Scottish Birthday

So this last weekend was the Scottish celebration of my 25th birthday (which is actually this sunday - long story) and my friends and I decided to have a night out. It turned into one of the most random and truly amazing experiences of my life.

But a bit of background. I decided that since the night out was on the 23rd, the same day as the Day of the Doctor, that I should have a Doctor Who themed party. For me, that meant digging out my Tenth Doctor costume and wearing it all day long. 

So I’m walking around Glasgow, and absolutely everywhere we went, we heard whispers of “That’s the Doctor” or “That guy’s dressed as the Doctor”. But the truly randomness of the evening didn’t happen until we headed to Steampunk Cafe.

We had a bit of time to kill, so we went into Lush. Immediately one of the shop assistants announced loudly “Oh brilliant! You have just made my day!” I smiled, laughed and thanked her. We looked around and left without buying anything. Then we went to the Police Box on Buchanan street, and decided to take a few photos.

There was another guy there as well, and he asked me to pose with his Dalek. I did, and various people stopped and asked for photos. I started chatting to him, when I noticed a guy walking past dressed as 11. Naturally, he was pulled into a few photos as well. As this was going on, a group of Whovians waving banners saying “Hugs for Doctor Who 50th Anniversary!” arrived. Naturally, there were hugs and a few more photos. 

All while a busker dressed as Slash played Sweet Child O’ Mine. 


It was surreal to the extreme, but also amazing. 

So after (finally) getting to the club, things settled down a bit. I had a couple of drinks, and was generally enjoying myself. 

And when I went up to the bar for another round, I saw another guy cosplaying as 11. Naturally, I went up to him and we mutually complimented each other on our outfits. I thought that was going to be the end of it.

Nope, not that easy. He was at the booth across from our table.

As the evening went on, we interacted a few more times. He complimented Kerri on her sonic (although he did complain about the red setting), we had a mini-dance off, which I won by virtue of having psychic paper, and I stole his fez and he chased me around the club, much to our friends amusement.

I also danced with a couple of friends, and had a quasi-German woman try to teach me how to lead by quoting Spider-Man (which is both hilarious and a tiny bit alarming) 

Then when he went, the sound system broke down. As a joke I went up to the DJ’s booth and offered him my sonic screwdriver. He laughed, took it and “zapped” the machine hooked up to the laptop.

It worked. 

(okay yes, he MAY have already fixed it by then, but I choose to believe my toy worked. It was that kind of day :P)

Then that same quasi-German woman spread some glitter across my forehead and declared me Simba, which somehow just seemed normal by that point. 

After getting back, we FINALLY watched the Day of the Doctor and every single one of us found something to be excited about it. Well done, Moffat!

All in all, a pretty damn fantastic birthday

My journey up to Glasgow

It's 01:27, and I can't get to sleep. You know what that means... story time. 

This one, surprisingly, is once again set on a train journey up to Scotland. This is unusual for several reasons. One, that I was travelling by train. Usually I go up to Scotland with my friend Jeremy and his Dad, who drives us up, but this time I went alone, so I went up by train. Two, its unusual because unlike journeys before and afterwards, it was very much a spur of the moment decision to go up.

It was Kerri's birthday, and she asked me up or I invited myself up. I forget which. It's irrelevant to the story which. The fact was that I was going up, and that it was spur of the moment. Well, I say spur of the moment. It was actually made about a week before the day I was due to set off. Dad agreed to loan me the money for the ticket, which we booked online, and we were all set.

Cut to a week later, and the morning arrived. I'd packed the night before, including Kerri's present, and got up early in order to enjoy breakfast with Dad before I set off. I got to the station with plenty of time to spare before the train was due, in order to get the ticket. I put my debt card in and...

and the machine asked for a booking number.

A tiny bit of background. Last time I booked tickets online (chronicled here in fact), it didn't ask for one (which dates it). You just put your card in and the tickets came out, just like at the cinema. I was flabbergasted. Fortunately, I had time so I called Dad... who didn't answer. I tried him twice more before giving up and calling Jeremy. Luckily, he was in and so I asked him to log into my hotmail account, gave him my password and told him to give me my booking number. 

