What with a non-stop influx of college work, placement, Red Cross duties, driving lessons and what ever else gets thrown my way, there's been little time for sitting down in front of my laptop, kicking back with a mug of hot chocolate and winding down to type up the latest interesting account of my most recent adventures. So now, I must back date in order to keep you fully up-to-date with the latest first aiding action.
Tuesday 11th
Caitlind and me actually managed to hold the attention spans of twenty Beavers on this night, by telling them about the wonders of basic life support. Who would've thought it? It went really well too, with the little blighters lapping up the chance to have a nosey round Red Echo 2.
This was then followed by the slightly less successful, yet some how amusing, bout of training back on home turf at our own RC office. Well, it is slightly more daunting teaching folk you know then it is to teach total strangers, especially when you know fine you're audience already has a rough idea of what you're going on about.
Tuesday 18th
We made Caitlind cry at RC training that night! All because we gave her a digital camera as a birthday present - bless her wee soul, hehe.
Saturday 22nd
Was meant to be covering several rugby matches at Gordonstoun bording school, however due to snow and icy conditions, this was thankfully cancelled. So I made Christine drop me back off at the Town Hall where the Model Fair was taking place and where Charile and Caitlind were currently treating broken wrists; no joke. It was a surprisingly fun day (once again our reputation preceded us!) and we even spotted a couple of model ambulances amongst the train sets, and a rather funky fire engine with real flashing blue lights, which mesmirised us for a fair length of time and every time we passed it! Of course, we were entertained a lot of the time by playing with our newly-bought model ambos...well, it's always a laugh, trying to set up your own micro red cross fleet...yeah, ok, I know we're crazy :)
Now back to present day...
Yes, it was brief, but it's an update. In slightly more recent news, and not Red Cross related, I've reached the midway point of my first nursing placement at Victoria Crescent Medical Centre. It's been immense fun so far, bandaging leg ulcers, dressing slightly more minor wounds, watching toe nails being ripped off with big silver tongs, visiting people and working with different health professions. I've even given to injections! The first of which was to, low and behold, a nun. I think my second one was way more successful than the first, thanks to a lack of nerves, but I still have a feeling that that Sister has secured my place in hell for the time being...
Anyhoo, it's definitely been an eye opener, and it's been great meeting all the lovely nurses at the surgery, and even a rather nice fellow student nurse! I'm gonna be sad to leave really, but I still have another three weeks to go yet before it's all truly over. For the next fortnight I have to push through my EU Requirements, which entails visiting a nursery, Ward 3 and 4 at Dr Greys, and working with people with learning disabilities. It's a good line up really, and should be ace fun. Hopefully it will be, like the rest of it has been so far. Will keep this blog posted with the next few weeks of fun as and when I can.
Until then...
Friday 28 November 2008
Sunday 9 November 2008
An over-whelming sense of pride
Today was, of course, Remembrance Sunday.
So what better way to spend it than representing the respects of a most beloved world-known first aid organisation.
Caitlind, Shona, Christine and myself paid our respects at two Remembrance services; the first in Forres, the second in Keith.
After a warming cuppa at Shona's we headed down to Forres High Street to join the march there, where we brought up the rear of the parade. Caitlind and me very bravely decided to lay the wreath down ourselves, in front of many staring eyes, might I add. So we marched through Forres down to the statue and, because we were last in the parade, we were last to place our wreath upon the statue's aged remembrance plaque. It was a moment of immense pride, and that's what caught me most. The service as a whole was pretty emotional, and the purpose for which we were there just intensified it. To be a part of something that honors the veterans of war and those who died for their Queen and Country so that we may live freely in what was to them a distant future, is just asking for a tidal wave of emotion to well up inside you. To know that you're representing the one thing you're truly passionate about in doing so is what gets the water works on the verge of going. We stepped forwards, just us two, with Shona and Christine watching on the edge of the Guides squadron, and as we did so we caught the whispers of, "Ah, the British Red Cross are here too," which, personally, I found really increased the sense of pride in me. I also felt my pulse go up at a rate of knots; something which I definitely knew was happening in Caitlind as well. We climbed the stone steps together and Caitlind placed the wreath gently down upon the statue's base, then we stood back and bowed our heads in a silent salute to the names of those who died for "glory."
Once it was over and we had rejoined our fellow first aiders, the parade marched back through Forres and before we knew it, it was all over.
