Financial Management

I know when I first starting doing this blog there were going to be tutorials about how to manage your finances

1) Join the local library
2) Borrow an Alvin Hall book and Read it. Preferably on a Friday or Saturday night.
3) Start monitoring your daily expenditure - eg get a diary and write in in exactly how much you've spent on a day.
4) Start analysing your expenditure. EG you spend 50% on books. 50% on food (this is an example from me, so books is an area you know you can cut down)
5) Stop spending so much on your 'weak areas'.
6) Increase your income; in my case become a Union steward and make sure the idiots in charge sufficiently financially renumerate you for the hell that is known as Work. In P's case do a load of locums.
7) Have financial meetings with yourself (and when you get a partner them); And this is VERY important: ON A FRIDAY NIGHT for an hour. If you do it on a Friday (the financial meeting) then this discourages you from spending any money at the weekend
8) Transfer all your debts to 0% credit cards
9) Pay off your debts with all the money you're saving from not spending on books
10) Go on a walk and meditate.

Who's independent?

It's been raining and I nearly got a photo of some lightning but, being slightly slower than the speed of light, just missed it. Instead got a photo of Marmite washing herself as she got wet in the rain. Anyway, because of my useless IT skills combined with Fabrice (our nice French neighbour who we 'borrow' broadband from) switching his broadband off or whatever he does when it switches off, the IT capacity of this computer is now equivalent to my chances of becoming the next Jordan. So yet again I cannot post the photo on the blog or put the correct damn time up.

But really enjoying watching films. I persuaded Phil to record 'The Low Down' which is my favourite film - the only film I've seen more than 3 times. It's set in Dalston, (where I used to live) and it's about a guy in his twenties who works in an Animation production company (which I used to do)generally having a good time mooching around doing not much at all (which I still do). It's set in present time (the late nineties, it's about 7 years old). I love it. It celebrates art - really enjoying every minutae of detail and it's like 'Lost in Translation', in that it's reflective but I think it's about a million times better as it's not racist. There's really poignant bits as it's before September 11th (9/11) as the guy meets a girl who says 'When I see plane go by above I always think of holidays' and he says 'I always think of it crashing'. The very last shot is of a plane going over - it probably was one of the last films I saw before September 11th. My only complaint is - why did the main character have to be a guy? Also they could have had some positive portrayals of black characters - the only black people are the druggies.

Phil got bored with it though. He prefers 'Herbie goes on Tour' etc; I'm trying to educate him when it comes to films. 'It's Art darling' is what I say.

Then watched Thelma and Louise which GG had bought me as a present. And I remembered why it's not my favourite film. One word. Violence. I had to fast forward the violent bits. Yes, Brad Pitt is fit, but let's face it who wasn't in 1992? Feminism isn't about nicking all the nasty bits from men, it's about persuading them to engage in the lovelier aspects of femininity too - love, compassion, communication and sensitivity. So, I am glad I've got the film, but it's not my favourite.

Then, because darling was working I actually watched a TV film. 'Ghosts of Mississipi' on BBC 1. And I thought it was great. I'm not normally a fan of court room dramas - America is so dependent on her lawyers, she's forgotten community and humanity. But Alex Baldwin was this nice lawyer (I know, hard to believe) fighting for a black man shot dead by a racist thug in the 60s. He wins. I would say that the 'n' word is more of a swear word here than the 'c' word, but the way they were showing it over there, it's like people are allowed to say it on TV. Also, even the 'liberal' white middle class people don't have black friends. There is no integration. It just makes me thank God I don't live over there.

Childish

This is very childish

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia_talk:NPOV_tutorial

But please. Come on. If Wayne Rooney can essentially slap someone else in the quarter final of the World Cup and get away with it, then I can tell Wikipedia to F OFF.

5 or 6 entries on one 'day'

For those of you who can actually count - it looks like being at the moment which counts as the same day as yesterday at the moment - 5 full entries on one day. That's a Guinness world record for the amount of blog entries by myself on one 'day' (if it's allowed) over a twenty four hour period. If you can work out my address (clue - I'm on the electoral roll) and send me a Get Well Soon Card, I'll send you a signed postcard of Stoke Newington cf 2005.

Norris McWhirter

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Norris_McWhirter

Still don't know how to work the internet. But Norris McWhirter was a waste of space. But on a more serious note, I think I have broken my own world record for the amount ogf entries on my site on one 'day'.

