Oh my God.
I'm excited. Monday will bring a new chapter in the RC family life; the Boss is getting interviewed because two lil munchkins might have let slip to a certain forthcoming awards ceremony that our most wonderful Service Manager is worthy of a bit of recognition.
*ahem* the Daily Record "Our Heroes 2009" Awards *ahem*
I was going to wait a little bit longer before blogging anything about it, but to be honest I just couldn't wait.
We've nominated him for the Our Heroes Caring Category, or whatever it is that it's called, because we think he certainly is one of thee most caring people we have ever met.
So Monday brings a film crew to the RC office to document some of his most brilliant work and hear from other members of the gang about just how admired he really is.
He told Caitlind and me earlier to wear our boiler suits for the occasion - showing off a bit of the old RC flashy fashion! Nothing like a spot of promotion when you can grab the chance.
But my only problem is - if I have to say something about him for the film, then how the hell am I gonna fit into words the sheer admiration and appreciation I feel for this most amazing man; the most amazing man I've ever had the privilege to meet, befriend, work alongside and call dad.
Friday, 24 April 2009
Thursday, 23 April 2009
One Day We Dance, the Next, we Need an Ambulance.
Moto X varies greatly, as I am sure, if anyone has read my previous Moto X posts, people have come to realise.
Here is an example:
Saturday 11th April - the Moto X Scottish Enduro Championships. A very big competition, and as quiet as a morning in bed (obviously apart from the background soundtrack of motorbike engines).
I think the only thing we dealt with casualty-wise was a suspected broken toe, which ended up being diagnosed as dislocated.
So what did Judith, Caitlind, Christine and my good self do all day?
We played music through the stereo of Red Echo 2, which has a rather impressive bass boost system. People enjoyed it so much we came to be known as the day's entertainment. In fact, we may have had to turn the volume up slightly on one or two occassions, such was the need for our music factor.
Of course, such awesome pop-tacular music tracks just invited folk to come up and dance, and this is exactly what Christine and I decided to do. And Caitlind, when Christine finally managed to wrestle her to the make-shift dance floor.
We danced the day's dullness away, oh yaas!
But on the other end of the scale...
Sunday 19th April - the second championship races on that boiling hot day brought a broken finger, a bashed hand, a suspected spinal and sore head, and a crushed foot. Of course, the most severe case was the suspected spinal - a younger lad who was clearly frightened and in a lot of pain. So we applied a collar, slid him onto a spinal board, strapped him in, and I dialled for an ambulance. Again.
The paramedic team were great; they were with us in no time and had whisked the boy away to hospital almost as soon as they had arrived. Plus they were really kindly with the lad, who by now must have been pretty worried what with all the precautionary straps and restraints on
him.
And in between all the casualty drama, the Boss popped by to say hello, riding in style on his own amazing Dragstar motorbike which put all the other muddy dirtbikes to shame.
I think the most complex part of that day however, was trying to get our bloody spinal board back from the Ambo crew who took it.
Amy and me walked into A&E and spoke with the very nice receptionist who had only just come on shift, and clearly had no clue what was happening just yet. We told her about the incident, and about the ambo crew consequently stealing our board. She went to have a look - no where.
"Go ask the paramedic crew at the ambulance base."
So we went, with Yvonne following us in RE2. We rang the door bell, and after a while one of the crew members who had attended our call, answered the door.
"We don't have it here, it'll be up at A&E."
"We've tried that, but no joy."
"Well, go and pester the receptionist again."
*big sigh*
Amy and me returned to A&E and as we walked in, the side doors suddenly opened. There, at the far end of the corridor, leaning against the wall and minding its own business, was our spinal board, complete with collar.
"Should we ask if we can take it?" Amy queried, looking nervously down the corridor.
I thought for a moment, but then the notion took hold.
"Nah, let's just grab it."
So we nipped down the corridor, checked the board for our logo - which it had - then swiped it and escaped out of A&E without another word.
Jeeso, usually you just nip in and grab it from reception, but clearly Amy and me have that not-so-simple effect, hehe.
Anyhoo, now you see the sheer difference between moto x events. That's why we love 'em so.
Here is an example:
Saturday 11th April - the Moto X Scottish Enduro Championships. A very big competition, and as quiet as a morning in bed (obviously apart from the background soundtrack of motorbike engines).