The four of us were frozen solid by the end of it, but there was no time to stop for a rest; it was back to the cars, turn up the heating, and speed on to Keith to get there in time for our second service.
We joked that our trips were resembling something along the lines of "Red Cross on Tour" and it could have been really, if we'd travelled to any more Remembrance services. Although I suppose there's only so many you can fit in in one day!
Anyhoo, we sped through to Keith and popped round to Alan and Kathleen's house for yet another cuppa, before heading down to the Legion (Alan and Kathleen are ace first aiders, for those of you who don't them...as are Shona and Christine, both of whom are a part of the Elgin RC branch - just thought I'd better make it clear for those who don't know who I'm on about!)
Keith's parade seemed a lot more...meh, formal, I suppose. The atmosphere was more serious in comparison with Forres, but maybe that was because there was six of us from the BRC this time, and we weren't stuck at the back. Instead we were slightly more within the parade, behind the T.A and air cadets. They proved helpful in keeping the time for the march, as did Kathleen, who's marching skills from her army days clearly haven't left her! The walk was longer too, and the crowds stood on either side of the road in almost total silence as we passed by, which really made the atmosphere all the more...sincere.
What was really ace though was the fact that us six British Red Cross volunteers, all wearing bright neon yellow, red-shouldered jackets with EMERGENCY RESPONSE TEAM displayed on their backs beneath the usual BRCS sign, were marching right in front of a team of St Andrew First Aiders, all clad in black. The only thing that out-did us slightly was their fancy-pants St Andrew's flag which they carried rather proudly.
Quick disclaimer: the British Red Cross and St Andrews, and come to think of it, St John, all work in harmony with one another as we are out there to do the same job, which is of course to preserve life and prevent the worsening of injury or sickness and be a comforting sign to the public, who we support in their time of need. Therefore there is no conflict between each first aid society; we support one another and take equal pride in our positions............it's just everyone knows the British Red Cross is better.
Anyhoo, moving swiftly on...
I knew there was a reason behind wearing our ER jackets today. Obviously it was just a ploy to try and fill St Andrews with envy of our amazingly cool, important-looking uniform. I know they eyed up my boiler suit when Caitlind and me walked through the bar area of the Legion, where everyone sat before heading out to join the forming procession.
Actually, that was quite funny, cos, if you can picture the scene for a moment: on one side of the room, there sat six BRC first aiders, in bright uniforms that you can see from several miles away, and on the other side of the room, there sat six or so St Andrew volunteers, dressed primly in their smart black outfits that would have fitted in at a funeral procession (I suppose you can guess who might've fitted in better with the march, on reflection). But it was almost like first aid team on first aid team. It felt like we were eyeing each other up at points; trying to work out who had the better uniform. I know us lot conversed over St Andrew's peak-rimmed caps. Not out of jealousy, by the way. I'd much rather just stick with the highly fluorescent jacket.
Perhaps I should leave this part of the blog post at that - I don't want to start anything here, or at least encourage anything that's been going on already.
So, the march through Keith was ace; was loving the regimental style. Maybe I should join the army, just for the marching...
What was also cool was when each leader of each squadron called to their group to "salute" to the important people (I'm nae uber knowledgeable of Remembrance Services really) and Alan actually shouted, "Red Cross, eyes right!" This order is pretty self explanatory - you turn your head to the right during the march as a salute to the important folk. To me, this was cool, cos everyone else got to do it in Forres when their leader shouted it, a part from us lot at the back, cos we just copied the Guides who copied the folk in front, which consequently meant no one shouted for us. It was just kinda ace cos it gave the RC some recognition in the march. As if our neon hi vis weren't recognition enough, ha.
The final 'perk' - if you want to call it that - of Keith's Remembrance Service was the third cup of tea that we got back at the Legion after the procession, with a sausage roll on the side. Notice the "a" - yes, we only got one.
But we were grateful; as Alan so rightly pointed out, "Someone died for that sausage roll you know!"
*****
"Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain."
'For the Fallen'
So what better way to spend it than representing the respects of a most beloved world-known first aid organisation.
Caitlind, Shona, Christine and myself paid our respects at two Remembrance services; the first in Forres, the second in Keith.
