Time management and the proverbial three busses

As many of you know, I have spent the last couple of months getting paid to do nothing more than roll into uni once a week, and write an essay. Of course, I didn't give the essay a second glance during that whole period, preferring to sit around on my lazy arse writing music and playing poker. It suddenly occurred to me towards the end of last week (my last week off before starting a full-time placement), that the essay has to be in very shortly after the Easter break.

Of course this wouldn't be a problem, if it weren't for the fact that next Thursday I am flying to Egypt for a fortnight, returning home just four days before the essay is due in. Now this wouldn't necessarily be a problem either, after all, four days is plenty of time to write an essay. However, the weekend following my return is already triple-booked with essentials, namely my football team's end of season meal, my Nephew's third birthday, and not to mention the return of Will Skinner to the UK after nearly two years in the wilderness (well, Sydney).

So, I am left in the ridiculous position where I am somehow going to have to write a completely uninspiring 3000 word essay in the next week before I go, at the same time as working full-time shifts. I'm actually going to have to work for my money! I'm sure many of you will be pleased to hear that the slightly smug grin that I've been unable to hide for the last couple of months has been well and truly wiped from my face. I'm sure it will return when I arrive in Cairo next week, or perhaps in June when I start my eight-week paid summer holiday. Mwaaa haaa.

On a more serious note, I have decided that the beard is going to have to go. Not because I'm concerned about my dive mask leaking in the Red Sea, nor has it become unbearably itchy. No, it's far more significant than that. Earlier this evening an incident occurred that I had always dreaded. I was walking into my middle room after dinner and glanced in the mirror, only to discover that a surprisingly large piece of lettuce, complete with dressing, was hanging from the side of my chin. I have put the razor on charge and will attack it in the morning...

Beards and football

Comments on the recent blog entry about my beard opened an interesting debate on which is the more boring subject matter: beards or football. Personally, I could talk about each of these topics for hours without getting even slightly bored. So that got me thinking, seeing as I haven't actually written anything about football yet on this blog, why not combine the two? What could possibly be more interesting than that?

Jonny pointed out that the 1980's Scottish international striker Steve Archibald had a very similar beard to mine, pictured here playing for Spurs. To be honest though, bearded footballers are few and far between. I'm pretty sure that I'm currently the only bearded footballer in the Bristol Churches league.


Thankfully, there are a few famous footballers who have defied convention and worn their beard with pride. The first I could think of was the rebelious Brazilian Socrates, who used to go out boozing between games and smoked cigarettes at half-time, yet he still managed to be part of a world-cup winning squad. A shining example to all young footballers, and what a beaut of a beard too, especially combined with the mullet.

Actually I stumbled across a picture of this guy, who I think plays for Russia (given that his name is Tristanivanov). His beard is really very similar to mine, and he has also gone for a kind of straggley mullet look...another beauty. I'm starting to think that maybe the mullet is the way forward for my change of image. They clearly combine with beards extremely well, and I'd imagine they're very useful for avoiding sunburnt necks.

Perhaps the most famous bearded footballer would have to be the late and great George Best...

But who could forget Alexi Lalas? He was the heart of the USA defence when they lost to Iran in the 1998 world cup. Mike Roberts recently commented that people with beards tend to look alike. Well is it just me, or does Lalas look like a ginger Billy Connolly? Another absolute beaut though - I wonder if he uses a special comb for that.

Unfortunately, modern premiership players' beards simply can't compare to the examples mentioned so far. Nowadays, beards have become more of a fashion statement for overpaid youngsters who are trying to follow in the footsteps of David Beckham by changing their image every week. Take for example the ex-Liverpool player Abel Xavier. Not only have I managed to find examples of his changing image, but also further weight to the argument that bearded people tend to look alike...

Tottenham and Egypt striker Mido made a grave mistake recently in the African cup of nations. I'm not talking about the time he had a very public tantrum on the pitch when he got substituted in the semi-final (only for his replacement to score the winning goal within two minutes of coming on). No that I can forgive him for, even sympathise. But why on Earth would anyone go from having such a nice distinguished looking beard (on the right), to this abomination...

What was he thinking?

My Middle Room - A Picture Story

There's not really much I can say about the middle room of my house, other than it's a medium to small square room in the middle of my house. But it's also a popular post-pub social club in the heart of Bedminster, scene of the now infamous presentation of Sam's cake, and lots of other equally comical evenings. So, I though for this entry I'd let the pictures do most of the talking.

It was the venue for the unofficial Bedminster poker championship...



Won eventually by the wookie



I'm not sure what Kim and I were laughing about here. It might have been the time that Sam managed to break one of our chairs by falling through it. Or perhaps it was the time that Sam managed to break one of our other chairs by falling backwards on it and ripping it into two pieces trying to pick himself up again by using the chair as a hoist, while he was still lying on it...



Of course it could have been one of the many times that H launched some fiendish attack on him. On this occasion she actually came surprisingly close to getting a 4-inch wide china flowerpot over his head.