Love to all

I don't care what time it is

Like another heroine of mine [Joella] suddenly it dawns on me I don't care what time it is. Phil has left his blackberry here, the only person who could possibly calculate the correct (and I MEAN correct) time is some astrophysicist/TimeLord/Goddess/parent and would it matter anyway?

And then I start thinking about the other Y axisses (or is it Axes?). Truth, Love, Faith, Hope. How on earth would they measure them? And what about enjoyment? Light of course should be on the Y axis, but then without Time what the hell does it matter? Then you have matter itself. And then the Blackberry rings; it is Kingston. Phil has left his bleep in theatre. I suggest they try the Doctors' Mess.

Blog Time - PLease God help me

I am writing this at 1.47am yet the stupid blog says whatever it says. The only reason I did the last blog was that it would be the second one for July and according to this American bloody rubbish it is the same day. Somebody please help.

Parental Censorship : PC

Both parents, despite missing my campaign of about 12 months ago to get comments on my blog, are now the most frequent commentators. Better than both John Motson or Mark Lawrenson.

But, a bit like fascism, they work in mysterious ways. Rather than post a comment as say 'Anna's Mum' or 'Anna's Dad' they use supposedly obscure pseudonyms, or even, (so very 1980s) ring me up in person and say that 'using the word scum is using the same language as the BNP'. And I think to myself 'Are they advocates of freedom of speech or do they mean to suppress it?'. And a bit like George Orwell, I am caught, between the two (or three in my case) should I go with them - and delete a bit of history? Or go with my gut instinct and delete slightly less history at a later point?

I met a self-confessed fascist tonight. I was shocked, that in 2006 with gay rights etc in London this could happen, but yes it did. He said "If anyone laid a finger on my Sinead I would kill them, wouldn't you try and kill someone who tried to kill your partner?' I said 'No of course not, I'm a pacifist. Every human life has value and it's terrible that you think this way. It's wrong. I would never hurt a human being'. Simon, the true anarchist, with a shaved head and no job said 'Well yes, I would and if it was the state doing it I would disagree with you and say no the State cannot intervene'. And socialism appeals again. We don't let people get away with murder. That's what happened in the Spanish Civil War. The fascists won because the pacifists wouldn't side with the anarchists. But who's who? I was asking myself as I downed some more anaestically pleasing alcohol.

Engagement Bliss

Spoke to one of the last people - my beautiful, face of an angel friend Allison from Middlesborough - about the bad news last night. She was shocked and upset, but I said that we were planning to come up and visit in between my radiotherapy sessions in the summer, some time in August, when also visiting Jenny and Derek, surrogate parents in York.

But I do feel absolutely marvellous (apart from some pain). Had the best evening ever with Phil on Tuesday, if married life is even 20% as good as that I'll be happy. Utterly spoilt. Never had so much chocolate in the house ever. It's all Green and Black too apart from some incredibly expensive French stuff from our gay French neighbour, Fabrice. Had a full house of about five guests on Wednesday night when my brother Joe came down from Leeds. Phil was working and GG from work came over. My best mate Paolo from Italy had also popped round and helped with some odd jobs like putting the washing out. We all sat outside drinking some rather excellent red wine. Malcolm, a musician mate of Joe's also turned up and we were playing Neil Young with Paolo saying 'I used to listen to this twenty years ago and not understand the words', and other such intellectual, fascinating nuggets. He got talking to GG which was quite good as both can talk for England/Italy so keeping them both going together was quite a neat trick. One of my ambitions is to write a character profile of Paolo. He is so funny that he needs to be written about he is so uniquely boring, predictable yet hilarious, Italian, beautiful-life-esque as to be unbelieveable and some of the scrapes we've got up to need documenting. You can tell Malcolm and Joe are also getting slightly more successful as they spent the entire evening shouting on their mobile phones trying to get bass players to different gigs. Malcolm was saying that he was fed up of World tours as they are 'boring'. Both Joe and Malcolm are currently riding on the back of the successful Corrine Bailey Rae, claiming that 'pop' is dead simultaneously.

The ideal thing about writing a character assasination of Paolo is 1) He is IT illiterate 2) He knows I don't mean it 3) It won't ruin my career 4) It will be funny yet correct

GG promised not to talk about work or the NHS until I return to work and instead got me a lovely card, more chocolate, a Philip Pullman book (socialist) plus Thelma and Louise DVD. I asked her for funny photos of staffside/unison people to put in my Rainy Day box. That's the thing about socialists - they need their sense of humour injection from the anarchists.