After a warming cuppa at Shona's we headed down to Forres High Street to join the march there, where we brought up the rear of the parade. Caitlind and me very bravely decided to lay the wreath down ourselves, in front of many staring eyes, might I add. So we marched through Forres down to the statue and, because we were last in the parade, we were last to place our wreath upon the statue's aged remembrance plaque. It was a moment of immense pride, and that's what caught me most. The service as a whole was pretty emotional, and the purpose for which we were there just intensified it. To be a part of something that honors the veterans of war and those who died for their Queen and Country so that we may live freely in what was to them a distant future, is just asking for a tidal wave of emotion to well up inside you. To know that you're representing the one thing you're truly passionate about in doing so is what gets the water works on the verge of going. We stepped forwards, just us two, with Shona and Christine watching on the edge of the Guides squadron, and as we did so we caught the whispers of, "Ah, the British Red Cross are here too," which, personally, I found really increased the sense of pride in me. I also felt my pulse go up at a rate of knots; something which I definitely knew was happening in Caitlind as well. We climbed the stone steps together and Caitlind placed the wreath gently down upon the statue's base, then we stood back and bowed our heads in a silent salute to the names of those who died for "glory."
Once it was over and we had rejoined our fellow first aiders, the parade marched back through Forres and before we knew it, it was all over.
The four of us were frozen solid by the end of it, but there was no time to stop for a rest; it was back to the cars, turn up the heating, and speed on to Keith to get there in time for our second service.
We joked that our trips were resembling something along the lines of "Red Cross on Tour" and it could have been really, if we'd travelled to any more Remembrance services. Although I suppose there's only so many you can fit in in one day!
Anyhoo, we sped through to Keith and popped round to Alan and Kathleen's house for yet another cuppa, before heading down to the Legion (Alan and Kathleen are ace first aiders, for those of you who don't them...as are Shona and Christine, both of whom are a part of the Elgin RC branch - just thought I'd better make it clear for those who don't know who I'm on about!)
Keith's parade seemed a lot more...meh, formal, I suppose. The atmosphere was more serious in comparison with Forres, but maybe that was because there was six of us from the BRC this time, and we weren't stuck at the back. Instead we were slightly more within the parade, behind the T.A and air cadets. They proved helpful in keeping the time for the march, as did Kathleen, who's marching skills from her army days clearly haven't left her! The walk was longer too, and the crowds stood on either side of the road in almost total silence as we passed by, which really made the atmosphere all the more...sincere.
What was really ace though was the fact that us six British Red Cross volunteers, all wearing bright neon yellow, red-shouldered jackets with EMERGENCY RESPONSE TEAM displayed on their backs beneath the usual BRCS sign, were marching right in front of a team of St Andrew First Aiders, all clad in black. The only thing that out-did us slightly was their fancy-pants St Andrew's flag which they carried rather proudly.
Quick disclaimer: the British Red Cross and St Andrews, and come to think of it, St John, all work in harmony with one another as we are out there to do the same job, which is of course to preserve life and prevent the worsening of injury or sickness and be a comforting sign to the public, who we support in their time of need. Therefore there is no conflict between each first aid society; we support one another and take equal pride in our positions............it's just everyone knows the British Red Cross is better.
Anyhoo, moving swiftly on...
I knew there was a reason behind wearing our ER jackets today. Obviously it was just a ploy to try and fill St Andrews with envy of our amazingly cool, important-looking uniform. I know they eyed up my boiler suit when Caitlind and me walked through the bar area of the Legion, where everyone sat before heading out to join the forming procession.
Actually, that was quite funny, cos, if you can picture the scene for a moment: on one side of the room, there sat six BRC first aiders, in bright uniforms that you can see from several miles away, and on the other side of the room, there sat six or so St Andrew volunteers, dressed primly in their smart black outfits that would have fitted in at a funeral procession (I suppose you can guess who might've fitted in better with the march, on reflection). But it was almost like first aid team on first aid team. It felt like we were eyeing each other up at points; trying to work out who had the better uniform. I know us lot conversed over St Andrew's peak-rimmed caps. Not out of jealousy, by the way. I'd much rather just stick with the highly fluorescent jacket.
Perhaps I should leave this part of the blog post at that - I don't want to start anything here, or at least encourage anything that's been going on already.
So, the march through Keith was ace; was loving the regimental style. Maybe I should join the army, just for the marching...