He read it off and I tried to input it.... repeatedly. The damn machine wouldn't react to my touch in the slightest. I'd managed to get it to read two or three digits before it would decide that my time was up and clear my efforts. By this time, the train had come in, so I was a little panicky and between you and me, when I panic, I get angry. I was about to thump the machine when I heard it. my boarding call followed by the beeping of the doors and then...

The train was gone.

Panic transformed into blind panic, so I called Oma. Dad happened to be there, and he appeared by my side a few minutes later, put the code in successfully the first time (bastard) and got my tickets before announcing he would drive me up to Carlisle. That was all there was to it. We were racing my train. I rang Kerri to let her know about the delay before relaxing a little and chatting with Dad.

We made very good time. Dad dropped me off and I asked a guard where the train up to Glasgow was. He pointed to one and I climbed aboard, secure in my knowledge that soon, I would be meeting up with Kerri and beginning my holiday in earnest. 

Of course, it was the wrong bloody train.

The doors closed and the train set off... back the way I'd just come. A second or so later, the driver announced we were on our way to London just as the Conductor appeared. I sheepishly admitted that I was on the wrong train and he gave me one of the most withering looks I've ever received, and I've gotten looks off some of the best. This guy was simply not impressed, and to show it, he took my ticket off me (bastard).

Fortunately for me, the train wasn't an express, and I headed off to Lancashire. The driver said we'd be there in about 20 minutes, but did not take into account the fact a train ahead of us broke down. Once again, I rang Kerri to let her know I'd be even later. By this point, she had to go to work, and practically begged her mother to pick me up when I finally arrived.

About an hour after boarding the train to London (and telling Jeremy I'd given up on Scotland and was headed to the Capital for the weekend instead), I arrived in Lancashire. Of course, I did the smart thing and called Dad to let him know. He promised to put some more money into my account, so I'd actually have something to spend in Scotland, before telling me to just buy a ticket and go have fun.

Thus calmed, I followed his advice and finally arrived in Scotland without further incident, until Kerri rang and told me to get a train to Cumbernauld. I was in Glasgow Central, and the trip involved going to another station in Glasgow. Initially I had no clue where this 'Queen Street' was, until she said 'Do you know where Forbidden Planet is?'

I have a Forbidden Planet sense. Once I've been to one, I will NEVER forget where it is and always be able to find my way back to it. Fortunately, we'd gone on a previous visit, so I knew exactly where it was and how to get there. I told her so, and she pointed me in the right direction. To cut the rest of the story short, I arrived at the station, Kerri's mum was there to meet me and after a quick stop off at Kerri's work place to let her know I was alive, I finally began my holiday in Scotland.

To put a little perspective into this tale, my original estimated time of arrival was about 1-ish in the afternoon. I got there at about 18:10pm. But the most important thing - I had fun. Her birthday was fun, we made and I painted the Solar System. Good times were had and that's the important thing.

Well, that and having a laugh at my expense.

Live long and prosper

Storytime

For my hundredth blog, I thought I'd say something about memories.

Everyone has one memory, one absolutely glorious memory that cheers them up regardless of whatever situation they're in. Mine is so precious to me that I rarely think back on it, because I don't want it to become "just another memory". It's a wonderful story to tell.

And I'm not going to tell you it.  

Read what I wrote in my opening paragraph. This is a memory so personal to me that I have told one other person. Just one. Someone whom I trust so much I'd share it with. Who? You ask. I'll leave that for you all to guess, but let me tell you - it wasn't Kerri, Jeremy or Paul. One day, perhaps, I will share that memory with you, but its not today. Instead, let me tell you about my first ever shift as a student nurse.

It was on a stroke rehab ward, which is basically where people who have had a stroke and recovered sufficently to begin thinking about going home get discharged to. It's an interesting place, and the perfect spot to send a First year student who thought he knew it all, and let me tell you, it happens to every student. They spend three months or so learning basic stuff and think they're ready to take on the World.

