculous that the only way you could possibly finish it is to take it away with you afterward and have the rest later, or tomorrow,… or presumably give it to a dog.  I cannot make my mind up whether the absence of the doggy back is an improvement or not.  We have not dined at too many restaurants in England.  I must admit that I do enjoy the shock and awe at Antonio's in New Bedford as the single portion of Carne de Porco à Alentejana, big enough to feed a small family, arrives at the table.  Even though I know it's coming, it amazes me every time.  My advice to the English reader on holiday in America: the proper response to the offer of a doggy bag is "no, thank you, I am on vacation".  This response will not stop the quizzical looks or the many suggestions on how you could still benefit from taking the rest of your meal with you.  Other than ordering a half portion, this is the best I can offer.

Photo Credits

Twenty Flight Rock

American Bedu

Thanksgiving 2012

Like most people in Britain, I spent most of my day unaware of Thanksgiving Day, one of my favourite days happening over the other side of the sea.  It was an unusual day on many counts.  The most unexpected event was the crowd of 80 or so people gathered at the roundabout just outside the railway station in the centre of town.  I was just trying to remember to stop at the grocers on the way home when I ran into them.  I was nearly through it when they started counting down: 10-9-8…  I emerged from the crowd just in time to catch the lighting of the Christmas tree in the centre of the roundabout.  I chuckled to myself as I walked into the grocers as I became aware that the town tree was lit in the middle of Thanksgiving day.

Another unusual event was steak night at the pub.  It happens every Thursday, and we have been before, so it was not unusual in its existence or our appearance.  The 'Thanksgiving Special' on the menu and the presence of a little Thanksgiving-do at the centre of the pub replete with mini American flags and party horns was, however, atypical.  The musical selections was the essence of the British stereotypical concept of American music: Vegas Elvis, truncated Don McClean, 80's Bruce Springsteen, Huey Lewis, Frank Sinatra, and late 80's Heart.  Mmmm.  My beloved pointed out that nearly every time we have come to that pub, around half a dozen times or so, we have encountered Americans there.  I am still resistant to the idea that Americans would wave flags and blow part horns on Thanksgiving Day.  But this was the same day that my wife had to point out to me that term 'fish fingers' was English, not American.  So I am clearly no longer able to distinguish betwixt the twain. The question remains: why so many Yanks in Surbiton?

0870 and 0845

Just like in the US, the UK has 800 numbers, which are free, and 900 numbers for 'premium services'.  But there is this in-between thing here that is the worst of both.  Maybe we have this in the US too but I am not aware of it.  Instead of 800 numbers, almost all legitimate companies, like banks, cable companies, gas companies, and grocers, use 870 (national) and 845 (regional) numbers instead.  But it is not free; you are paying the company for the privilege of calling them.  It connects to a regular phone number but it charges you a set fee, between 10 and 14p per minute.  The standard practice is to hide the local number and to only offer the 870 or 845 number. So, for example, if you call the phone company to remove an erroneous charge from your bill, you are paying the phone company to correct their own error.  However, someone has created a website, saynoto0870, that basically outs the local number.  Anyone who finds the actual local number can post it.  And then if anyone tries a posted number and it works, they can confirm that it worked and the date of success is posted.  It is a fantastic.

Photo Credit

10 Fun Facts from Telephone History

walks like a squirrel

I seem to be having repeat encounters with squirrels in Vauxhall, Putney, and Surbiton that go something like this.  I am walking somewhere at my normal speed and I see a squirrel up ahead digging in the earth.  First he digs in one spot and then another, kind of flitting about.  He is very busy.  I continue walking along  normally, but I am getting closer because my path is taking me towards the squirrel.  The squirrel carries on.  I get closer still.  He is still busy digging.   Finally, I am right up next to him, and he suddenly looks up.  Then with a convulsive jerk that looks like a heart attack, the squirrel bolts off in some direction at full speed for a tenth of a second, stops, his head shoots straight upward, he looks at me, convulses again, picks a new direction, bolts for a tenth of a second, shoots head upward, repeat.  And I am not talking about a few random occurrences.  This happened every time I saw one for a two week run.  They must hear me coming... so the only possible explanation is I must walk like an English squirrel.  (That squirrel in the photo is Canadian.)