I think the only thing we dealt with casualty-wise was a suspected broken toe, which ended up being diagnosed as dislocated.
So what did Judith, Caitlind, Christine and my good self do all day?
We played music through the stereo of Red Echo 2, which has a rather impressive bass boost system. People enjoyed it so much we came to be known as the day's entertainment. In fact, we may have had to turn the volume up slightly on one or two occassions, such was the need for our music factor.
Of course, such awesome pop-tacular music tracks just invited folk to come up and dance, and this is exactly what Christine and I decided to do. And Caitlind, when Christine finally managed to wrestle her to the make-shift dance floor.
We danced the day's dullness away, oh yaas!
But on the other end of the scale...
Sunday 19th April - the second championship races on that boiling hot day brought a broken finger, a bashed hand, a suspected spinal and sore head, and a crushed foot. Of course, the most severe case was the suspected spinal - a younger lad who was clearly frightened and in a lot of pain. So we applied a collar, slid him onto a spinal board, strapped him in, and I dialled for an ambulance. Again.
The paramedic team were great; they were with us in no time and had whisked the boy away to hospital almost as soon as they had arrived. Plus they were really kindly with the lad, who by now must have been pretty worried what with all the precautionary straps and restraints on
him.
And in between all the casualty drama, the Boss popped by to say hello, riding in style on his own amazing Dragstar motorbike which put all the other muddy dirtbikes to shame.
I think the most complex part of that day however, was trying to get our bloody spinal board back from the Ambo crew who took it.
Amy and me walked into A&E and spoke with the very nice receptionist who had only just come on shift, and clearly had no clue what was happening just yet. We told her about the incident, and about the ambo crew consequently stealing our board. She went to have a look - no where.
"Go ask the paramedic crew at the ambulance base."
So we went, with Yvonne following us in RE2. We rang the door bell, and after a while one of the crew members who had attended our call, answered the door.
"We don't have it here, it'll be up at A&E."
"We've tried that, but no joy."
"Well, go and pester the receptionist again."
*big sigh*
Amy and me returned to A&E and as we walked in, the side doors suddenly opened. There, at the far end of the corridor, leaning against the wall and minding its own business, was our spinal board, complete with collar.
"Should we ask if we can take it?" Amy queried, looking nervously down the corridor.
I thought for a moment, but then the notion took hold.
"Nah, let's just grab it."
So we nipped down the corridor, checked the board for our logo - which it had - then swiped it and escaped out of A&E without another word.
Jeeso, usually you just nip in and grab it from reception, but clearly Amy and me have that not-so-simple effect, hehe.
Anyhoo, now you see the sheer difference between moto x events. That's why we love 'em so.
Wednesday, 8 April 2009
Operation Flipper is a-go!
Return to Carbisdale... Sounds like a movie title =P
But we did return to the gloomy castle of Sutherland, and for an even bigger exercise which I feel is worthy of a title that defines it as a bigger & better sequel to the original ER adventure. Sounds exciting, doesn't it?
However, someone decided the Search and Rescue exercise actually befitted the title "Operation Flipper." I think it had something to do with the Swift Water Rescue input, and for this reason the big boss Ian waltzed around with flippers on the Saturday morning to illustrate the pun.
But titles aside, it was a Search & Rescue operation with a difference. It involved more than 100 RC volunteers taking on a variety of roles, members of the Coast Guard team, the police with their S&R dog, input from fire fighter personnel, helicopters and skywatch search planes, and a number of people from the press, including P&J journalists and a reporter fae STV. Not to mention all the Red Cross ER vehicles from each of the RC groups, stretching from the Inverness area right through to Aberdeenshire. We even had the giant Unimog up from London, just to complete the ensemble.
It was almost a hectic experience. People were rushing about all over the place; in the upper hall folk were trying to organise Logistics, the Comms base, casualty groups, and outside vehicles were being loaded with gear and being allocated drivers. The hubbub throughout the castle was immense. There was certainly some kind of energy zipping about between people; a live wire of adrenaline which everyone was sharing.