Sometimes seats, (and decent cups) could be hard to come by...



Plenty of drinks have been spilt...



Hundreds of photographs taken...



And a fair amount of property damaged. On one occasion Chris managed to split the back of my bass-drum by falling into it...Twice!



But it's the more random things that the room will be remembered for, like the time Kim and Jonny tried to swap shoes (I have no idea why Jonny is wearing the Hope fc shirt by the way)



Or when we found a piece of ginger shaped like a donkey...



H recently commented that this room will be her lasting memory of Bedminster, so I thought I'd finish with a picture of her from fireworks night, since I managed to capture her looking surprisingly angelic. I knew there was something wrong with my camera...

My Beard

I have always thought that beards look ridiculous and could never understand why anyone would want to grow one. However, a couple of months ago I took advantage of a three-week break from work to let myself 'go natural' (as I called it at the time). Basically I didn't bother shaving.

I did it partly out of pure laziness, but also partly to see what would happen. I've never had very even stubble, and whenever I've let myself 'go natural' for more than a few days before I've ended up with thick clumps of hair either side of my chin, and nothing much anywhere else.

A couple of weeks into my experiment I was starting to look pretty ridiculous. My neck was covered in hair and the two mounds either side of my chin were getting pretty huge, but above my top lip there was little more than a thin layer of asbo bum fluff. I realised that I needed to make the decision to either shave it all off, or shave my neck and trim my chin mounds to give the rest of my beard a chance to catch up. Well, perhaps because I still had another week off work I decided to do the latter, and the very act made the whole thing official. No longer could I say that I was simply 'going natural'. There was no denying it. I was growing a beard.

I think the main reason I decided to keep going with it is that I had grown fond of stroking my chin. One of the few memories I have of my psychology degree is that in any textbook about any pioneer of psychology, there is always a picture of the said psychologist in the front of the book looking pensive, and they all had beards. I'm not saying that just by growing a beard I will follow in the footsteps of Sigmund Freud or William James, but perhaps I will develop an air of intelligence and maturity, which can't be a bad thing.

Anyway, I can't deny that I was slightly nervous about my first day back at work. As I arrived one of the patients saw me coming round the corner and instantly burst into hysterical laughter. Once she had finally caught her breath, still laughing she told me that she thought I was a giant ape coming to attack her, and then spent the rest of the day doing monkey impressions whenever she saw me. By the second time, the joke had really worn very thin, and I took little comfort in the fact that her ridiculing of me may at least have been therapeutic for her in some way. The staff weren't actually too bad, although I did hear the "let's have a whip-round and buy the man a razor" joke at least a couple of times.

The following Saturday my beard received it's first major endorsement when I went into Town for the first time since it's conception to see the Herbaliser. Firstly, I gained a lot of respect from some of my friends who had seen it for the first time and made no secret of the fact that they had beard-envy. Secondly, and perhaps more significantly, I pulled some young fitty in the club (when I say young, I did feel the need to request an 'age-check' from friends, but thankfully they all thought she looked about 20). Maybe she thought I had an air of intelligence and maturity...

The other positive thing I have found is that my beard is a great conversation starter. On the night of Jonny & H's leaving party it's pretty much all I chatted about all night. This was undoubtedly perpetuated by the fact that I kept bumping into people I hadn't seen for a while so they would always comment on it, but believe me chatting about beards seems to have a lot of mileage (as this epic blog entry clearly verifies). I had quite a few people owning up to having beard-envy (men mostly), just about everyone asking if it itches (which it doesn't), and others commenting that I looked a bit like Ewan McGregor as Obi Wan Kenobi, albeit a slightly less attractive version (they added). Others noticed that I had neatly shaved my cheeks that evening (a little too neatly), and so spent the whole evening shouting can I have a rewind? whenever they passed.

That's the other thing about having a beard...they're a lot higher maintenance than I had expected. They regularly need to be trimmed and groomed, especially when they grow as unevenly as mine. If I allowed mine to grow naturally I'd probably end up with one of those long split beards either side of my chin like some kind of shaolin master.

Anyway, when I made that decision two months ago to shave my neck and keep the beard, it was only ever supposed to be a temporary thing. I figured that I might as well have a beard at some point in my life so I can look back at photos and laugh, and I always planned to shave it off before going to Egypt at Easter. The trouble is that I have really grown quite attached to it. I'll be flying to Egypt in three weeks, and if I don't shave it off before I go then I'll have no choice but to keep it for the whole of the summer (nothing worse than a beard tan-line). I'm in a real quandary.

I have provided before and after mug shots for your amusement, but I would value any constructive comments you might have about the way forward. Unfortunately it's not really a fair comparison as I am two years younger with significantly less pasty-white skin in the 'pre-beard' photo, but it was the only one I could find. At least I have done my best to mimic my relaxed facial expression...



Babyface. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Intelligence & Maturity

Nine days until British summertime...