Then on Thursday we went to Cambridge to visit the beautiful baby Zia, daughter of our best man Joel and his wife Zoe. She is only six weeks old and virtually (although possibly not quite) as pampered as I am at the moment. I gave Joel a hard time saying that the one thing people remember about a wedding is whether the best man's speech is funny or not. He said he wasn't a stand up comedian. I said he'd better start practising. Phil is more concerned about the stag do. Phil was very dismissive of the present I had got Zia - a folio society hard back edition of 'Anne of Green Gables' with an introduction by Margaret Atwood. But it went down a storm, as of course it was Mummy's favourite book (which she had disclosed whilst pregnant, admitting crying whilst watching the video). The other link which I hadn't realised is the Canadian link (LM Montgomery Canadian and Zoe spent some years there) so it was even better and something that can be kept for generations. We ended up spending the night in Cambridge - in the wonderful camper-van which is still code-word for Anna&Phil special time 'Camper-van time' as we had such an amazing holiday in J&Z's campervan a year ago.

Four days after breast cancer surgery

I'm still reading Alan Clark's diaries while Phil is mastering Level Five of Grand Theft Auto. Was in a bit more pain this morning and have necked a couple of mega drugs which are now reserved for real pain following my codeine overdose on Sunday.

Anyway the trick with Alan Clark is - first his dialogue is very good. Also he assasinates his characters and shows his own hypocrisies; whilst Employment Minsister in the depths of the highest unemployement figures in the early eigthies he challenges the unemployed saying there isn't enough demand in the economy then says he's lucky they don't know how much him and Nicholas Soames spend on a night's meal out. He desperately wants to work at the MOD which he eventually does. I desperately want to see Ken Livingstone as Prime Minister which I probably won't.

It's interesting comparing his diaries say, compared to WF Deedes memoirs (the Editor of the Telegraph). I read these when we went to Spain last year to stay in Auntie Shirley's flat. (Uncle Derrick is a Tory, well probably New Labour now, God knows, but he had Deedes memoirs). This Deedes guy was apparently happily married with three kids, AND HE NEVER MENTIONED THEM. It put me off him, and journalism. Alan Clark very fondly talks about his wife, which although I'm sure he was racist sexist scum, somehow makes him more endearing. There are a couple of nice photos of her in the book.

The problem with following Alan Clark's example of putting some decent dialogue on this blog, is that in my case there is very little going on.
It's things like Phil saying 'The reason you're so stiff is because you haven't done your exercises... Can I just finish this stage darling? ... [And when I do my exercises] 'Well done, That's so much better than yesterday'.

Clark's hatred of his job certainly puts me off rushing back to work in a hurry. The thing that Alan Clark will be best remembered for are his funny, entertaining and quite frankly historical diaries. He takes the piss out of people like Tom King. Like him I'd rather be remembered for something like that than sorting out car parking for health centres in Hackney, or in his case putting a report through the committee stage. But can my blog live up to his diaries? In my case I'm deliberately trying to be polite about people in case they sue me, or worse stop speaking to me. Also I don't know the people I hate like he does so can't comment about them properly (eg Patricia Hewitt).

The upper class is a funny old phenomenon, mutating to firmly establish itself as still in control. They're probably more popular now than when Clark was in office. (Take Prince Charles or David Cameron).

Now I'm about to marry Phil, AND I've attended the Fulham Breast Cancer Haven place I'm practically one of them already so I'd better shut up. Only joking, there is no doubt that I am middle class. You do have to be born into upper class, but then look at Kate Middleton...

Day 23 of Breast Cancer

I'm back at home and it is absolutely marvellous! The sun is shining on my resplendant golden showers roses plus the chamomile. Mum is cooking a massive brunch for me and Dad who is due any second. I can just about type and am in minimal pain - despite having had an operation on Thursday!

I was the first on the list which was great as it meant no waiting and the team were fresh. I was up and about in no time at all and the breast is hardly different. They have done a neat cut around the nipple which will hardly show, so fingers crossed (and everything else) that the damn thing hasn't spread. We find out the results a week on Friday.

I tried reading Miss Marple in hospital, but found it too saccarhin, instead turned to 'How to Enjoy your operation' a humour book from 1963 which I quite enjoyed. Now I'm reading Alan Clark's diaries which is very good indeed. Can't put it down. Except I hate his racist sexist self. He reminds me of me though - hates his job and would prefer to be out in the countryside, or in my case the garden.