On the earlier hours of Saturday morning myself and the younger members of the team mingled with school kid volunteers from local Dornoch Academy, and were shuffled into a number of groups, with an allocated leader, and thrown out into minibuses to be transported to the wilderness of Sutherland, where the hills rolled far and the Glens ran deep. Sounds nice, and once we were cast out amongst the heather and rivers beneath blue skies and sunshine, it was picturesque and pleasant. But as my little group of five walked further out through the valleys, winding our way down tracks and purposefully getting ourselves more and more lost, the optimism about the weather began to fade. The sun would disappear for spells of snow and wind, then reappear again. It proved the unpredictability of weather out in the hill and mountain ranges.
Still, at least we weren't stuck in fast-flowing rivers, swollen with snow-melt, unlike some unfortunate Swiftie volunteers...
Anyway, eventually we found ourselves far from where we began, which was a sheltered, snug wee bothie on the hillside; easy to find and where the majority of the casualties were hiding. Instead, we had discovered a gully which offered some protection from the wind and a fine place to hide from our rescuers; our intentions were to make life difficult for the teams who came to find us.
So we sat, and we waited, and we endured the heavy snow falls, the showers of hail, the icy wind which whipped through the gully and churned up the cold waters of the river which flowed beside us. Our entertainment was a "riveting" game of eye-spy, until that died out. Then it was joke telling, or thinking of songs to sing, or musing about what the rescue teams were actually doing out there, and wondering how everyone else was getting on. We snacked on our packed lunches, and laughed over what technical injuries we could have to stump our rescuers.
One hour passed.
Then two.
The boss said the majority of casualties would be found by three o'clock.
Three hours.
That's 3 o'clock.
Four hours.
A rescue plane flies over head. Our leader sets off a flare, and the plane flies low, tipping its wings to acknowledge our signal. Thank God - we're gonna be rescued!
Four hours and 45 minutes...
...By this time my friend Judith was starting to grow seriously colder - despite her eight layers - and her blisters were beginning to sting with the damp and cold. The other two girls from Dornoch Academy were huddled beneath a make-shift tent, and were becoming worryingly cold.
As for me, well, my 11 layers were keeping me very snug, and our leader clearly wasn't having any issues either. But the snow, wind and wet had taken its toll on all of us. We contacted Comms and told them our predicament; we were to start walking back through the Glens and rescue ourselves.
Fifteen minutes later we're met half way through a valley by two friendly and familiar faces; our own boss Steve and Ronnie. Friendly, familiar, and weary faces.
Close behind them and their quad is a 4x4, and finally a ride back to the bothie is organised for us.
Back at the bothie, five hours later from when we first made camp in the gully, we're back on a mini bus and taken 'home' to the castle, for warm tea, dry clothes, and food.
Such was the Saturday. But don't get me wrong; although we weren't rescued, the exercise as a whole was a great success. I know this sounds a bit... well, incomplete... but at the end of the day, people gained experience and learnt new skills - skills which could be worked on and sharpened, so that in the event of a real incident, things could run like clockwork. This was made evident on Sunday's exercise; welcome in the S&R dogs...
But we did return to the gloomy castle of Sutherland, and for an even bigger exercise which I feel is worthy of a title that defines it as a bigger & better sequel to the original ER adventure. Sounds exciting, doesn't it?
However, someone decided the Search and Rescue exercise actually befitted the title "Operation Flipper." I think it had something to do with the Swift Water Rescue input, and for this reason the big boss Ian waltzed around with flippers on the Saturday morning to illustrate the pun.
But titles aside, it was a Search & Rescue operation with a difference. It involved more than 100 RC volunteers taking on a variety of roles, members of the Coast Guard team, the police with their S&R dog, input from fire fighter personnel, helicopters and skywatch search planes, and a number of people from the press, including P&J journalists and a reporter fae STV. Not to mention all the Red Cross ER vehicles from each of the RC groups, stretching from the Inverness area right through to Aberdeenshire. We even had the giant Unimog up from London, just to complete the ensemble.
It was almost a hectic experience. People were rushing about all over the place; in the upper hall folk were trying to organise Logistics, the Comms base, casualty groups, and outside vehicles were being loaded with gear and being allocated drivers. The hubbub throughout the castle was immense. There was certainly some kind of energy zipping about between people; a live wire of adrenaline which everyone was sharing.
