If you were starting a members only forum, where would you start in writing and terms and conditions?
I expect it will be a reasonably mature discussion, but people are quite good at failing when you least expect it, and having a T&C to refer to when saying 'no that's not OK' would be quite helpful.

Any pointers?

TIM MINCHIN WAS TOTALLY TOTALLY AWESOME!!!

What a rockstar - combining as he does, the hair, the eyeliner, the frenetic piano playing with talk of meta-analyses and bell-curves. At one point he talked about reading a paper, and paused. 'Do any of you like reading papers?' - cheers ensued. 'Oh, I knew I'd love Oxford. It's like coming home.' <3 (How many comedians involve the phrase 'post hoc ergo propter hoc' in explaining their songs?)

One of the best moments was 'White Wine in the Sun' - all about Australian Christmas and having your family so far away. Little teary ex-pat moment there. Also brilliant was during a rather edgy moment (well, if you were trying to get a crowd to sing 'i love jesus, I hate faggots' to prove a point, you'd probably be on edge too), an usher started rushing down the aisle. This clearly put him off, at which point he suggested she should 'ush the fuck up'. But it's OK, after the show she explained, he apologised and they hugged. Awww.

So we totally stood in the cold waiting for a chance to meet Mr Tim, and we DID and he hugged us, and signed our bits of stuff, and was generally lovely. On learning I was from Melbourne, we had the following exchange
Tim: 'We're going to be in Melbourne in January, for about 6 weeks'
Me: 'Oh, but in January it's too hot - it's all humid and horrible'
Tim: *looks thoughtful*
Me: 'That's how I get through January over here'
Tim: 'Yeah, but you're just lying to yourself!'
Me: *hangs head*

Totally awesome gig. 

(warning: video features blackface and really awful racism)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wMAyGewq37w

I'm so ashamed of this: an absolutely revolting act performs on television in Australia, and it takes the only American in the room to point out the problem with 5 people dressing up in blackface and miming to Jackson five songs.

It makes me feel even worse that these 5 are doctors and surgeons, who apparently think this is a good way to spend their time. Not only because I am in some way 'in their group', but because it makes it very clear that the attitude which says this kind of thing is in *any* way OK, comes from people with education. Even worse are the hordes of people saying this kind of thing is OK in Australia because 'we have a different sense of humour to Americans'. Just no guys.

It's gut-wrenchingly embarrassing, and I'm very glad Harry Connick Jr was so articulate about what was wrong with this picture, but ick ick ick. Very ashamed to be associated, and offering a tiny voice that says this is not OK.

 I have
- my coffee
- The Age Saturday crossword, airmailed from Australia by my sister in law
- really yummy blood orange juice
- The whole weekend filled with plans to see nice people

This is good stuff.

The title of my last (locked) post came from the Velvet Underground song I had put on - 'Sunday Morning' This led to an impromptu challenge here which I thought was fun enough to share: can you find songs in your collection/playlist for every day of the week based on the title. This is obviously really only fun if you don't google/search iTunes. 

Have a go if you like, I'll post ours later
Sunday - 8! (plus 2 albums)
Monday - 4
Tuesday - 1
Wednesday - 1
Thursday -1 (spoken, a bit of a cheat to finish the set)
Friday - 1
Saturday - 4 (plus 2 albums)

Maybe it's because it's late, or because of the glass of Bailey's I had to help me sleep, or that this song was one that had particular resonance with me for many years when England was where my heart wanted to be. Or maybe it's that Lewis and Hathaway's love is true and pure, but this video is very very sweet:

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d6H17inC0bQ

I just did a very random drive-by of the college website, even though we were told to expect results next week...

...I PASSED!!!

I had to check a couple of times.

:D:D:D:D

(I discovered on starting the job that MANY of my contemporaries sat the exam at the same sitting as I did, so failure would have meant a sinking sense of being behind the curve. Oh Yay!!!! One year to pass part 3 now :D)

I spent most of July either in Australia or in a book. Besides which, let's face it, the weather in July this year was pretty rotten. So the August sunshine has been very well timed, and beloved and I have tried to make the most of it. Saturday afternoon we had a long ramble up the Thames to Port Meadow, across the Meadow (which is now dry in the centre!) to Walton Manor, through North Oxford to Parks. Here we found nothing so lovely to do as to lie in some dappled sunlight eating strawberries and listening to the obligingly rustle-y leaves of a nearby tree. Eventually the sun began to slip behind some clouds and we meandered home via G&Ds, where we acquired some mango sorbet.