Phil was wonderful, although we both had a little cry when I had to go to have an Xray and I was fussing about my photos when he got back. He had just been saying how terrible it would be if I had Lung cancer. Of course that hasn't been ruled out yet. He went on a little walk and then we were ok. Mum was there too and I was so delighted with how well I felt than I rang everyone in my address book.

Breast Cancer – Week Three

A matter of hours before I go in for the op and I’m at the computer (but brilliantly for the first time this week!). Am doing all the right things – just got back from the Alexander Technique – a double session for us both to get us nice and relaxed.

Have created a ‘rainy day box’ the size of a small house, and deciding on reading material. Also – and this is terrible, it’s taken me to get breast cancer for work to decide they need a car park attendant! But I did smile when I saw him as I was delivering my sick note on Monday.

Had lovely cards from people and still getting excited about the wedding. Hollinsclough School has agreed for us to use their field for a marquee. Doing meditation like it’s going out of business, including a session at the London Buddhist Centre ‘ Let me be well, Let me be happy, Let me be free from suffering, Let me learn, grow and develop’; my new mantra.

Saw my lovely friend Anni and her three kids yesterday – Nina and the two twins Jamie and Alexander. They are all absolutely gorgeous. Tried on my wedding shoes yesterday. Going to have a bird theme – on the shoes anyway, I’m thinking two swallows and then a dove as a decoration for the dress. The EPP gang have got me some beautiful flowers. Phil is building some garden furniture.

And the Druids (plus friends) are dancing for me – at Stone Henge!

Week Two of Breast Cancer

Since I got my diagnosis so far it hasn't rained. In fact it's beautiful and I've asked Connie (our cleaner) to water the plants in pots today. But yet again I'm indoors, at a computer updating my blog. But there is a lovely water feature in the Fulham Haven (where I am exploiting their facilities at the moment) and I've been here all day.

It's an old church with a beautiful stained glass window someone gave. The Haven itself was set up by a rich woman as she decided her nanny wasn't getting enough support on the NHS. It's only ten years old and it's great.

I've been keeping incredibly upbeat - probably the least depressed I've been in the last six years. Amazing how if your life suddenly may be in danger you actually start to appreciate it. The room we had our meditation and relaxation sessions in was the same temperature as a glass oven, but even so I went back there early from lunch as the other 'contestants' (I do feel like I'm on some bizarre game show where we all want each other to survive) starting comparing notes on chemotherapy which didn't sound like the summery picnic I'm enjoying at the moment. They're thrusting a healthy diet on us like there's no tomorrow, but at the moment I'm fattening myself up for surgery. For lunch we had rice salad followed by some stange stuff they claimed was cake with strawberries. Dairy and soya are no-nos.

I feel like a world expert on meditation after just one week, people were scribbling down the book I'm using (John Hudson - Meditation). Mum's best friend Elspeth said it the cancer couldn't have happened at a worse time, but I think it couldn't have happened at a better time. It's early summer for a start, I had learnt meditation already, I'm an Expert Patient volunteer tutor, just got engaged, my fiancee is a surgeon of all things and Work is actually Hell itself.

The methodists are praying for me, the Catholics are asking for my forgiveness, the Jews are gesticulating (or whatever they do) the Church of England are letting me go round their graveyards, The Baptists are also praying for me and the Seventh Day adventists. The Muslims are praying for peace on my behalf. The Atheists are getting angry and the agnostics are asking a load of questions. I'm trying everything. No stone will be unturned (literally - I was on my tummy getting stones out of Mum's stream in the garden for my new engagement/recouperation water feature present). Surgery a week on Thursday (22nd June).

Love to all

Breast Cancer: Day Four – The Story so Far

Having suffered from serious depression/anxiety [God knows - in fact He probably thinks it was cannabis psychosis] when splitting up with my ex-boyfriend (Mick) about four years ago, this is a totally different kettle of fish. I remember when my first boyfriend (Steve) and his sister (Ang) were told they needed to have their wisdom teeth out. This is more like that; they went in perfectly fine and came out looking like the Hunch Back of Notre Dame. In my case it’ll be more like the Saggy Tit of Stoke Newington. To be honest, if you can’t laugh about it, then you may as well cry, which I don’t find at all useful. And that really is the hilarious thing. I seem to have spent virtually my entire life looking for some reason or another to wallow in self pity, and then the reason finally comes along and it’s the last bloody thing you want to do.

I’m really appreciating even my step brother’s kids. And my step brother/s. And Buxton Pavillion Gardens. The list is endless, but I will continue; B&Q, the Today Programme (now I’ve got Cancer when it annoys me Phil allows me to switch to Capital), the sunshine, the rain, Homerton Hospital.