What was also cool was when each leader of each squadron called to their group to "salute" to the important people (I'm nae uber knowledgeable of Remembrance Services really) and Alan actually shouted, "Red Cross, eyes right!" This order is pretty self explanatory - you turn your head to the right during the march as a salute to the important folk. To me, this was cool, cos everyone else got to do it in Forres when their leader shouted it, a part from us lot at the back, cos we just copied the Guides who copied the folk in front, which consequently meant no one shouted for us. It was just kinda ace cos it gave the RC some recognition in the march. As if our neon hi vis weren't recognition enough, ha.
The final 'perk' - if you want to call it that - of Keith's Remembrance Service was the third cup of tea that we got back at the Legion after the procession, with a sausage roll on the side. Notice the "a" - yes, we only got one.
But we were grateful; as Alan so rightly pointed out, "Someone died for that sausage roll you know!"
*****
"Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain."
'For the Fallen'
Wednesday 5 November 2008
Welcome to the College, we have fun and games
In HNC Healthcare we can get up to a lot of non-medical related stuff. Usually it begins during a lecture, and we'll delve into the topic a little bit further out with class hours. On recent reflection, I've actually found myself giggling at some of the stuff we've spoken about, sometimes in utter seriousness, and thought it was worth posting.
So far we've discussed:
The theory that eating Kellogs Cornflakes for your breakfast can prevent you from becoming homosexual, can stop you masturbating, and is a "cure" for other sexual urges that may overrun your body.
This discussion began because our most dopiest of lecturers brought it up during Sociology one day, and we were keen to find out if it was true or not. The theory coming into existence is true, but not so sure if the actual statement is.
Scarlet magazine is not a porn mag for women, and is just a magazine which is highly informative in the realms of sexual topics...and images.
A copy of the magazine was pretty much marketed in our class today when someone brought it in for us to take a peek at. During Anatomy & Physiology was not the best time for doing this. All I can say is thank God the mag had an innocent make-up page we could flick back to to hide its true nature from our lecturer.
And then, to complete our final day in college before placements next week, we got to prod a pig's heart and lungs at the end of A&P, just for the randomness and because we wanted to see some blood and guts. We were promised that when it comes to doing circulation, and the respiratory and cardiac systems, we'd be allowed to disect a heart or two.
I'm just gonna make a point of saying that lungs feel well spongey :)
Finally, to round it all up, Becca, Rachael and me walked into town discussing America's politics, current and past.
I think this comment pretty much rounds up at least today's exciting installment of HNC Healthcare: "Reading porn magazines, prodding about with a heart and lungs, and now we're discussing politics. Check us!"
So far we've discussed:
The theory that eating Kellogs Cornflakes for your breakfast can prevent you from becoming homosexual, can stop you masturbating, and is a "cure" for other sexual urges that may overrun your body.
This discussion began because our most dopiest of lecturers brought it up during Sociology one day, and we were keen to find out if it was true or not. The theory coming into existence is true, but not so sure if the actual statement is.
Scarlet magazine is not a porn mag for women, and is just a magazine which is highly informative in the realms of sexual topics...and images.
A copy of the magazine was pretty much marketed in our class today when someone brought it in for us to take a peek at. During Anatomy & Physiology was not the best time for doing this. All I can say is thank God the mag had an innocent make-up page we could flick back to to hide its true nature from our lecturer.
And then, to complete our final day in college before placements next week, we got to prod a pig's heart and lungs at the end of A&P, just for the randomness and because we wanted to see some blood and guts. We were promised that when it comes to doing circulation, and the respiratory and cardiac systems, we'd be allowed to disect a heart or two.
I'm just gonna make a point of saying that lungs feel well spongey :)
Finally, to round it all up, Becca, Rachael and me walked into town discussing America's politics, current and past.
I think this comment pretty much rounds up at least today's exciting installment of HNC Healthcare: "Reading porn magazines, prodding about with a heart and lungs, and now we're discussing politics. Check us!"
Tuesday 4 November 2008
"Hello, Ambulance Service, how can we help?"
So it's Moto X again, and it's the last one of the year. The very last Moto X of 2008 - what a monumental occasion...in a way.
It's been rather quiet so far; not many casualties - none in fact - but the day is still young.
The "Terrible Twins," Caitlind and me, are on duty together. The A Team is more like it, but Ronnie likes to think otherwise. I think it just reinforces the fact that our reputation has now grown somewhat over the past year of Moto X, and now everyone has some kind of nickname for us. Everyone expects us to come as a pair now, like two for the price of one. It's ace.
