The Great Adventure in Blightain – part III

Part three! Part three is here! Will I need to break it again? Find out in this episode!

Day two. We are in the building. We are sat down. Briefing commences. First aid class: underway. I will do some serious medicine. I will be… Bat-medic. Oh my god, why didn’t I think of that earlier?! Anyway… today is rather more outdoorsy stuff. Many people were only doing a one-day course on office first aid, so now it’s all a lot more relaxed.

The time is ripe for me to bring up bearsharks¹ again. Smiles, stares… it’s getting old. I decide to cut back. The morning is just classroom stuff. Or… is it? No, scratch that. We’re going outside to deal with someone with an injury. Blood is present. We also have a time limit.

The top score is (allegedly) 15 minutes, and we’re competing to beat that. Whether that is the actual time is debatable. I am put in charge for this and we are split into two teams. That’s one team under me, one team under mum (coincidental) and one casualty for each.

The casualty is a dude, happily unconscious (I prefer it that way) with a nice red swimming pool in his leg. Yeuch; I’m glad he’s out. I direct my team (efficiently, if I do say so myself) through the ABC’s² and Primary Survey. Then, concluding there is nothing wrong with him other than the MASSIVE BLOODY HOLE in his shin, we start to heal him.

And he’s bandaged up. One large, bloodstained dressing later and his leg is mostly covered up. Mostly. The small red crater must be left to rot; that little bastard plagued me on day one as well and I hadn’t been called out then. Anyway, we’re done in under the time limit. “We’re done!” The yell is quiet but satisfying. Moments later, the other team is done too. Close call.

Lunchtime! Back we march, happy to have beaten the top score and happy to be going back into the warm dry class. A lunch of champions – no, scotch eggs and raspberries, and it’s over. No scream today. The afternoon is… the great outdoors. Out we march and… helmets..? Why are there helmets out here? Apparently, we have to take these off.

Oh, what’s that? Without killing anyone? I see. This may require effort. So… I will be the headrest. I will hold the head, and I will take off the helmet. I use my legs as a headrest. Well done me. Then it’s time for a real challenge. We have to bandage up a guy with a huge gash, a busted arm, possible spinal injuries and… diabetes, we learn.

You see, I was given (on day one) a hint: on day two, outside, the devious buggers were going to hide some stuff in the clothing of the casualties. I wasn’t told what they’d be, where they’d be or when they’d be hidden. But it was a big help anyway. Because guess what we find? An insulin injector.

So, we start off. “Be as thorough as you can,” I say while working out the map with Nicola. We have to grid-reference our location, ditto the nearest 24-hour service (capable of calling an ambulance) and find the quickest and safest route there. I am busy doing this when I’m called over to help keep the guy steady as they move him up so he isn’t pressed against the tree.

He screams. He passes out. I hold him.

Another medic does (to my annoyance) the map. The guy is checked again. He’s bandaged up and stuff, but my legs are screaming from holding him up. We’re on a bit called the Slippery Slope of Death, by the way. Go figure. He’s slipping, my legs are dying and the ground’s sloping. Hence the name.

I ask (loudly) for someone to replace me. Help comes. It feels freaking awesome when my legs are freed. I am free! The pain is going! Anyway, he passes out shortly after the bandaging. Then, as I read the Manuel at them, Nicola goes off. The course is plotted; she’ll take three-odd hours to get to the destination. Woo.

Then there’s a lot of rummaging while I sit there as (basically) a weight for our first aid fanny-packs. Bloody hell! What are they after? And, triumphantly, one of them pulls out a wallet. And an insulin injector. Which meeeans… he’s diabetic. Oh well, we should have looked harder. Still, at least our group found it (mum’s didn’t).

Then it’s time for another exercise. This time I’m the casualty. And the injury is, quite coincidentally, a broken arm. Wowee. The treatment is a EuroSplint, of the exact same type that was used to splint me in UB. The splinting is done with only one bad joke (“Limoncello” is NOT the “freshest transformer”) and otherwise all goes smoothly.

Then the last and shortest challenge: fix a twisted ankle. Okay, so there’s this bandage, right, and it sticks to itself like clingfilm. So we use that, and she’s okay, but then she says she feels faint, right, and then she passes out. So yeah, I ask Manuel the Manual and he says that she’s got compression. Diagnosis complete, level complete. Woo.

Anyway, that’s that. Now, my feelings. Erm… private.

¹Bearsharks were a running gag during the first aid course, starting with day one when we made charts of all the things we’d have to consider. I was with the group for “Environment” and… well, let’s just say they fell under the category of “Environmental Hazards”. They’re 50% bear, 50% shark and 100% deadly. Well, one breed is. The other just flops about and drowns.
²Airways (anything in their windpipe?), Breathing (are they breathing?) and Circulation (blood flowing?) check.