On the earlier hours of Saturday morning myself and the younger members of the team mingled with school kid volunteers from local Dornoch Academy, and were shuffled into a number of groups, with an allocated leader, and thrown out into minibuses to be transported to the wilderness of Sutherland, where the hills rolled far and the Glens ran deep. Sounds nice, and once we were cast out amongst the heather and rivers beneath blue skies and sunshine, it was picturesque and pleasant. But as my little group of five walked further out through the valleys, winding our way down tracks and purposefully getting ourselves more and more lost, the optimism about the weather began to fade. The sun would disappear for spells of snow and wind, then reappear again. It proved the unpredictability of weather out in the hill and mountain ranges.
Still, at least we weren't stuck in fast-flowing rivers, swollen with snow-melt, unlike some unfortunate Swiftie volunteers...
Anyway, eventually we found ourselves far from where we began, which was a sheltered, snug wee bothie on the hillside; easy to find and where the majority of the casualties were hiding. Instead, we had discovered a gully which offered some protection from the wind and a fine place to hide from our rescuers; our intentions were to make life difficult for the teams who came to find us.
So we sat, and we waited, and we endured the heavy snow falls, the showers of hail, the icy wind which whipped through the gully and churned up the cold waters of the river which flowed beside us. Our entertainment was a "riveting" game of eye-spy, until that died out. Then it was joke telling, or thinking of songs to sing, or musing about what the rescue teams were actually doing out there, and wondering how everyone else was getting on. We snacked on our packed lunches, and laughed over what technical injuries we could have to stump our rescuers.
One hour passed.
Then two.
The boss said the majority of casualties would be found by three o'clock.
Three hours.
That's 3 o'clock.
Four hours.
A rescue plane flies over head. Our leader sets off a flare, and the plane flies low, tipping its wings to acknowledge our signal. Thank God - we're gonna be rescued!
Four hours and 45 minutes...
...By this time my friend Judith was starting to grow seriously colder - despite her eight layers - and her blisters were beginning to sting with the damp and cold. The other two girls from Dornoch Academy were huddled beneath a make-shift tent, and were becoming worryingly cold.
As for me, well, my 11 layers were keeping me very snug, and our leader clearly wasn't having any issues either. But the snow, wind and wet had taken its toll on all of us. We contacted Comms and told them our predicament; we were to start walking back through the Glens and rescue ourselves.
Fifteen minutes later we're met half way through a valley by two friendly and familiar faces; our own boss Steve and Ronnie. Friendly, familiar, and weary faces.
Close behind them and their quad is a 4x4, and finally a ride back to the bothie is organised for us.
Back at the bothie, five hours later from when we first made camp in the gully, we're back on a mini bus and taken 'home' to the castle, for warm tea, dry clothes, and food.
Such was the Saturday. But don't get me wrong; although we weren't rescued, the exercise as a whole was a great success. I know this sounds a bit... well, incomplete... but at the end of the day, people gained experience and learnt new skills - skills which could be worked on and sharpened, so that in the event of a real incident, things could run like clockwork. This was made evident on Sunday's exercise; welcome in the S&R dogs...
The second exercise of the weekend was smaller, with a greater emphasis on the swifties - they traversed up the loch and sailed the incoming tidal waves, much to the delight of the STV camera crew who got some pretty good footage (see below).
Meanwhile, far away from the valley's water, hidden deep in the woods on the far side of Carbisdale Castle, sat myself, wee Nicole, and our leader Dick. We had hiked a good distance to reach a far off point in Sutherland's woods, and now we sat awaiting rescue, keeping our eyes peeled for the first aid team. Time dragged a little, but after watching distant skywatch planes dart across the loch, and listening to Nicole's ace supply of music on her iPhone, the first aid team was spotted. And just as we though we were about to get rescued... Nicole's mum phoned.
Now, she phoned with a plan.
A small team of police had arrived with their newly trained S&R dog, and wanted to be a part of the operation. Mine and Nicole's orders were the following; to lose ourselves deeper in the woods and lie still - don't make a sound. When the police arrive, wait for the dog to find us. Simple as.
So, we ran - ran through the undergrowth and dived (Action Man style in Nicole's case) beneath the branches of a tree in a small thicket. And there we waited, playing hide 'n' seek with the occasional skywatch plane which flew overhead. I even turned my hi-vis jacket inside-out to avoid standing out like a sore thumb. It was too late though, I think.
After a while, we heard the arrival of our S&R team, and suddenly the shout of a burly office echoed through the woods; "Stay still and no harm will come to you!"
"Oh God..." we thought, as worry flickered across our faces and we let out a nervous giggle.