So it's been pretty slow for us too, with not much really going on.
We head back from Red Start (the radio call sign for the start line of Moto X) and mosey around Red base - that's Red Echo 6 - for a while, listening to the sultry sounds of speeding motor bikes and warming ourselves in the back of the ambo with Bis, Charlie and Dominic (he's the newbie at the mo).
But suddenly Ronnie is led away to the aid of someone hidden amongst the arrangement of vans which are spread out across the muddy car park, and at some speed. At last, a casualty to interrupt our slow and steady duty. Charlie goes along to help out, and Dominic follows to observe. So does Caitlind, but it's not long before she returns.
"We need an ambulance," she says quickly.
"Ooh, I'm on it!" I say, with, admittedly, far too much enthusiasm.
So I dialled 999 and experienced the joys of calling for an ambulance.
That last sentence was said in a tone of sarcasm by the way - I know it's hard to tell via blog.
It's an easy thing to do, and I'm sure that, statistically, every day hundreds of people will do it across the UK. But I've never dialled for an ambo before, and to be honest never though I would have to. For me it was kinda like the type of thing to note down on my list of 101 things to do before I die; you say you'd do it, but you doubt you'd ever really get the chance to do so.
Which is stupid for me to think that, on reflection, considering that I'm a first aider who does a lot of duties and deals with a lot of incidents. It was bound to happen one day.
So it happened, and the ambo came, eventually, and the young casualty with a suspected head and neck injury was carted off to hospital without another problem (a part from the ambulance technician nearly knocking his nose off with his boot as he stepped over him.)
Anyway, after the "excitement" of the incident, Moto X returned to normal and the slow and steady pace came into effect again, which is, of course, fortunate.
But what a way to finalise 2008's spur of Moto X. Something was bound to crop up really; it was inevitable that the year should have a bigger finale than just peace, quiet and several good, fair races.
It's been rather quiet so far; not many casualties - none in fact - but the day is still young.
The "Terrible Twins," Caitlind and me, are on duty together. The A Team is more like it, but Ronnie likes to think otherwise. I think it just reinforces the fact that our reputation has now grown somewhat over the past year of Moto X, and now everyone has some kind of nickname for us. Everyone expects us to come as a pair now, like two for the price of one. It's ace.
So it's been pretty slow for us too, with not much really going on.
We head back from Red Start (the radio call sign for the start line of Moto X) and mosey around Red base - that's Red Echo 6 - for a while, listening to the sultry sounds of speeding motor bikes and warming ourselves in the back of the ambo with Bis, Charlie and Dominic (he's the newbie at the mo).
But suddenly Ronnie is led away to the aid of someone hidden amongst the arrangement of vans which are spread out across the muddy car park, and at some speed. At last, a casualty to interrupt our slow and steady duty. Charlie goes along to help out, and Dominic follows to observe. So does Caitlind, but it's not long before she returns.
"We need an ambulance," she says quickly.
"Ooh, I'm on it!" I say, with, admittedly, far too much enthusiasm.
So I dialled 999 and experienced the joys of calling for an ambulance.
That last sentence was said in a tone of sarcasm by the way - I know it's hard to tell via blog.
It's an easy thing to do, and I'm sure that, statistically, every day hundreds of people will do it across the UK. But I've never dialled for an ambo before, and to be honest never though I would have to. For me it was kinda like the type of thing to note down on my list of 101 things to do before I die; you say you'd do it, but you doubt you'd ever really get the chance to do so.
Which is stupid for me to think that, on reflection, considering that I'm a first aider who does a lot of duties and deals with a lot of incidents. It was bound to happen one day.
So it happened, and the ambo came, eventually, and the young casualty with a suspected head and neck injury was carted off to hospital without another problem (a part from the ambulance technician nearly knocking his nose off with his boot as he stepped over him.)
Anyway, after the "excitement" of the incident, Moto X returned to normal and the slow and steady pace came into effect again, which is, of course, fortunate.
But what a way to finalise 2008's spur of Moto X. Something was bound to crop up really; it was inevitable that the year should have a bigger finale than just peace, quiet and several good, fair races.
Jump-starting Ambulances.