Photo Credit : Telegraph

All my avocados in one basket?

Unrefrigerated avocados in the US                             Refrigerated avocados in the UK

After five years, I still have not adjusted to the refrigerated stones that are sold here as avocados. Maybe we are so far north that they have to be picked so early that avocados have no chance of getting to its yielding, easily-bruised ripeness and leaving them out for any time in this comparatively sunless clime would turn them instantly into lumps of mold and mildew.  Maybe my memory is playing tricks on me, but I am under the delusion that the avocados I bought in the US were at ambient temperatures throughout their journey including their pause on the grocer's shelves.  

Refrigerated eggs in the US                                 Unrefrigerated eggs in the UK

Eggs, on the other hand, I am certain I remember accurately.  Those were always refrigerated in the US, even at the grocers.  They were in the diary section because apparently, eggs in the US come from cows.  But here, they are in the aisles at stored at room temperature.  Judging by the egg shaped holders on the refrigerator doors, I suspect I am expected to refrigerate them once I get them home.  The holes are certainly too small for avocados. 

Photo Credits

Unrefrigerated avocados in the US: Wikipedia emphasis added

Refrigerated avocados in the UK: Me

Refrigerated egg in the US: Slash/Food

Unrefrigerated eggs in the UK: British.com

The Cow That Laid and Egg: Amazon

Polls

Polls cannot predict elections.  Yet so-called news outlets report them as if they contain meaningful information.  Polls are no more newsworthy than having live reports from the scene of some past or future event where 'reporters' have to fill air time with empty speculation because there is actually nothing new to report.  For some reason, we get sucked in by this sleight of hand which is devoid of journalistic content.  Even though I immediately switch the feed when a bunch of reporters gather at such an event pretending they are reporting something, polls get me every time.  I know they aren't worth anything, yet I can't look away from the smoke and mirrors.

Photo Credits:
The Candidates: USA Today
Sleight of Hand: brotherpeacemaker blog

A tale of two kidneys

Many of you know that I passed a kidney stone a while back, a painful but nonlife-threatening event.  I was seen in the A&E (ER) the same night and discharged home for an outpatient followup the next day.  Imaging revealed a blockage and I was immediately admitted for surgery.  More detailed imaging in preparation for surgery revealed that a noninvasive treatment would likely solve the problem, and it did: that night.  I was seen about a month later for a follow up appointment, which revealed that the remaining stones in my kidney are too small to treat with the shock wave procedure.  So they want to monitor me with follow up appointments every six months.  There were no attempts to bill me for any services even though I used the A&E (ER) for nonemergency treatment.  There were no copays or premiums and no harassing from private insurers.  I am continuing to receive followup care.  All of the above services are funded by a tax.  For the both of us, that tax currently comes to about £140 per month.

The prequel to this story was that one day while I was at OT school I urinated blood.  I was scared and I went to the ER (A&E).  I was also discharged home for an outpatient followup.  That followup was about a month later.  I was diagnosed with kidney stones but they were too small to treat.  Case closed: no follow up.  There were letters from my private insurer related to the appropriate use of emergency services.  At the time, I was paying a monthly COBRA premium of $1200 per month to cover my wife and I, and there was $30 in copays for the two visits.  There was only the one followup visit.