Suddenly a huge black Alsatian appeared over the heather and sniffed us out as quickly as he had come. After standing on Nicole, and slobbering on me (typical) it sat down quite happily and triumphantly barked out its discovery. Then a police officer arrived, and before we knew it, so did the first aid team.
Such was our Sunday afternoon; lying in heather and pine needles, playing hide 'n' seek with not only planes, but police dogs too. We even did it again several times, to give the dog some practice. I've gotta say, that scenario was way better than the previous day's excursion.
So, I suppose with my account complete, I guess it's best to let STV sum it up for me.
*Note - I do not own any of this footage, I was just sad enough to video it off the internet one evening when I found it. Copy right STV*
Enjoy:
Sunday, 22 March 2009
Please Don't Call the Emergency Services...
Trauma.
Everywhere, bloody trauma... and a whole lotta nervous first aiders.
And who could blame them, with several near-death casualties, each watching their every move, judging their every action and reaction, decision and skill, as they faced each scenario with first aid kit by their side and PRF in hand.
Yes, we were back in the sleepy village of Clochan for the real-deal Trauma Management assessments. This meant proper blood-covered casualties, with shorter time scales and more complex scenarios to handle. But despite the tears, tantrums and occasional confusion and lack of self-belief that comes with such nerve-wracking challenges, I'm glad to say that everyone on the course passed.
It was a good weekend for letting people show off their talents in first aid, and learn new ones too. It was even more fun pushing them to their limits as we writhed in agony with broken limbs, or lay deathly quiet on the ground and unconscious to the world, or stumbled about as drunken idiots, covered in tomato soup and complaining of pain that was coming from somewhere but we weren't quite sure where (don't ask).
In fact, the scenarios looked so realistic that we needed to put up reassuring signs on the car park gates: THIS IS A FIRST AID EXERCISE. PLEASE DO NOT CALL 999.
Classic.
Now, us casualties have just been told that our trauma management weekend has in fact been booked for August *gulps*
It'll be time for a bit of role reversal as we become the first aiders, under pressure of the ever watchful eyes of Alan; thee know-it-all first aider extraordinaire who we all love =] (not sucking up at all...)
Good thing I've got plenty of time to practice then...
Everywhere, bloody trauma... and a whole lotta nervous first aiders.
And who could blame them, with several near-death casualties, each watching their every move, judging their every action and reaction, decision and skill, as they faced each scenario with first aid kit by their side and PRF in hand.
Yes, we were back in the sleepy village of Clochan for the real-deal Trauma Management assessments. This meant proper blood-covered casualties, with shorter time scales and more complex scenarios to handle. But despite the tears, tantrums and occasional confusion and lack of self-belief that comes with such nerve-wracking challenges, I'm glad to say that everyone on the course passed.
It was a good weekend for letting people show off their talents in first aid, and learn new ones too. It was even more fun pushing them to their limits as we writhed in agony with broken limbs, or lay deathly quiet on the ground and unconscious to the world, or stumbled about as drunken idiots, covered in tomato soup and complaining of pain that was coming from somewhere but we weren't quite sure where (don't ask).
In fact, the scenarios looked so realistic that we needed to put up reassuring signs on the car park gates: THIS IS A FIRST AID EXERCISE. PLEASE DO NOT CALL 999.
Classic.
Now, us casualties have just been told that our trauma management weekend has in fact been booked for August *gulps*
It'll be time for a bit of role reversal as we become the first aiders, under pressure of the ever watchful eyes of Alan; thee know-it-all first aider extraordinaire who we all love =] (not sucking up at all...)
Good thing I've got plenty of time to practice then...
Saturday, 14 March 2009
+Manchester National Assembly '09+
Better late than never!
Picture the scene - early on Friday morning, a large coach pulls up outside Elgin Red Cross HQ. it looks lush, comfy; a decent bus to be wasting around 9 hours of your life on, with a luxurious burnt orange and vomit-yellow coloured interior. Nice.
We run to the back row, and make ourselves comfortable. With Radio 2 playing loud 'n' proud from the overhead speakers, we set off on our incredibly long journey to no other place than Manchester...
It really did take ages. No joke. Thankfully we had several pit stops along the way to kill any monotony. But just cos it took a while, doesn't mean it wasn't a fun road trip. We actually had awesome back-of-the-bus-banter yet again as we traversed the winding motorways through Scotland's picturesque hill-land, across the borders and into the sudden flatness of Englandshire.