How it Feels Leaving Britain… Again or my Adventures in Great Blightain

Hello, people! I think I know what you want to hear, so… I am in Dahab. I am sitting at the helm of my PC. We arrived yesterday. I am now going to tell you about how crap it feels to leave home. It feels… upsetting. I wanted more time there. But it also feels… good. As in, good to be leaving the cold.
Good to be leaving the government, the rain, the… airport. I think it felt best to leave the airport. The other places were likable, in their own way. Except the government. I won’t miss them, the oily, cynical bastards. Not that I saw them.
Anyways, it was sad. For a start, I didn’t get nearly enough time with my friends. No sir. In conclusion, I didn’t get enough time to see relatives. I might have felt a bit better, in hindsight, if mum hadn’t been plastered right up to the point at which she woke up in Luton. And then later sort of blamed me for her missing tickets.
Enough whining, though. I can’t write an entire post about how sad I felt on the plane to Geneva (and then Sharm). So, let’s start with Kinder Castle. What is Kinder Castle? A castle. A CASTLE. David rented it. David is a futures trader. David is a lord.
Seriously. We gave him champagne (well, fizzy). The others gave him such things as cufflinks, a jumper, a “Bathtub Duck Shoot” set and… a lordship. Yes, my cousin is now Lord David. He owns a square metre of land in Obscuristan, Scotland. Okay, I lied. Obscuristan isn’t in Scotland. It’s in Siberia.
I don’t know what he’ll do to his square metre. I’d be impressed if he could find it. Anyway, it’s probably got a crappy tree on it or something. But anyway. Kinder Castle. Kinder Castle is a small, well-kept castle in the Peak District. It’s owned by the National Trust or something.
It was built during the European Dark Ages, but restored during the 17-1800s to make it the perfect English “Summer” home. Well, I say Summer… you know what I mean. That time of year when the sun shines down upon the world… then quickly hides because Britain’s appeared.
Anyway. I enjoyed that. But what did I actually do? Hm, good question, quote mark-free person in my head. I… watched an awful lot of TV. I… shot things with the water pistol that came with Dave’s bath toy. And I flew a kite. That’s mostly it.
Sure, I played with Dave (they had a Wii), I messed about, I iced a mini-cake, I… built a fort. Oh yeah, that. Minor detail. I figured out that the Sky box in the lounge worked, and then I noticed the huge array of cushions and footrests that would help with my fort. And I thought it was a good idea.
Not everyone was happy with the new arrangement. But I liked it, and I thought it was cool. Even when I had to deconstruct it at checkout time. So, I spent most of the time in my fort, with the telly. I spent some time with other stuff. But… it was the fort that mattered. Really.
So, erm… yeah. Telly, fort, water, cake, kites… yeah. Then we drove off. Then we drove back, a day later, for a first aid course. CPR, metal-splint-things… OKAY, ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. I will continue this in another post. Stay tuned for first aid, airports and… probably kittens.

©blah blah blah lawyers blah 2013 blah lasers blah

My Yummy Curry

Hello readers! I’m tapping out another recipe!
You will need:
•Chicken (breast or leg bit)
•Coriander (preferably ground)
•Cumin seeds
•Ground turmeric
•Cayenne pepper (again, ground)
•Salt
•Liquid stock (or chicken oxo and water)
•Frying oil (or congealed beef dripping)
•A big saucepan
Instructions:

  1. Chop the chicken into chunks. Put some oil into the pan and heat .
  2. When the oil (or dripping) is sizzling, put maybe five chunks in, and repeat when the chunks are all white.
  3. After the chicken is done, add around three teaspoons of turmeric, half a teaspoon of cumin, half a tsp. of coriander, and a quarter tsp. of cayenne pepper.
  4. Taste regularly. It should have turned canary yellow. Add stock and restore to former shade and taste (well, nearly). Add salt and pepper at will.
  5. Tastes satisfactory? Serve. If it’s too spicy, use yoghurt. It goes well with rice.
  6. Enjoy! :P

OM NOM NOM!

Blightain tomorrow!

Hi readers! As of tomorrow, I will be back in Blightain (that’s Britain for all you uneddicated folks) and probably deep frosted. I’m happy about it, even though it will get dark at around ten to four in the afternoon. It’ll be fun. I hope.
And who knows, maybe it’ll snow. Snow is better with friends. Oh, and I also sell ads now. :D Aaanyways, right now, I am in S’pore (Singapore) with friends. I’ve enjoyed staying here. OK, back to my plans.
Fred (my BF) will of course be in London, and we’re gonna have a sleepover. And then he’ll spend a couple of days in Norfolk, with me and my grandparents. What are you doing for Christmas? Gimme your feedback!