The First placement is always an eye opener.

It's a place where you quickly discover how little you actually know. Sure, you know how to do a manual blood pressure and what a normal temperature is, but that's only the tip of the ice berg. My first day, I met a patient with a wrapped up leg. Why? I had no idea at the time, but a Staff Nurse pulled me and the other student into her room and told me to assist him in changing the dressing. 

why two of us?

Because he wanted to open our eyes. As he unwrapped the bandage I was holding, I noticed a strong smell coming from the wound. It was so strange and impossible to describe, but it's a smell I'll never forget. It was rotting flesh. The woman had had a stroke, but also had an open wound on her leg which had become infected with gangrene. How the hell do you treat gangrene? I hadn't a clue! 

And here I was, holding this leg up while the Nurse unwrapped it and then rewrapped it. It was, without a doubt, a truly disgusting and one I will not describe because it will make me gip. Even thinking back to that day does. It was just so awful, and this poor woman was on a very high dose of morphine because of it. She never recovered from it sadly, but I owe her a debt.

She showed me that I could do the job. That night, I did a bit of research on Gangrene. How it forms, how its treated etc. I also owe a debt to that Staff Nurse. He deflated my ego and showed me how much I needed to know.

On average, a third of a nursing class drop out after their first placement. A third. They realise they can't handle the stress or there's something about the job they just can't deal with at all so they leave. It's not their fault. They just find out that Nursing is not for them.

But that day, I found out I could.

Live Long and Prosper

Storytime: My Wolf Print

It's happened again. I came here to write an amazing blog and as soon as the screen opened, the idea I had completely disappeared. I've sat here for two or three minutes, and it hasn't come back. So instead, enjoy a story about one of the pictures on my wall.

This one to be precise

I got this picture back when I was leaving in my flat at Huddersfield. Back then, there was this absolutely brilliant junk shop. It's a night club now sadly but back when it was still a shop, it was the sort of place you could find all the things you never knew you wanted. There was an Alien vs Predator Table (Alien & Predator were the legs), a Spider-Man chair and a life-size Cardboard Wall-E. I nearly bought that, but it sold by the time I had £30 to spare (I was relatively poor between pay days).

But it also had that picture. 

I don't know what it is about that picture that caught my eye. All I knew was that I loved it, and it was approximately the same size as the mirror that I had hid in my wardrobe (trust me, if you were me, you would not want to see yourself first thing in the morning) so it would cover the sudden blank spot on my wall.

It was priced at £14. I went up to the shop owner (I was in there often enough so she knew me on sight, if not name) and told her I'd like her. We had a small talk about the picture, which included a debate on whether or not the main Wolf (not the moon Wolf) was sad or not. I took the side of it being happy. It looks happy to me, holwing simply because it can. It was evidentally a lot more eloquent in the shop, since she gave me it for £4 instead of the marked price. 

Since then, it has hung on the wall of every house/flat I've lived in (which isn't as impressive since I moved back home and am still there). I love it as much today as I did when I bought it. 

That's all. You can go now.