On-board entertainment included Radio 2, DVDs, the best of Kenny Rogers, photo shoots, story telling,joke telling, almost running over bad drivers as they cut in front of the bus after overtaking, iPod guessing games, and squashing Graeme on the back row until his face turned purple.
Off-board banter included cursing slow cash machines, deciding between Burger King and another random diner-style cafe for lunch, racing each other to the toilets, piggy-back races (to the amusement of several lorry drivers as well as our rather large gang of first aiders), buying Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream, admiring England's unusually level countryside, and speaking in broad Scots lingo to the locals of our English rest stops.
And finally, after all 9, 10 or however many hours it took to get there, we reached the suburbs of Manchester. We looked out of our windows eagerly as we continued on through the city centre, waiting to catch a glimpse of our home for that night. Then suddenly, as we hit the busy central roads, we saw it - MacDonald Hotel. We were there yet again, a whole year on. I personally marvelled at that fact, because in the space of a year, we had all changed quite a bit. And if it wasn't appearances that had changed, it was definitely relationships. Last year had been good in my eyes because I was getting the chance to meet everyone and bond with them; it was sort of eliminating my newness as a member of the team. This year was great because we all knew each other for the better, so our closeness throughout the trip was immense. Now that we were at the actual hotel, the prospect of decent food and bar-banter really put the feather in the cap for the whole team =]
So, after checking in, checking out the rooms, and tucking in to a decent bit of buffet, we began to make ourselves comfortable in our posh accommodation. Once again, the North Scotland Crew, in all our entirety, dominated the best seats in the bar, and made merry with the drink we bought <smuggled> in. As the night wore on, some people - once again - became slightly drunker than others. They all know fine who they are; be thankful I'm not naming any names... this time...
BUT... Graeme did do a fantastic rendition of the Scouting/Guiding favourite "Boom-Chika-Boom," to which myself and Lauren graciously joined in with. Thank God we've got it on video.
Yes, it will be uploaded as soon as I get a copy.
Yes, it is really entertaining, because yes, he is indeed drunk.
So the night wore on, and with an early start the morn we eventually drifted off to bed, leaving the drunken company of our fellows behind.
Some lucky sods slept... Caitlind... but othersdidn't. It didn't help that there was every ER vehicle from each emergency service in the Manchester area screeching past our window every five seconds. It also didn't help that the room was very hot, and I needed the loo, but I was fearful of trying to walk straight in the dark.
Yes, that is me admitting to my also slight alcoholic-walking-issue that comes with several of Graeme's Turbo Shandies... amongst others...
Anyhoo... the morning finally came, and somehow we all managed to face a cooked breakfast before setting off on our morning jaunt down to the conference centre, to witness the almighty presentation that is the British Red Cross Manchester National Assembly 2009!
Beautiful irony here - as we all gathered on the hotel steps for a group photo, an ambo pulled up at the entrance on blues 'n' twos. We imagined a right dogpile of first aiders all eagerly trying to help the poor collapsed soul within. Of course, Maggie, in her ability to lighten any situation with the mostappropriate lines, shouted, "Alright, who ordered the taxi?!"
We found it hilarious - the pair of wifie paramedics probably didn't - but it was worth it.
I of course hope that whoever was in dire need of medical assistance got it, and is now alive and well =]
So, the assembly!
Well, it was pretty much the same as last year, with more heart-wrenching stories to tug the tears from our eyes, and more exhibition stands displaying an abundance of freebies - some people looked as though they'd been on a shopping spree; saying no names! There were even nice little RC mugs on the go... as Steve says, the finest bone-plastic money can buy!
What made this year's assembly different though was the Awards for Excellence ceremony we had going on, complete with its own titles and funky bass-beat theme tune, which Ian and me totally liked, going by the bopping of our heads every time it came on.
It was a nice touch - the ceremony I mean, nae the music - and it was good to honour some of the amazing things the Red Cross has been doing throughout the UK, and overseas.
Of course, all good things must come to an end, and after heart-felt songs from young carers, indepth and thought-provoking interviews from several volunteers, reflective videos of the crisis' the organisation has been continually supporting throughout the years, and a birthday tribute to the Battle of Solferino and therefore the birth of the Red Cross, four o'clock came.