Admittedly, putting these two events side by side is unfair.  The timing of these two events has my family in decided different financial situations.  We could easily afford that COBRA payment at the time, so it was not the financial strain that it appears.  Also, the recent event included passing a stone, and the prequel did not.  My only experience with kidney stones is personal, but I suspect that many stones are too small to treat. With no history of passing stones, it might be reasonable to just leave it be.  I was certainly happy with the care in both countries.  While I suspect that I would not be getting followup visits every six months in the US even after passing a stone, I am willing to consider the care in these two instances as roughly equivalent.  I do not know which country's healthcare provision costs more.  I suppose I could get all riled up about having to pay an additional tax for healthcare, but my wallet sees no benefit when eliminating that tax requires me to purchase more expensive private insurance, which by the way is available here (complete with premiums and copays that allow access to private hospitals) despite statements by some to the contrary.  I can report that I am relieved to have a baseline of coverage no matter what.  Both my wife and I have gambled with our healthcare coverage in the US before.  It is a scary prospect, and I am not looking forward to having to do it again on our return.

The elephant in the room is that healthcare is a costly and limited resource.  One view is to spread that limited resource along a baseline of minimum coverage that all citizens get.  Another is to restrict that resource to a portion of the nation's citizens so that the minimum  coverage is higher for those who have access.  Of those two lousy options, I prefer the first because I think it is wrong for people like me, who are relatively well off, to get better healthcare by denying it to the less fortunate.  I find it disturbing and perplexing that such a view inspires intense vitriol and hatred.

Photo Credits:

Coconut-sized Kidney Stone
Banksy's Elephant in the Room

Driving License

My new driving license arrived by post last week.  You may notice on the reverse (below) that it expires in 2034.  Americans reading this might be as surprised as I was because in my home state, drivers licenses expire every four years.  I suppose there is some clever reason to having a more frequent renewal beyond getting to charge a fee.  If there is, I have no idea what it is.  In the interest of full disclosure though, I do have to update the photo on the UK license in 2021.  I wonder if there is a charge for that?  Even if there is, between now and then I will have paid two renewal fees and be half way towards paying another on my US license.

Tower of London

I was not at all surprised to learn that many Londoners have never visited the Tower of London, a restored medieval / early-modern castle and top tourist destination.  Having grown up in New Bedford, I can attest that the Whaling Museum shares a similar fate.

However, I was surprised by a small but significant portion of London denizens who regularly celebrate their birthdays at the Tower.  Last weekend, two friends of mine celebrated their coincidental birthdays there.  An early string of conversation amongst the attendees included accounts of recent birthdays celebrated at this historical landmark.  

Having visited as a tourist, I can report a decidedly different attitude taken by Londoners.  Most memorable was the homemade raspberry and lemon cake, which was happily presented to and easily passed through security, that we consumed picnic style in the moat.  And then there was the jovial attitude toward their own history.  It was lots of fun.  I wonder what would happen if a similar group tried to consume a homemade cake just beside the half-scale vessel at the whaling museum.

Photo Credits

Tower of London: All About London

Whaling Museum: VisitingNewEngland.com

So, things are a bit busy...

...because my life is a deluge of good fortune.  My beloved's PhD is due on Friday.  But it has to be submitted as a leather-bound book, making it effectively due on Monday.  Yes, that's right, it is a requirement that it be leather bound.   So September has been awash with proofreading…  lots of proofreading.  Even I have joined the ranks.  

I am attending / presenting at a conference in Leicester on Monday and Tuesday.  My driving test is on Thursday, and I missed my last lesson because my instructor was unwell.  We also are in the midst of renewing our lease.  Yikes!

Photo credits

   Cup runneth over: aravis121 on flickr

   Full plate: Henry VIII on fanpop

Lolo

Lolo is a work colleague.  He was a torchbearer for the Paralympic games.  As you can see from the picture, he treated us with the opportunity to get a picture with him in his torchbearing gear. He was given the honour of  carrying a torch because of all the fundraising he has done for our employer, Royal Hospital for Neuro-disability, which is a national medical charity.  He raises money for the hospital by running the London Marathon.  My US followers might be unaware that the London Marathon is actually the world's largest fundraising event (£450 since 1891).  If you happened to see Run Fatboy Run with Simon Pegg and Hank Azaria, the marathon depicted in the film gives you a bit of an idea of the atmosphere of the London Marathon.  Anyway, Lolo has run many many marathons and raised much much money doing so, all for RHN.  It is an honour to work with him, and it was an honour to get my picture taken with him.  He even let me touch his torch.