First off, if I were to write a song, I would make sure it honed the title of this blog. Don't ask why, it's just a thought that came to mind. Sounds kinda...indie-ish...the kinda title Snow Patrol or The Fray would use...anyhoo, away from my mindless digressions.
It was a very Red Cross filled weekend this past Saturday and Sunday. Saturday was focused on Gordonstoun during the day, when Christine, Caitlind, Judith and myself covered round of hockey and rugby matches. Watching the hockey game put me slightly in mind of the film St Trinians (for those of you who haven't seen it, it involves a hockey game played by posh people gone mad - can you see the resemblance now?)
Hockey was, putting it mildly, boring.
And cold. Very cold.
Judith and me were left to cover two matches, which oddly enough lasted longer than the four matches observed by Christine and Caitlind further up the drive way in the top field. I'd love to know why; where's the logic to that?
Anyway, only two casualties (one per pair): Judith and me dealt with a bruised knee and grazed elbow, whereas the other pair handled a hockey-stick-in-the-face-type injury. It wasn't as bad as it sounds; no blood 'n' guts tale to tell this time.
After lunch came the rugby match, which was far more entertaining. Not the sport, no, no. Rather it was the fact that the four of us were able to cram into the front seats of Red Echo 8, the said vehicle being our ambulance which, when not modelled in ambo form, is effectively a renault van which are commonly seen here and there. So think of the front cabin of a renault-style van and contemplate the space and leg room. Not much really, when you want to squeeze in four people.
But we did it, and there we sat, listening to MFR and sending in requests for songs from "the Red Cross Crew," and of course we observed the antics of the rugby game too.
It was really good fun on reflection, and at least it was a lot warmer in there. Caitlind was so warm in fact that her side of the ambo kept steaming up, to which she commented, "I'm just hot stuff."
It's a reasonable enough explanation I guess!
So we left the Gordonstoun grounds, with Judith and me now in the back of the ambo where we belonged, and waved goodbye to the toffs of the school. To be precise, the two of us actually surfed out of Gordonstoun, because we attempted to stand in the ambo as Christine sped over speed bumps and down the drive way. I don't know how paramedics manage to stand up in an ambulance thats firing down the road - which is effectively a traffic slalem - at high speeds. It's definitelty a skill.
The ironic thing is that it was only when we were sitting down that I was thrown from my seat when Christine broke hard on a downhill slope. What's even more brilliant is that I was filming at the time, and caught it all on camera. Yup, I have the ability to laugh at myself falling off a chair.
Back at the office, one bumpy ride later, we prepared ourself for the next duty of the day; the Forres Firework Display. Christine was away to cover the fireworks at Port Gordon...I think...and went to start Red Echo 2 when......nothing happened.
Red Echo 2 was dead.
For some reason, the battery had become flat, most likely due to the fact that someone had forgotten to turn off the radio or interior light, and over almost two weeks Red Echo 2 had gradually drained its battery life to zero.
Consequently, it needed to be jump started.
So we fetched "the Bucket," or Red Echo 6, and hauled out the jump cables, and wired the two vehicles together. Christine turned the Bucket on and...still no glory.
By this point I had dondered outside to check on the progress of reviving our beloved Thuderbird, and Christine suddenly decided to make use of me.
"Go press the Bucket's accelerator!" She cried.
So, hopping into the front seat of the rickety old ambo, I did, and after a bit of pumping on the pedal.....there was still nothing.
In the end, I got fed up with the feeble pumping of the accelerator, and with one large push on the pedal, the engine revved loudly and Red Echo 2 chugged into life.
Yes, I thought, I've jump started an ambulance!
It's nae something you get to do everyday, so I was pretty chuffed over it. Small things, I hear you say, small things. But for me, it was cool :)
The fireworks at Forres was a nice easy duty to end the day's line of events, with no casualties (a part from Caitlind who cut her thumb when trying to break the plastic seal on a bottle of distilled water using blunt scissors) and a fireworks display to wrap it up nicely. An added perk was getting a chippie supper fae the Boss, so thanks to him for buying it. I'll give him the cash for it one day, I'm sure.
Another bumpy ambo ride home and the duties were done for the day. We even got dropped off at home, so when Red Echo 8 pulled up at the end of my street and I emerged from the back of it, I got a weird look from a neighbour who was standing outside puffing on a fag. God knows what he thought; maybe he was stupid enough to believe that ambulances now give people lifts home, rather than take casualties to hospital. It's the sort of look I got anyway.
