The Knife! (Again)

Well now, those closest to me already know that I am approaching another run in with the medics. I am not going public with what is going to happen yet - I am not too sure exactly how I feel about letting the world know.

Suffice to say it is MAJOR elective surgery and it will happen (I hope) three weeks from today, as long as they don't close the hospital due to a few people having minor sniffles that is. Now, this is a slightly risky procedure and therefore a wee bit scary - I might not make it back from the theatre, but the odds are an acceptable 1:1500. Hell, I've done things to myself with far worse odds of popping the old clogs than that (admittedly not for quite some time though).

Anyway - in three weeks or so, the pain ratings will reflect what is happening all over my poor aching carcass, not just the hands.

Here's a wee clue for the qualified surgeons amongst you:

Nice huh?

Now, I need to quote Bill Hicks here - Bill came up with something I have been thinking since I was about 17 years old and if I don't make it through this shit I want it as my memorial.

'You know all that money we spend on nuclear weapons and defense each year, trillions of dollars, correct? Instead -- just play with this -- if we spent that money feeding and clothing the poor of the world -- and it would pay for it many times over, not one human being excluded -- we can explore space together, both inner and outer, forever in peace.'

Yep, I'm feeling vulnerable scared and emotional. Again.

Fuck.

Current Pain Rating: 0

International Security and the Amerikkkan Effect

I have just returned from a few days in Europe. A 50th birthday trip to Amsterdam with Mrs. E as it happens. We won't go into the sordid details, suffice to say that my brother suggested there were three things worth doing in the city and asked which I did. A, B and C was the reply. Now, C is a boat trip, the rest? Hell - go figure!

Anyway, the point is that leaving the UK, we were thoroughly searched, had a bottle of mouthwash confiscated, even though there was only 50mls in it (which you could clearly see) and were generally made to feel intimidated by the police officers at customs (at least at Bristol they don't carry automatic weapons like at Stanstead!)

Arriving at Schipol we just walked straight out of the airport - no checks of any kind - it felt very odd!

Whilst resident in the port of Amsterdam, although the police were very evident (we were staying in the red light district) they took a real 'softly softly' approach some even dishing out minor reprimands between tokes from huge spliffs (I kid you not!)

Returning to Schipol we are a little worried about customs as we have bought gifts for the offspring, which include fluids (cherry beer and Absinthe) and a bag of marijuana teabags for the eldest, who likes to keep it nice and organic. So we decide to stash them in the bags and go for it anyway - if they get confiscated, well that's a lesson learned. Guess what? Hardly any security at all apart from a quick wizz through a scanner and a grinning passport officer who is more interested in Cath's surname (MulHOLLAND) than our passports. And not a police officer in sight.

Now, some may call me cynical and some may even think I am misguided, but could this difference in approach to security have anything to do with the UK being a massive target for international terrorism due to having it's collective cock wedged firmly up the festering arsehole of Amerikkka, whilst the gentle Dutch don't do wars and generally have a good time?

Answers on a postcard to the usual address please.

Current Pain Rating: 0