As we walked along the river I was once more reminded about how often I'm inclined to play about on the river in something with oars. Don't get me wrong, punting is clearly the superior means by which to propel oneself up and down the Cherwell. However last year half a dozen of us took out some rowboats on Grassmere, and had a smashing time: I wanted to try it again. Maybe it's the excitement in Ratty's little speech I find so enticing:

'Nice? It's the only thing,' said the Water Rat solemnly, as he leant forward for his stroke. 'Believe me, my young friend, there is nothing - absolutely nothing - half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats. Simply messing,' he went on dreamily: 'messing - about - in - boats; messing - '

So today we went to Magdalen Bridge and DIDN'T take out a punt. We took out a little rowboat. First up we discovered the disadvantage of the rowboat:  you take up much more river width. So when the August Sunday afternoon has turned golden and glorious, and dozens of clueless tourists and summer students decide to try punting/rowing/peddaloes, you are rendered unable to manouvre, because they are in your oar space. However once we were south of the Botanic Gardens, the extra river width and the distance from the boathouse combined to give us much more freedom, and we rowed happily past Christ Church meadow, watching light glint off the water and making the meadow grasses glow. 

We had a midriver picnic of strawberries, pimm's and goat's cheese with crackers, and then braved the Thames! Then back up the Cherwell and home, this time taking the Hilda's branch, which was less crowded. exactlyhalf rowed most of the way our, and I rowed along the Thames and back. Combine this with today's gym visit and I'm beginning to feel my muscles creak. However after four months of driving every day and not having time to exercise, I'm enjoying the feeling of tired muscles and achey joints that signify I'm moving again.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/health/8177878.stm

Dear government,

So you decree that you can't allow my department and I to negotiate a contract where I work more than 48 hours a week but get more supervised time where I learn, but it IS alright for me to 'opt' to work extra hours to cover an understaffed rota?
And you say this knowing full well that the 48 hour limit means the rotas will always be understaffed*
So in effect, I'll continue to work well in excess of the hours, but it will be my 'choice' and therefore won't be reflected in my salary, which will be calculated on the basis of 48 hours. Furthermore, the extra hours will be harried and unsupervised, so won't do a lot to help me become a better doctor.

Next time you want to 'protect' me, could you just - um - not?

Thanks,
me


*NB That is to say, they will be understaffed because of the limit on training places. This whole thing could be fixed with more trainees, but you don't want that, because then you'd have to pay them as skilled consultants when they complete training.

Gloriously, I have only 3 more days as a GP, and will be back to the more chaotic world of hospital medicine next Wednesday. This means the end to my year of commuting - hoorah!

In celebration of this, I will be selling my car and reacquainting myself with my lovely bike. The good news is, that while my own test performance may have been mixed, Turk the Peugeot passed his MOT with flying colours! So I have a little car for sale, freshly serviced, MOT'ed and taxed for the next 12 months. If anyone is looking for a reliable if not beautiful [1], and very efficient [2] little runabout, get in touch. I'm looking at about £1000 or any reasonable offer.

/pimping

[1] Read 'green, and with a scratch on the side from some bastard at the hospital car park'
[2] Gets about 330 miles for £30 worth of fuel

 Well it certainly could have gone better. Mind you, everyone was a bit dejected, so it's hard to know. There's a reasonable chance I passed, and a significant one that I didn't. It's going to be sad if I didn't mainly because I did put in a lot of work this time around (and let a lot of things fall by the wayside to do so). But, the average is that most people have to sit this twice, and you're talking about a group of people who are distinguished by being reasonably good at exams.

That's about as much post morteming as I want to do. (Other than to say, I have no idea how, without having worked in a sheep farming area of country Australia, we were supposed to know about Orf virus in sheep farmers. Turns out some good did have to come from the hellish job in Horsham.)

In lieu of more angsting, have this, my new OTP

And now. to Arms. Gardener's Arms.

 New lows in humanity.

A radio show uses 'lie detectors' to have parents quiz their kids live on air (something like Jeremy Kyle/Jerry Springer I think), and Shock! It goes badly.

A summary is here
http://www.theage.com.au/national/call-to-sack-radio-hosts-after-girl-14-reveals-rape-on-air-20090729-e1ka.html

If you have a strong stomach, the clip is here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fV_bs6nt4qA (audio youtube, NSFW)

What particularly pisses me off about this (apart from the obviousness of the girl's mum being willing to exploit her in this way), is that the show is fine with a 14 year old girl being questioned about her sex life for shits and giggles, but baulks when they find out that her experiences might not have been consensual. She's 14! And there's an implication here, that if she'd had sex voluntarily (to the extent that a 14 year old can do so, and I'm not sure what that is), then she's a fit target for us to point at and pour opprobrium on. 

And it's truly amazing the number of times the hosts offer her 'counselling' - as some kind of sop for the torment they've inflicted on her. They do it almost as fast as they turn the full responsibility onto the girl's mother. They, of course, have clean hands, because they weren't hoping for anything so juicy. Bastards.

 It was quite surreal and claustrophobic to drive home through Wootton Bassett at 1pm.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk/8171805.stm
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/comment/personal-view/5771032/Wootton-Bassett-A-very-British-way-of-mourning.html

As I drove past the half a dozen camera trucks, I listened to a discussion on the radio about whether the media should stop intruding on the town's memorial. Work the irony.

