Blue is the warmest colour

It seems like you can pretty much use "art" as an excuse for sharing your darkest fantasies of hairless lesbians getting it on to the world. And I'm sure artists don't just talk about sex all the time. I mean, fuck, sex is just sex in the end, no matter how you dress it up in fancy words or images.

Maybe I'm just a prude. Maybe there was a reason why I was the only single male in the audience that didn't look vaguely like a creepy old man (I hope).

Graphic sex scenes apart though, it really is quite an interesting film. And the barbican's rapidly becoming my favourite place in london.

Twitter

If you can distil your thoughts to a few characters, why utter a word more? Especially with this daily assault of senseless conflicting verbiage taunting, pulverising our overworked souls.

Macklemore & Lewis

OK I know I'm a little late, but these dudes are amazing. (Pity I can't link the songs in the album individually here)

Letting Go.

Fuck, I just can't seem to let go.

Movie scene

So I started people-watching while having a meal alone in this restaurant. Three tables adjacent to mine were occupied by three middle-aged individuals - the business executive, blackberry in hand, typing out emails in between courses; the lone lady, ipad in hand, enjoying her meal in solitude, and this 50-ish male I couldn't quite place. He had headphones in during his meal (white, connected to his ipod), a tablet of some sort (an ipad, I presume), and with his rimless spectacles, checkered shirt, manicured hairless head and quiet demeanor seemed like he could be some advertising exec, or architect, or similar.
All seemed superficially at ease with having a meal alone.

And then I went to watch despicable me 2, alone.

I suppose I could get used to this, being alone, in a large city. (OK so Manchester isn't exactly large, but still)

Well I'd better start getting used to it anyway.

Sweets

So I was walking home from hospital when I was beckoned to this young man who'd obviously had a little too much to drink, sitting outside the hospital.
He said, "I just parked at ASDA (couple of miles away), my friend dropped me here, and I just visited a mate whose mum's just passed away. I've had a little too much to drink", after a pause, "would you have some spare change to buy some sweets to freshen up?"

So I gave him my packet of fisherman's friends.

A different species?

Just done two days of obs&gynae and I've experienced the following:
- A telling me how young I look/I must be a medical student*
- B asking me to write diamorphine (IM) because she couldn't do IVs
- C asking me to change an anaesthetist's prescription of IV (intravenous) fluids post-op from 1000ml of Normal Saline to Hartmann's (over 10 hours) because "pushing in that amount of salt would push the lady's BP up through the roof"**
- D urging me to do urgent investigations on a poor lady whose heart rate had gone up to 140 after struggling back from the toilet a few hours after giving birth (other observations completely unremarkable)***
- E asking me to partake in a natural delivery because I was around the ward (now I've got my mugshot stored forever in some random lady's facebook profile just because I was around when that beautiful moment**** happened - even though I hadn't done anything!!)

Wow.

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* Although looking at the faces of those labouring ladies of similar age, with their years of alcohol abuse/hardship etched onto their bodies (link between poverty and alcohol use, stress, etc etc from the time spent in public health etched firmly into my mind), I can understand why.
**Admittedly, this was an agency (ie temporary) mid-wife - and a regular mid-wife and I shared some sniggers and eye-rolling when she'd gone. Which I suppose brought some light into our dark days - she'd been due to return home at 3pm and I 5pm when it'd been 615pm.
Oh for amount of salt in a bag of 'normal saline' for non-medical readers, have a look at this. I hadn't realised there was soooooo much salt in a bag before this.
Although Hartmann's does contain a marginally lower amount of salt, in percentage terms.
***Ok she had had lost quite an amount of blood during delivery, which probably hadn't been fully replaced, so she had the right idea there. I just didn't appreciate being hurried every 5 mins to do further investigations, when I'd had a perfectly decent conversation with the patient who felt perfectly fine. And did an absolutely thorough (proper) examination (with husband present, I must emphasise).
****E was really really nice. Although I can totally empathise with men who lose interest in sex after watching a baby's birth. The lady's partner was there and rather brave, I thought. The sight is definitely not for the faint-hearted - don't believe it when they say it's beautiful - it's not. At all. Although there's something strangely moving about childbirth, I wonder if it's ingrained in us? Sort of a primitive 'lump-welling-up-in-throat-when-faced-with-extreme-agony' reflex?
Oh and after assisting in a C-section (now actually doing the violent pushing/pulling instead of just watching) as well I am seriously thinking of becoming celibate in the not-too-distant future.

So can't be a surgeon because I like my raw steak, and can't do obs&gynae because I don't intend to remain celibate for the rest of my life.

My female housemate burps like a middle-aged uncle who's just drunk two pints of beer.

Job interview.

Just saw an interview for a barista whilst minding my own business at the corner of cafe nero today. Mind you, it was held right smack in the middle of the seating area. Manager(? - one of them at least) and interviewee dressed informally. Interesting questions re managing conflicts in workplace and service. And interesting post-interview discussions between 2 interviewers.
I guess they have nothing to hide. And nowhere private to hold the interview in, really.