Meditation is coming into its own: I’m going to dump my membership of the Folio Society (need self help books instead and now I’ve got a legitimate reason), Take the £50 worth of History books I bought from Waterstones on Wednesday back. I’m going to Hypnotherapy tomorrow. Phil is going to manage my pain. I’m going to use every trick in the book to manage fatigue. And I get six months off work. I’ve already done a list of my 100 guests to the evening do of the wedding and got all sorts of people investigating wedding things (Steve’s Dad for example – see above for genetic teeth information).

The most tiring thing so far is telling people. Of course because I had such wonderful news (engagement) two weeks ago, people are still sending me congratulations cards. I’m having to go round them one by one and say ‘Ive got a bit of bad news. I’ve got breast cancer, diagnosed on Friday’.

Slight pause. Then they normally say ‘Oh My God’, Oh Goodness Me (Catholic response) ‘What?’ (Sound of car crashing/screeching to a halt) ‘No’ ‘I can’t believe it’ (very common and this is the sort of response I would give) ‘I don’t know what to say’.

Then I take on a sort of Doctor-ish authorative air, putting them at their ease. Saying ‘Well It’s a grade 2 lump, Two centimetres, I will have to have surgery and radiotherapy, and it’ll be taken out a week on Thursday, but we find out the test results from today on Friday which determines the extent of surgery and whether I have to have chemo or not so I’ll ring you back then’.

Then there’s another five minutes of them saying ‘I can’t believe it’ sound of sobbing, croaky voice, complaints of hangover/just coming of shower which explains their shakiness etc etc. 95% of the time they say ‘Well you’ve caught it early’ which they assume they have because I’m only 32. Then I say ‘Well actually it’s not that early because the earliest to catch the lumps are by mammogram which aren’t routinely done on anyone our age as it’s considered too risky. It would be Grade One if I got it on a mammogram and it’s grade Two’.

Then we have a little chat about the wedding. Definitely Hollinsclough Chapel. A few jokes about this and that. Then, because I’ve told them some horrific news, they start revealing theirs. But I actually quite like that. Mine is worse and at the moment I can talk about it as though I’m talking about what to do about the greenfly problem on my climbing rose.

Phil keeps on saying ‘It’s so unfair’. But I think it’s fine. I wouldn’t wish illness or suffering on my worst enemy (don’t think they exist anyway) but there couldn’t be a better prepared patient. In fact Phil said ‘You’ve just been waiting for a disease and now it’s happened’ which I thought was slightly unfair, but I’m (almost) an accredited tutor on the Expert Patient Programme, got heaps of experience of Health care and Phil is now my fiancee. He is suggesting that if there is a worse case scenario (get given 18 months to live next week) that we bring the wedding forward – ie to next month. I think having a wedding to look forward to might help me get better.

If I could just get more people involved in ‘Keep our NHS Public’ then my mind would be at rest…

Breast Cancer

Unfortunately I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer on Friday. Apologies to anyone who knows me that I haven't managed to ring to let them know, but you know now!

I don't really know where to start on this one, except to predict that I don't think this is the end of the blogging as I predicted in my last entry. Mum tried to be helpful by giving me a book called 'Writing your Way through Cancer' which I'm sure is a great book. My next entry will be 'Politicising your Way through Cancer'. I'm using the Cancer as an reason to try and get everyone else doing all the political stuff I was doing, instead of which I'm doing a tour of family and friends trying to look optimistic before I get really ill. Having the segmentegtomy or whatever it's called a week on Thursday.

Dad already thought the blog was self indulgent, but he ain't seen nothing yet.

A time to search on the internet and a time to give up

Because both wedding planning and saving the NHS are such labour intensive activities, unfortunately the blogging is the first thing to go. Of course the best day of your life needs planning in the most minutest of details (eg date stamping your shoes, different perfumes in the toilets). Losing your job could be arguably one of the worst things to happen too, so that also takes a hell of a lot more work to be quite honest, to try to avoid, not just for me but the other hundred or so who I'm helping to represent.

Hollinsclough Chapel may necessitate a Sacred Text. My knowledge of the Bible (increasing on an hourly basis, thank the Lord) is limited to my recently purchased 3.99 'Wedding Readings' book. Fortunately my beloved already knew one off by heart (Catholic/Boarding School/Choir Boy/Scout/Army etc upbringing) which doesn't mention His Name, so united as committed atheist/agnostic, we may go with that: Paul's letter to the Corinthians, apparently common as Sacred Muck, but still the best.