 (yes, you can tell the proximity of my exam by the frequency of my posting)

I really enjoyed this series in the radio 4 6:30 slot recently, stand up comedy by an Iranian woman, mainly about cultural clashes in the UK
http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00lpmz7/Shappi_Talk_Episode_3/?from=r

Highly amusing if you generally like the Radio 4 kind of thing.
(Yes, Radio 4 featured highly in my answer to 'What do you like about England' on my recent trip to Oz. Because, you see, Australians assume that Australia is naturally superior to everywhere else in every way. The attitude that the English seem to manifest, that England is a bit crap and we're terribly sorry about that, probably doesn't help).

Because everyone love a good animal story!

 http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/asia-pacific/4627950.stm

Dear exam revision book authors,

Do you really think it was sensible to write an extended case study on panic symptoms in someone about to sit an exam? Really?? 
Damn tricksy psychiatrists.

As you were.

A terrible thing has happened to me.

My favourite grown up book store in Melbourne is called Readings. On my last visit there I bought a beautiful illustrated ABC for a child, a Leonard Cohen DVD for exactlyhalf (DVD of the concert we went to!), CD of the same for my dad, and the final installment of an Australian fantasy for myself (excellent series by Alison Croggan, a Melbourne poet. Plot is a trifle derivative, but the prose and characters are lovely, she has the opposite of race fail (and it's taken me this long to appreciate how great that is) and features some quite beautiful poetry/song) 
While I was there on a Tuesday evening it was full of all these urban looking people were drinking red wine from tumblers to celebrate the launch of a picture storybook. One such lovely person was one of exactlyhalf's oldest family friends, and being there was like a glimpse of heaven - books, music, red wine and lovely company.

Anyway, I've loved this store for a decade. And given the context of its being a bookstore, it's pretty obvious how the name should be pronounced, only...

I CAN'T STOP CALLING IT RED-DING. LIKE THE EFFING CITY.

DAMN

The truly embarrassing bit? I teased exactlyhalf mercilessly the first time he did that on a visit home. I've done it EVERY SINGLE TIME I've referred to it. Oh the shame *exaggerated woeface*

My 10 days in Australia are rapidly retreating into memory, being covered with semi-frantic study and the return to routine. (Jetlag has now abated, and been replaced by the familar 'graarrgh?' feeling when my alarm goes off.) The visit seemed made up of wonderful moments strung on a thread, interspersed with quiet and a restful feeling which is not terribly common for me.

Amongst the lovely moments were such diverse elements as

- Riding on a motorbike. I have something of a fear about these bests, but my dear friend Molichnaya (who is eminently sensible) was enamoured enough of BearMan's bike to get one herself, and they proposed we go get brunch on the bikes. I had a snugly fitting helmet and a vice-like grip on BearMan's belt, and only yelped once, as we drove down their steep drive. The entire journey was very brief, and surprisingly awesome.

Then again, Molichnaya and BearMan are all-round pretty awesome. Spending time in their Cheery House was lovely, and seeing the two of them really and utterly happy together in all their strangeness was a joy.

- Standing on top of a Queensland mountain watching two people come together like it was the one thing they wanted most in the world, and watching them each take the other into their keeping.

- Standing outside a Carlton restaurant with my newly wedded friends, happiness shining in their faces, discussing plans to meet at the Turf in December. Having half a dozen tipsy new friends declare that with such proximity of my home to aforementioned pub, I was their new bestest mate.

- Seeing my dad gleefully buy himself a Fedora, and looking about 10 years younger than I recalled.

- Excusing myself as I bumped someone in my very favourite bookstore of all, only to turn around and find it was a very old friend indeed.

- Cuddles with William, the miracle baby, who now weighs 11 times as much as he did when he came into the world 9 months ago. He is an absolute joy, full of smiles and wriggles. His parents show a kind of permanent astonishment in him and his being with them.

- Seeing staggeredlight  after her big operation. She's had a terribly difficult year, and came through a massive surgery like an absolute champion. She is an utter inspiration in the way she has met this challenge with such courage and humour, and in they way she sees straight to the heart of what matters.

 So apparently, getting up for work 40 minutes before leaving allows one time to shower, eat breakfast AND make lunch AND drink your coffee at home.

And leave on time.

Seriously guys, why did no-one tell me this? And the only price to pay for such early morning rising is a £700 plane fare and 2 days of my life flying to Australia and back. Wow.

 Jamie's Italian

The good
- Chilli and prawn linguine (nommmm)
- Fat polenta chips with rosemary and sea salt
- Fun pseudo-industrial aesthetic
- Barman who knew how to make a Lemon Lime and Bitters. 

The amusing
- The overapplication of adjectives on the menu. (Funky chips? Really? Funky? Also, shared plates come on 'planks'. )
- The fact there are *two* queues - the queue out the front of the restaurant is actually a preliminary to joining the queue at the bar. Oh you crazy kids

The improvable
- Actually, everything was pretty nice, and quite reasonably priced. Which didn't prevent us from sitting on the finalist who tried to pay for our meals.

Bed now.