Paralympics

Earlier in the week, my beloved and I went to the Paralympics.  The athletics (track and field) appeared sold out: not an empty seat in sight.  One of the coolest things was the noise from the crowd doing laps around the stadium along with Dean Miller from Team GB as he ran the 1500m - T37.  Earlier, Mickey Bushell won gold for Team GB in the 100m - T53, which was great because the stadium erupted.  Later in the evening, we were also treated to Raymond Martin's US gold in the 400m - T52.  The only wish unfulfilled was a Portugal gold as well.  

In fact, no Portuguese athletes competed in the stadium that evening, which would have been a huge disappointment had I not accidentally happened upon a group of them whilst wondering through Olympic Park.  The meeting was remarkably similar to the time I met Dave Sharp in a music festival crowd in the 80s.  The Alarm had finish their set an hour earlier. I was enjoying another, I looked up and there was Dave Sharp.  My hand immediately darted into the air and shouted, 'Dave!'  As he looked to me, his expression changed from 'Oh, who's that?' to 'Oh my god, how do I make an inconspicuous exit'.  He gave a quick wave and continued his journey.  The only differences were: the darting hand became a pumped fist, 'Dave!' became 'Portugal!', and one person giving me that look became six.  

Apparently, when meeting heroes for the first time, I am cursed with an involuntary upward thrusting of my right arm that limits any utterance to a single word.  The only consolation is that 30 years later, I actually managed to meet Dave Sharp again.  Thankfully, I managed to keep my right arm pointed earthward whilst stringing together a few sentences.  Judging by the look on his face, the sentences might have actually been coherent.  Apparently, the classic single-utterance right-arm thrust is not the best conversation starter.  But I am holding onto the hope of running into one of the athletes 30 years from now so that I can redeem myself.

Stoned!

The longest day in my life so far:  17 August 2012.  It started at around 2am.  A pain deep in my abdomen just left of my spine.  It was The Pain That Dare Not Speak Its Name.  It was excruciating, agonizing, stabbing, throbbing, piercing, radiating, aching, dull, and severe all at the same time.  And it was relentless.  I could not stop moving as I desperately searched for some body position that would just give me a nanosecond of relief.  I never found one.  There is no reason for anything to hurt this much.  I would have taken it seriously even if it was only half as intense.  If intense pain were not enough, intense pain induces vomiting. 

This might be a good time to skip ahead to the best new experience of 17 August 2012: suppositories.  After getting the pain under control, I was discharged to await further testing.  Skipping ahead a bit more to the saintly black cab driver that brought me to my outpatient appointment (remember what pain induces?) and an angelic triage nurse that brought me straight to A&E (ER) from the outpatient unit.  She made sure that a doctor came to me immediately.  The scan showed a kidney stone obstructing my ureter, and I was admitted to a surgical ward with amazing staff.  Upon further review, the urology consultant recommended a muscle relaxer as the stone was nearly at the end of its journey.  Once it drops into the bladder, it is no longer a problem because the urethra is much larger in diameter than the ureter.  We got home at 9 pm.  The stone passed sometime in the night as I woke up completely normal… well… normal for me anyway.  I have only three things to say about passing a kidney stone: ouch, i hope it never happens again, and my wife is amazing.  

Photo Credit: Radiological Workstation UX

P.S. I forgot to mention that the urology consultant told me I have to pee into all of my wife's tea strainers.  Believe me, I don't want to... but it's doctors orders

Taekwondo

I usually do not pay much attention to the Olympics, but this year it descended upon London and I thought I had better take advantage.  We went to Taekwondo at the ExCel Centre.  It was very entertaining.  We saw the repechage for the Bronze medals as well as the Gold Medal match for the flyweight women and men.  As a warm up to the repechage and the gold medal matches the World Taekwondo Federation demonstration team did some pretty amazing feats.  