Better than 'Wives submit to your husbands' or 'The greatest commandment'.

TOTAL MORGANISATION AND IT IS ABSOLUTELY AWESOME!

I can hardly contain myself I am so happy and excited. Yes, we are now engaged to be married. It is wonderful! It was our year anniversary at the weekend and I had always said to Phil that anniversaries are more important than, say, Valentines Day as it is a unique day for us. So we had always said we’d do something special, but I didn’t expect that special! It was a complete surprise, as he had been totally throwing me off the scent. Only a few weeks ago he was saying, he wasn’t ready for the commitment of engagement and two years of going out was the right time for him to propose. I think I actually asked him what he’d say if I’d propose and I think he said he wouldn’t like it as that’s his job. He’s quite traditional and romantic like that. But, as he’s a terrible liar he had told me he’d got me an expensive present, so I was quite excited anyway. I’d roped in people at work to help me guess what it was, telling them that it wasn’t an engagement ring as he had said he didn’t want to get engaged. So based on his clues (could fit it in a skip, it was ‘heartfelt’, and I might not like the package) the best guess was a rowing machine. They also came up with a waterbed and a Nile cruise. The reality was much, much more amazing! Not only a propsal of marriage from the person I'm incredibly in love with, but the most bling diamond solitaire you could find – a carat with a hexagonal setting on a platinum band. Absolutely gorgeous. And I have a certificate which shows the pattern of the cuts – which is beautiful in itself. He went down on one knee at ‘Mr UnderHill’s’ in Ludlow, where we’d gone on a gastro-camping extravaganza, after I presented him with some significantly cheaper Art Nouveau gold plated cufflinks. I suppose the correct thing to do is cry, but I couldn’t stop laughing I was so happy! It was the happiest day of my life (so far) as I’m hoping my wedding day will beat it, not to mention taking my children home for the first time! Of course, I said of course straightaway. He is the most wonderful person in the world and I want us to spend the rest of our lives together. Thanks Gorgeous and I love you very much!

Tattontastic Morganisation! xxx

Significant presence

I had managed to stop counting my blessings for the past three days as I was still buzzing from visiting the Houses of Parliament. It was so amazing – a feeling of togetherness, unity, ‘solidarity’ (mentioned three times on their platform!) with the nurses. Then we went to the lobby, a wonderful historic room with glistening stained glass windows with seven gothic passageways off the beautifully tiled central area, with us lobbyists sitting on lovely sofas waiting for our MPs. It is no wonder that the beautiful Noun begat the verb, ‘to lobby’. It was busy with nurses seeing their MPs, campaigning to save the NHS from all over the country (England that is). The lobby is very church-like, with mosaics of the four saints of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales in New Romantic style. Virtually as soon as the mosaics were finished, they must have been out of date I thought to myself, thinking about the Bloody Sunday protests of 1916. How much of history is interpreted correctly even if every word in the houses of parliament was documented? There were statues of the eighteenth and nineteenth prime ministers; no female subjects of course, apart from angels on the arms of the saints. The impact of women, apart from the nurses and angels was evident only from the damage a suffragette had done by chaining herself to one of the statue’s swords. But the very fact that I was sitting there, as John Reid, the new Home Secretary was being interviewed – the Health Secretary did not lose her job – gave me confidence. I am a part of history and not insignificant. My ‘leaders’ at work talk about ‘Change Management’. I create change – and in a good way.

"We will fight any compulsory redundancies tooth and nail"

Not the words of Hatton or Tatton, but Catton. Howard Catton, Head of Policy at the Royal College of Nursing yesterday afternoon. I couldn't believe my ears, then three other Nursing big wigs mentioned the word 'solidarity' on the platform. Perhaps my blog should be called 'Attontastic'.

How to become ridiculously peed-off in one evening

I wasn't really peed-off at the weekend, but one thing that was incredibly irritating was that Amazon rejected my brilliant review of 'How to become ridiculously well read in one evening'.

I wrote a limerick which Phil's brother and his mate contributed to (it was a team effort) and then, Amazon won't publish it! I don't know what the world's coming to.

Here it is:

I once read a book by E Parrott
It quaffed well like a good claret
T’was written in the eighties
And was a bit dated
But don’t agree with A Woollard, ‘e says it ain’t shit hot

I would put in the website address but still don't know how to.>IS this it?