It was time to smuggle out our name cards and board the bus for home.
The journey home almost mirrored the journey there, except it involved a lot more sleeping... and therefore silence... until Lauren and me turned on my iPod and pretty much crucified every once-decent song in existance which happened to come on. I actually think we worked our way through all 598 songs! Not singing them all, of course, just a healthy balance of listening too. Although it's an insentive for next time... moo ha ha...
Long story short - for it has been a long story so far - we dropped everyone off at their respective ports of call, before us Elgin crew finally returned to HQ at half past one on Sunday morning. Bleh... it was a total groggy-feeling moment.
Seriously, you feel well rough after spending several hours on the same vehicle, watching crappy films about rogue cops who end up shooting everyone in sight but turning out to be innocent even though they ended up burning down half a building to prove that they were a good guy after all... ?
But also seriously, ManNA is one of thee best trips to go on with your RC chums, especially if they're anything like the people who I know and love.
We may be a big gang when we get together, but we all know one another, and there is still that strength of friendship and, to an extent, family, which we share with one another through thick and thin. I like the idea of a Red Cross family. I do indeed see them as a second family.
After all, as I said to Caitlind the other day, you don't need blood to class someone as family; you can have family through the love of friendship too.
And on that corney conclusion, it's goodnight from her, and goodnight from her.
Picture the scene - early on Friday morning, a large coach pulls up outside Elgin Red Cross HQ. it looks lush, comfy; a decent bus to be wasting around 9 hours of your life on, with a luxurious burnt orange and vomit-yellow coloured interior. Nice.
We run to the back row, and make ourselves comfortable. With Radio 2 playing loud 'n' proud from the overhead speakers, we set off on our incredibly long journey to no other place than Manchester...
It really did take ages. No joke. Thankfully we had several pit stops along the way to kill any monotony. But just cos it took a while, doesn't mean it wasn't a fun road trip. We actually had awesome back-of-the-bus-banter yet again as we traversed the winding motorways through Scotland's picturesque hill-land, across the borders and into the sudden flatness of Englandshire.
On-board entertainment included Radio 2, DVDs, the best of Kenny Rogers, photo shoots, story telling,
Off-board banter included cursing slow cash machines, deciding between Burger King and another random diner-style cafe for lunch, racing each other to the toilets, piggy-back races (to the amusement of several lorry drivers as well as our rather large gang of first aiders), buying Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream, admiring England's unusually level countryside, and speaking in broad Scots lingo to the locals of our English rest stops.
And finally, after all 9, 10 or however many hours it took to get there, we reached the suburbs of Manchester. We looked out of our windows eagerly as we continued on through the city centre, waiting to catch a glimpse of our home for that night. Then suddenly, as we hit the busy central roads, we saw it - MacDonald Hotel. We were there yet again, a whole year on. I personally marvelled at that fact, because in the space of a year, we had all changed quite a bit. And if it wasn't appearances that had changed, it was definitely relationships. Last year had been good in my eyes because I was getting the chance to meet everyone and bond with them; it was sort of eliminating my newness as a member of the team. This year was great because we all knew each other for the better, so our closeness throughout the trip was immense. Now that we were at the actual hotel, the prospect of decent food and bar-banter really put the feather in the cap for the whole team =]
So, after checking in, checking out the rooms, and tucking in to a decent bit of buffet, we began to make ourselves comfortable in our posh accommodation. Once again, the North Scotland Crew, in all our entirety, dominated the best seats in the bar, and made merry with the drink we bought <smuggled> in. As the night wore on, some people - once again - became slightly drunker than others. They all know fine who they are; be thankful I'm not naming any names... this time...
BUT... Graeme did do a fantastic rendition of the Scouting/Guiding favourite "Boom-Chika-Boom," to which myself and Lauren graciously joined in with. Thank God we've got it on video.
Yes, it will be uploaded as soon as I get a copy.
Yes, it is really entertaining, because yes, he is indeed drunk.
So the night wore on, and with an early start the morn we eventually drifted off to bed, leaving the drunken company of our fellows behind.
Some lucky sods slept... Caitlind... but others
Yes, that is me admitting to my also slight alcoholic-walking-issue that comes with several of Graeme's Turbo Shandies... amongst others...
