Hello, dear reader!
This one won’t be original.
I know that’s a massive shock to the literal some (or more) of you who have come to expect thoughtful wit and endless variety from this blog and have only regularly been disappointed, but to tell the truth, at the moment, there’s only one game in town.
You see, as my Wúnderwifey, Tina, outlined in her blog post (which you can read HERE), last week saw her successfully navigate an interview to work in the NHS.
And I couldn’t be prouder.
So, this week, you gain a different perspective on this new and exciting chapter in our (but mainly Tina’s) life. Aren’t you just the lucky ones?
Wednesday 25 October 2023
Thursday 19 October 2023
Return To Work
Hello, dear reader!
So …. Apparently it's all change in the Rankin household, and it's my turn to write the blog—because rumour has it that I have had some good news this week. Are you sufficiently intrigued—then read on.
As some of you avid readers will be aware, I suffered quite a significant mental breakdown in 2021, which unfortunately resulted in me having to give up my job as a clinical support worker. I couldn't look after myself, never mind attempting to look after someone else! 2021 was ‘covid year’, and I had managed to work through some of the pandemic, keeping my client and myself covid free.
But then I broke in a way I never thought I would ever recover from. It was as if every trauma I had ever suffered, every difficulty, every pain, had all merged together in a hopeless yukky bleurghhhh. I was hardly functioning, and it took lots of effort from all who supported me to keep me from …. Well, I don't even want to think about what could have happened.
So …. Apparently it's all change in the Rankin household, and it's my turn to write the blog—because rumour has it that I have had some good news this week. Are you sufficiently intrigued—then read on.
As some of you avid readers will be aware, I suffered quite a significant mental breakdown in 2021, which unfortunately resulted in me having to give up my job as a clinical support worker. I couldn't look after myself, never mind attempting to look after someone else! 2021 was ‘covid year’, and I had managed to work through some of the pandemic, keeping my client and myself covid free.
But then I broke in a way I never thought I would ever recover from. It was as if every trauma I had ever suffered, every difficulty, every pain, had all merged together in a hopeless yukky bleurghhhh. I was hardly functioning, and it took lots of effort from all who supported me to keep me from …. Well, I don't even want to think about what could have happened.
Wednesday 11 October 2023
Dog Days
Hello, dear reader!
These are worrisome times.
Amongst the grey days, and lengthening nights a degree of anxiety has entered the Rankin household regarding the health and wellbeing of one of its members. Namely, Bonnie Rankin.
The dog.
These are worrisome times.
Amongst the grey days, and lengthening nights a degree of anxiety has entered the Rankin household regarding the health and wellbeing of one of its members. Namely, Bonnie Rankin.
The dog.
Wednesday 4 October 2023
Driving Force
Hello, dear reader!
I’ve been watching the odd snippet of the Conservative Party Conference and the reactions to the same this week. The rampant, self serving ableism, transgenderism, racism, and regionalism made a change from slapping myself around the head with my own orthotic boot, while providing the same masochistic thrill, blinding headache, and loss of intelligence and, as a bonus, left me with a piquant and enduring aftertaste of my own vomit, to boot.
And of course, one of the many headlines buried by the mainstream media about the conference have to do with transport—namely the HS2 sunken cost debacle which seems to have come uncoupled somewhere not all that far north of The Watford Gap—But that isn’t the transport I want to write about today.
No, today I want to discuss ambulances.
I’ve been watching the odd snippet of the Conservative Party Conference and the reactions to the same this week. The rampant, self serving ableism, transgenderism, racism, and regionalism made a change from slapping myself around the head with my own orthotic boot, while providing the same masochistic thrill, blinding headache, and loss of intelligence and, as a bonus, left me with a piquant and enduring aftertaste of my own vomit, to boot.
And of course, one of the many headlines buried by the mainstream media about the conference have to do with transport—namely the HS2 sunken cost debacle which seems to have come uncoupled somewhere not all that far north of The Watford Gap—But that isn’t the transport I want to write about today.
No, today I want to discuss ambulances.
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