Just a warning for all you humour lovers; this isn’t a funny post (or a Moroccan disaster post), more a reflective one. You can switch off now if you want… Continue reading
Medical spin and the sleep study
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Monthly Archives: June 2011
*,,;&’*”-).
Im hoping the statute of limitations has passed on this one and everyone involved has retired When I was working as a research assistant at the other Hometowny university I was given a very important job by the head of the school Could I oversee the printing of the end report for a very large five year programme of work It was going to take the form of a big glossy brochure to be mailed out to everyone and their dog Continue reading
The dutyfree thief
Richy, Petey and I were on our way back from a trip from Amsterdam. They had both been working and I’d had a chilled time (including my first experience of a flotation tank). Anyway, as usual there was a cock up over flying times and Petey got us to the airport about 5 hours before we had to. We all got so bored hanging around, drinking endless cups of coffee and dozing, that we nearly missed the call for our flight and ended up running to the gate. Once in our seats there was an announcement over the tannoy. Someone had taken a passenger’s dutyfree Gitanes at the hand luggage x-ray. Continue reading
21st birthday bundle
A few years ago, we were all invited to Danny’s 21st party. It was being held in a big old pub in Hometowny and the party was in full swing when Richy Rich and I arrived with all the kids. As we walked through the lobby, a strapping young guy leapt on top of Richy and wrestled him to the ground in an arm lock. Me and the kids stepped over the pair of them and made our way to the bar.
“A pint of Carlsberg, pint of London Pride, four cokes and an orange juice, please”, I asked the girl serving behind the bar.
“I think he liked me”, said Richy, tucking his shirt back into his jeans, as he joined us at the bar. We made our way to a table near the disco.
Credits: Thanks to Mary (and Danny) for a great evening. A sneaky ‘big up’ to My life My Choice..
Bonkers conkers
I came across this in the park. