Virgin

6 February 2012

And what a day it has been.  Up early again today for yet another GP appointment caused because the last guy removing two items from my prescription repeats.  One of them has been replaced but the second one was not replaced because I was on two different tablets for the same condition and I really I only need the one of them.  That's fine, I can live with that - as long as it is all explained to me at the time. 

Our next fun and games began when Jan said, "The dammed internet is down yet again."  Not only was the internet down but the TV package was down too.  We phoned the Virgin helpline and we spoke to man with an accent - that's all I'll say about that - but trying to get any information out of him was like drawing teeth.  Once you move away from their script they get lost very easily indeed.  The problem as I see it is that they learn English at uni however, it is academic English.  It's like any other language, learn it as a second language and what you say will be very hard to understand to anyone who speaks the colloquial language.           Take for instance someone form Ulster; they might say, "I was walking down the street so I was ... " and that will throw some of these outsourced workers.  Our a Scot say, "di ye ken lassie?"  And what a Cockney saying he couldn't Adam and eve it when he fell down the apple and pairs.  Enough of that - back to Virgin!

Jan has spent some more time on the phone and spoke to a very helpful young man named Brian.  Our bill has now been reduced from £84 pm to £63 pm, which is what we wanted in the first place.  Not only that we also got a clear breakdown of what each component of that bill is and its cost.  Jan was on the phone for less than 10 minutes, but it was 10 minutes that would have been saved if she hadn't to spend nearly twice that tying to get some sense from a non-UK based person.

My writing efforts went down well yesterday.  I got 4600+ words done.  I've introduced a couple of new characters and a new location too.  It's another cop  story using the same detectives as I used in House of Pain.  It's based in Cambridge, cos I like Cambridge - Jan doesn't so I can go there by mesen and have fun poking about ;-)))  Anyway, one copper sees a problem with a heroin overdose death and it sparks a major UK wide case.  On top of that I've added in a drug dealer, a house fire and two dodgy cops.  Here's the prologue for you to read that takes palce the same days as the Birmingham pub bombing ...

"Sitting quietly in the school chapel, an 18 year old girl was sobbing into a tissue, one of many   she had worn out that day.  One of the convent's sisters saw the girl and approached her, sat down beside her waiting until the girl was ready to speak.  The sister knew who the girl was and why she was so upset, all the sisters knew that she had been turned down as a possible entrant into the order of nuns that ran the school.  It was her lack of maturity, her lack of  understanding and empathy for the other students at the school that had let her down.  Her reaction to her not being admitted was proof if it was needed that the right decision had been made.  The tears were not because she had been turned down but because the other girls in her year were not applying to be nuns.  As the girl saw it this was a waste of a good Catholic education. 

All these other girls were off into the world.  Some were going to university; some were going into work placements; some were actually boasting that at long last they could let their hair down, try drugs, get drunk and maybe even get pregnant.  This last idea was so abhorrent to the sobbing girl that she actually hated them for it.  That hatred was what caused the nuns to finally decide against her.  No nun could hold such hate in her heart for other women, no matter why she held such hatred.  However, the door wasn't completely closed to the girl.  She had been advised that she needed to go out and see some of the world, to spend time praying for the world from within it after having seen all its evil.  She could then come back in a few years and they would see how she had got on and perhaps she may have matured enough to be accepted by the order.

The sister sat quietly beside the sobbing girl, spending the time in prayer, not only for the girl beside her, but also for the world in general.  No nun would sit quietly without turning to prayer.  She was however, aware that the girl had stopped sobbing.  Her head was still hanging down, her hand clasped together in her lap.  "I shall leave now sister," said the girl in her lilting Irish voice.  "Thank you for sitting with me."  The girl rose from the seat and walked out of the chapel, out of the school and eventually out of everyone's memory.  The sister sat quietly praying for the girl to find peace before she too left the chapel.  The date was 21 November 1974. 

Later that day news began filtering through of the terrorist bombings of two pubs in Birmingham city centre.  Thoughts and prayers turned to the 19 dead and the many more who were injured and their families too.  It seems natural that such an event would wipe away the memory of the sobbing girl from most of those at the school.  But the sister who had sat with her didn't forget her and continued to pray for her."

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So then, time for a photo ... 

seeing as I have just mention the bombings, how about this one then?  The round building in the centre background is the Rotunda and it was in there that one of bombs went off.  It's been turned into flat now.  the penhouse one were going for a couple million each if you want one ;-)))

So, what has the Sage got for us today then?

   SENIORS GIVING BIRTH

With all the new technology regarding fertility recently, a 65- year-old woman was able to give birth.

When she was discharged from the hospital and went home, her relatives came to visit. "May we see the new baby?" one asked. Not yet," said the mother. "I'll make coffee and we can visit for a while first."

Thirty minutes had passed, and another relative asked, "May we see the new baby now?" "No, not yet," said the mother. After another few minutes had elapsed, they asked again, "May we see the baby now?" No, not yet," replied the mother.  Growing very impatient, they asked, "Well, when can we see the baby?"

"WHEN HE CRIES!" she told them.  "WHEN HE CRIES?" they demanded. Why do we have to wait until he CRIES?"

BECAUSE I FORGOT WHERE I PUT HIM. O.K.?"