So Say We All

Story time, boys and girls

I'm bored. 
It's exactly 02:06 here and I am not tired (That and my bed is covered with most of my possessions and I'm too lazy to clear them off) so I thought I'd write up a blog and tell you a story. This story is called "The Time I pulled twice on a bloody cold Train". 
I don't care what your definition of "Pulling" is! I pulled twice! My Blog, MY RULES! 
Anyway!
We begin our story in Halifax. For those of you who don't where that is, it one of those many cities that's one claim to fame is "Yeah...it's close to Leeds." I was on a train headed there (not the train I pulled on) to meet a mate before embarking on a journey up to Glasgow to see someone else. I was running late, so rather then let Dad drive me to Leeds, I jumped on a Train to Leeds (see, smart!). 
So I arrived in Leeds (yay) still in my work clothes because I was running late. I met my Friend, and we eventually found our train. 
It looked like a Death Trap. 
And when we got on, we discovered our first impressions were fairly accurate. 
It was cold, it was rickety and to this day, I'm convinced that those doors never actually locked. According to the ticket, we were going to be on this Train for about two or three hours, and every seat was taken, so I stood by the door (possibly due to a subconscious death wish) and spent my time ignoring my friend bitching about the train's less then ideal conditions with my iPod. 
Then something grabbed my little finger! 
I turned to look at the source of the offender, and saw a wee baby. (No, this baby is not who I pulled!) The baby was wrapped up in a blanket, being held by a fairly attractive woman in her late twenties or early thirties. We started chatting and chatting lead to flirting. 
Successful Pull One
Some stops later, she gave me a peck on the cheek and got off the train, waving goodbye to me from the window. 
Then a Gothic Looking Girl came over. People who know will know that I have a slight goth fetish. For some reason, I find them completely irresistable. If you want to do something stupid, come up to me looking SLIGHTLY Gothic (IE just wear black) and I will probably attempt to tame a Lion...with a stick and a chilli. She smiled at me, and I smiled back. 
Then she mentioned that she'd seen me with the baby and thought I looked cute (especially in my trench coat, which was hiding my Nurse's uniform). Instantly, I was ready to hand over all my worldly possessions to this woman. We chatted for a bit (I was still ignoring my mate) and thanks to living with one of my best friends and watching him play Obivilon for HOURS AND HOURS AND HOURS, I managed to bluff my way through the Elder Scroll section. Basically, we chatted and it was surprisingly easy (This day boosted my confidence immensely). 
Then I made the fatal mistake. 
(No, I didn't kill her). Her stop came up, and she got off. No kiss on the cheek this time, but she did wave at me from the window and I waved back/
and I did nothing. 
Later, I realized I'd forgotten to ask for her number (or her name, come to think of it). Rookie Mistakes I've vowed never to repeat. 
Eventually, we got on a safe train (it was warm), we got seats and made it to Glasgow (where it was FREEZING!). I had a brilliant weekend, but I kept thinking of that Girl. 
To this day, when I'm down in the dumps, I remind myself of most (Save the rookie mistakes part) of that story and I always feel better. 
Hope you enjoyed that, and if you didn't, why did you read it all?
Idiots. 

The Paradoxical Spoon

Right, it's Saturday night. I've just proven myself a brilliant source of Doctor Who trivia on a radio show (done by my mate Kerri), and, armed with a group of five other people, dropped the keys off somewhere and gone off in search of food, which, in this case, was of chinese origin.
Now, one long and slightly perilous (back alleys) journey later, we arrive at a Chinese. While some of my dinning companions were making Hobbit Homes out of their rice dishes (and in the case of Heather, an exercising Gandalf), I was rewarded with King Prawn Chow Mein. Delicious it was too!
NOW, throughout my meal, this has remained, unused at my side.

That's a spoon, for the record.
Upon completing my main course, I noticed something rather important.

My Spoon was gone! Now, you normally people would probably assume the Waiter picked it up by accident, but not me. I know the truth. And it all relates to this man:

That's me 12 years in the future for the record. (I don't know why I have grey hair. I just do.). Clearly, in 12 years time, I'm about to eat something, and decided to get a specific spoon. So I went back in time to the present, when I look like this:

to take that specific spoon! BUT WAIT! IT gets better. Upon ordering desert (cheesecake nomnomnomnom) I asked for a spoon. Now, I am convinced that the spoon I recieved is the exact same spoon my future self took! My theory is, 12 years AFTER I went back in time and took the spoon (so 24 years after I've first gone to the Chinese place - and I look like this)

(Again, I don't know why I'm so grey.)
I must've found the spoon and realized that, in order to complete this never ending Time Loop, I need to go back in time AND give the spoon to the waitress. So I went back, gave her the spoon with the specific instructions to give me that spoon, and then gone back to the future happy that I'd completed the Time Loop.
But, ultimately, the important thing is:

(Ocarina of Time fans should remember the "Get Item" theme for that picture).
That's my theory anyway and in 24 years time, I'll tell you if that was the case.
Also, on the radio, apparently my catchphrase is huzzah!

Long Live and Prosper.