It was a very Red Cross filled weekend this past Saturday and Sunday. Saturday was focused on Gordonstoun during the day, when Christine, Caitlind, Judith and myself covered round of hockey and rugby matches. Watching the hockey game put me slightly in mind of the film St Trinians (for those of you who haven't seen it, it involves a hockey game played by posh people gone mad - can you see the resemblance now?)
Hockey was, putting it mildly, boring.
And cold. Very cold.
Judith and me were left to cover two matches, which oddly enough lasted longer than the four matches observed by Christine and Caitlind further up the drive way in the top field. I'd love to know why; where's the logic to that?
Anyway, only two casualties (one per pair): Judith and me dealt with a bruised knee and grazed elbow, whereas the other pair handled a hockey-stick-in-the-face-type injury. It wasn't as bad as it sounds; no blood 'n' guts tale to tell this time.
After lunch came the rugby match, which was far more entertaining. Not the sport, no, no. Rather it was the fact that the four of us were able to cram into the front seats of Red Echo 8, the said vehicle being our ambulance which, when not modelled in ambo form, is effectively a renault van which are commonly seen here and there. So think of the front cabin of a renault-style van and contemplate the space and leg room. Not much really, when you want to squeeze in four people.
But we did it, and there we sat, listening to MFR and sending in requests for songs from "the Red Cross Crew," and of course we observed the antics of the rugby game too.
It was really good fun on reflection, and at least it was a lot warmer in there. Caitlind was so warm in fact that her side of the ambo kept steaming up, to which she commented, "I'm just hot stuff."
It's a reasonable enough explanation I guess!
So we left the Gordonstoun grounds, with Judith and me now in the back of the ambo where we belonged, and waved goodbye to the toffs of the school. To be precise, the two of us actually surfed out of Gordonstoun, because we attempted to stand in the ambo as Christine sped over speed bumps and down the drive way. I don't know how paramedics manage to stand up in an ambulance thats firing down the road - which is effectively a traffic slalem - at high speeds. It's definitelty a skill.
The ironic thing is that it was only when we were sitting down that I was thrown from my seat when Christine broke hard on a downhill slope. What's even more brilliant is that I was filming at the time, and caught it all on camera. Yup, I have the ability to laugh at myself falling off a chair.
Back at the office, one bumpy ride later, we prepared ourself for the next duty of the day; the Forres Firework Display. Christine was away to cover the fireworks at Port Gordon...I think...and went to start Red Echo 2 when......nothing happened.
Red Echo 2 was dead.
For some reason, the battery had become flat, most likely due to the fact that someone had forgotten to turn off the radio or interior light, and over almost two weeks Red Echo 2 had gradually drained its battery life to zero.
Consequently, it needed to be jump started.
So we fetched "the Bucket," or Red Echo 6, and hauled out the jump cables, and wired the two vehicles together. Christine turned the Bucket on and...still no glory.
By this point I had dondered outside to check on the progress of reviving our beloved Thuderbird, and Christine suddenly decided to make use of me.
"Go press the Bucket's accelerator!" She cried.
So, hopping into the front seat of the rickety old ambo, I did, and after a bit of pumping on the pedal.....there was still nothing.
In the end, I got fed up with the feeble pumping of the accelerator, and with one large push on the pedal, the engine revved loudly and Red Echo 2 chugged into life.
Yes, I thought, I've jump started an ambulance!
It's nae something you get to do everyday, so I was pretty chuffed over it. Small things, I hear you say, small things. But for me, it was cool :)
The fireworks at Forres was a nice easy duty to end the day's line of events, with no casualties (a part from Caitlind who cut her thumb when trying to break the plastic seal on a bottle of distilled water using blunt scissors) and a fireworks display to wrap it up nicely. An added perk was getting a chippie supper fae the Boss, so thanks to him for buying it. I'll give him the cash for it one day, I'm sure.
Another bumpy ambo ride home and the duties were done for the day. We even got dropped off at home, so when Red Echo 8 pulled up at the end of my street and I emerged from the back of it, I got a weird look from a neighbour who was standing outside puffing on a fag. God knows what he thought; maybe he was stupid enough to believe that ambulances now give people lifts home, rather than take casualties to hospital. It's the sort of look I got anyway.
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