Going to the Olympics for me is likely to be a once-in-a-lifetime event but I think what I will remember most about these Olympics is the fantastic television coverage.  The BBC put all of their feeds onto 24 channels accessible by the red button.  It's just amazing.  I can watch any sport… and the added bonus of it being a feed was that it is often without commentary and it stays on the event even in between the action.  So we get to watch the crack team changing the jumping course in equestrian or deploying the hurdles onto the track.  It's like watching pit crews.  And we also get to watch the athletes preparing and interacting with each other.  It gives you this feeling of being there that the typical segmented coverage does not...  really, really nice.  The other thing I love about watching the Olympics here is that the commentators get just as excited when a British athlete does well but doesn't medal as they do when one does medal.  It is delightfully refreshing.  

Cycling Road Race

Last weekend was the Olympic cycling road race, which came pretty close to our flat.  The men's race was on Saturday.  The race took more than 5 hours, so we watched a good bit of it on television before we walked 45 minutes over to Thames Ditton.  On the television coverage, it was very easy to find riders from the different teams.

The walk was pleasant and a local was kind enough to tell us about a spot to watch that was not too crowded.  While waiting the 20 minutes for the race to arrive, we chatted with some very friendly people and were even offered canapes.  And then in a flash of about two or three seconds, the lead group appeared and disappeared.  I only saw a Spanish rider near the front because the uniform was so distinctive.  Then a few minutes later in a much longer flash of maybe five seconds the peloton flashed past. I managed to see three Team GB riders because they were together and that was about it.  I didn't manage to spot any of the Portuguese or American riders.  It just went by too fast.  After that, we stopped at the George and Dragon on the way back to watch the end of the race.

I am glad I had the experience of seeing an Olympic event… especially for free.  (As you know, I am a lover of all things free.)  And I would never had experienced the hospitality of Thames Ditton if we hadn't gone.  But if the aim is to see anything in a cycling road race, TV coverage is probably the way to go.

Can't Hold a Candle to Carrying a Torch

Earlier in the week, the Olympic torch relay went within a 100 metres of our flat.  The first picture shows the turn into our road, except for all the people blocking it to watch the torch.  I had this idea in my head that the torch relay was one continuous route.  It isn't like I was expecting them to run in the middle of the night.  But I did think that they would start off in the morning from where they stopped the previous night.  But in preparing to watch the torch go by, I learned that the flame travels at night by van to a new starting point every day.  So the running relay is not continuous: they are little unconnected segments.  I liked it better when I thought it was an uninterrupted continuous route.  

Whilst waiting for the flame to arrive, at first, a police motorbike occasionally rode by.  Then there were a few with their lights on.  Then a series of vehicles.  One with a music and dancers on it.  Then a few people waving flags.  Then nothing.  I was beginning to think I missed it.  

But after a huge gap, more police and more albeit less conspicuous vehicles came by.  After another long gap, four police motorbikes stopped nearly in  front of me.  Two minutes later, a tall slender blonde man dressed all in white jogged slowly by with the torch ablaze.  Then he was gone.   

Moth Cottage

Our current flat is only slightly smaller than our previous one.  It has a bedroom with a strange little alcove where all the windows are.  When standing in it, it feels like a drive up window… would you like fries with that?  But the light it provides is quite nice.  The boiler cupboard is in here too.  It has slatted removable wooden shelves that run all the way up to the ceiling that to me looks like a colossal waste of space.  However, we learned from Dan, the boiler repair man that it is an airing cupboard.  Who knew!

We have divided the living room into three zones:  lounge, office, and dining.  There is a little foyer… and a kitchen featuring a hob, oven, washer, dryer and a fridge/freezer.  Of course, there is a toilet, which by marital stipulation is inside the flat.

As for the moths, I am convinced that they arrived with the Ikea delivery.  Every week or so I capture another dozen for release into the green that is Surbiton:

Yes, this video is about Surbiton