...and it's fucking freezing.

The panorama was three photos taken this-morning from my bathroom window. Thankfully the snow has now melted everywhere except the tops of the hills (like Ashton court on the right).

If you bring the photo up in it's own window, slap-bang in the middle you can just about make out the row of trees that form the backdrop to the header of this blog. In front of them to the right is the Winterstoke Road Sainsbury's (which also just about makes it onto the blog header). I mention this because since I started the blog, I have thought that I should choose a different picture for my blog header that better represents Bedminster. Anyone who's ever been here will know that a row of trees in the mist at sunset with rolling hills in the background doesn't paint a true picture of what Bedminster is really like.

In truth it's a heavily populated area with row after row of terraced housing, a complex maze of roads that can only be navigated in one direction at a time, and a very odd mix of Bristolian working class families and young professional couples.

So that got me thinking about what would be the one photo that would best sum up the suburb?

Bedminster parade would be an obvious choice, although every time I go there I am still astounded by the amount of tracksuits and cheap gold jewellery on display from the locals. When I was younger, I would probably have considered that to be a fair representation of Bedminster (back when my Sister and I used the term 'bemmer' to mean the modern day equivalent of 'chav'). But nowadays (well, since I moved here), I like to think that Bedminster has moved on and become a bit more of a fashionable place to be...

Perhaps a photo of North Street would make a better blog header, with what is quickly turning into a long row of cafe's, trendy bars and restaurants.

Any other suggestions?

Dodgy email?

Has anyone heard of this company? I certainly haven't but I've just had two identical emails from them. There's a link to 'learn more' in the top right corner, but it isn't actually a link.

I particularly like the note at the bottom, which first attempts to lure the reader into logging on by threatening to close the account in 72 hours (even though it doesn't exist), and then has the gall to suggest that they are attempting to 'combat fraud in our community'.

I haven't looked, but I'm guessing that some of the information they will ask me to confirm will include my bank account details, credit cards, mother's maiden name etc. I'm too paranoid to actually click on the link to find out though in case it chucks some sort of virus or spyware onto my system, presuming it hasn't already. Any thoughts? (A question particularly aimed at my more geeky computer type mates;)

Of course, there's a chance it might be legitimate. Perhaps I do have two bank accounts that I've never heard of before. Maybe they've got some money in them...

Full-Time Slacker - Official

I am currently 18 months into a four year course, which will eventually lead to my qualification as a mental health nurse. I am being sponsored to do my training by a ward I work on as a health-care assistant, which means I carry on getting paid but unfortunately it also means spending an extra year doing the training (supposedly balanced by a requirement to work one day a week on my ward). It seemed like this would be worth it, as un-sponsored students doing the full-time three year course receive a pathetic bursary of around £5k a year and therefore end up working their arses off just to get through it (not my style).

I spent the first 17 months of my course regretting this decision, because although I was getting paid the course just seemed to be going sooo s l o w l y. For example, for the last six weeks I have been attending lectures at uni one day a week (9.30 to 3.30 with two hours of breaks). I haven't even had to do my one day a week work on my ward, as I still had lots of annual leave to take before April. I've almost had too much spare time (almost).

Amazingly, just a couple of weeks ago the university actually realised that stretching the course out over four years for sponsored students was a stupid idea. In a complete U-turn, they've given us the option of switching to the full-time course while still receiving our monthly wage, and as you might have gathered from the title of this blog I have just taken them up on this offer. This means that I will finish the course six months earlier, and now for the really smug bit...I get full student holidays (8 weeks for summer, 2 weeks for Christmas and Easter)...PAID!

I realise most of you will be seething at this (apart from the teachers, obviously) but hey I'm going into a very highly-stressed under-paid career so I'm gonna milk this for all it's worth...

The only downside of the switch for me is that I no longer need to work one day a week on my ward, so in effect I've kind of limped out of working there. I've been there for over three years and didn't even really end up saying goodbye to most of the people I worked with. Also, the hospital itself is closing down in a few months and being relocated in the City.

Barrow hospital has been there for 70 years, back to when psychiatric hospitals were all built in the countryside (out of sight, out of mind). Admittedly, it is in a state of disrepair. There's legionella in the water, asbestos in the roofs, and just a few months ago part of the ceiling collapsed in the elderly unit showering a group of 'older adults' with plaster. However, it is a beautiful place full of very valuable and rare trees, wild orchids, deer, rabbits, bats, ravens and hundreds of squirrels. Perhaps this is why the NHS is able to sell the land, build a new hospital in the city, and still make millions of pounds out of the deal.

I went to Barrow hospital for the last time just a couple of days ago for a meeting to confirm my switch to full-time student status. While I left grinning from ear to ear at the prospect of paid holidays, I couldn't help feeling slightly sad that I would never be returning there again. In fact, I even took my camera...

The grounds

Road and trees...

Pathway

More grounds (regretting doing captions)

My ward, John Carey House + orchids