Anyhoo... the morning finally came, and somehow we all managed to face a cooked breakfast before setting off on our morning jaunt down to the conference centre, to witness the almighty presentation that is the British Red Cross Manchester National Assembly 2009!
Beautiful irony here - as we all gathered on the hotel steps for a group photo, an ambo pulled up at the entrance on blues 'n' twos. We imagined a right dogpile of first aiders all eagerly trying to help the poor collapsed soul within. Of course, Maggie, in her ability to lighten any situation with the most
We found it hilarious - the pair of wifie paramedics probably didn't - but it was worth it.
I of course hope that whoever was in dire need of medical assistance got it, and is now alive and well =]
So, the assembly!
Well, it was pretty much the same as last year, with more heart-wrenching stories to tug the tears from our eyes, and more exhibition stands displaying an abundance of freebies - some people looked as though they'd been on a shopping spree; saying no names! There were even nice little RC mugs on the go... as Steve says, the finest bone-plastic money can buy!
What made this year's assembly different though was the Awards for Excellence ceremony we had going on, complete with its own titles and funky bass-beat theme tune, which Ian and me totally liked, going by the bopping of our heads every time it came on.
It was a nice touch - the ceremony I mean, nae the music - and it was good to honour some of the amazing things the Red Cross has been doing throughout the UK, and overseas.
Of course, all good things must come to an end, and after heart-felt songs from young carers, indepth and thought-provoking interviews from several volunteers, reflective videos of the crisis' the organisation has been continually supporting throughout the years, and a birthday tribute to the Battle of Solferino and therefore the birth of the Red Cross, four o'clock came.
It was time to smuggle out our name cards and board the bus for home.
The journey home almost mirrored the journey there, except it involved a lot more sleeping... and therefore silence... until Lauren and me turned on my iPod and pretty much crucified every once-decent song in existance which happened to come on. I actually think we worked our way through all 598 songs! Not singing them all, of course, just a healthy balance of listening too. Although it's an insentive for next time... moo ha ha...
Long story short - for it has been a long story so far - we dropped everyone off at their respective ports of call, before us Elgin crew finally returned to HQ at half past one on Sunday morning. Bleh... it was a total groggy-feeling moment.
Seriously, you feel well rough after spending several hours on the same vehicle, watching crappy films about rogue cops who end up shooting everyone in sight but turning out to be innocent even though they ended up burning down half a building to prove that they were a good guy after all... ?
But also seriously, ManNA is one of thee best trips to go on with your RC chums, especially if they're anything like the people who I know and love.
We may be a big gang when we get together, but we all know one another, and there is still that strength of friendship and, to an extent, family, which we share with one another through thick and thin. I like the idea of a Red Cross family. I do indeed see them as a second family.
After all, as I said to Caitlind the other day, you don't need blood to class someone as family; you can have family through the love of friendship too.
And on that corney conclusion, it's goodnight from her, and goodnight from her.
Sunday, 1 March 2009
And on the side of things...
Here's just a side note...
...I passed my driving test last Wednesday =]
Had to be said.
*beams*
...I passed my driving test last Wednesday =]
Had to be said.
*beams*
It's T.T Time!
By T.T, I don't mean T-total... that's still applicable until Manchester NA on Friday night =]
No, what I mean is this weekend was in fact Trauma Management training, and muggins & Co became casualties for the two days, getting bloodied up (again) and freezing our asses off for people to treat us.
Apart from the potential hypothermia, it was actually an ace weekend. Saturday was a workshop day, which Caitlind and I observed/joined in with on the odd occassion, with today (Sunday) consisting of several scenarios set up to test the skills of our unsuspecting first aiders. Now try saying that last line when you're drunk!
It was interesting watching everyone, and experiencing the different ways in which groups treated you. Everyone had their slightly different methods of dealing with your injury, and admittedly some were slightly better than others!
So rather than letting words describe, I'll let pictures do the talking instead.
Ambo Ambo, woop woop!
Stage One - the gluing process...
Final stage - the full thickness burnage!
Secondary survey - this is how Red Crossers break the ice; if you didn't know someone before, you will now.
Advanced airway management... of sorts
Bag, Valve and Mask - can be confusing!
The rather attractive and one-of-a-kind BRC woolly hat, which a colleague gave me for added warmth during a scenario. On discovering I pretty much suited it, I stole it for the rest of the day. I now have my own one =]
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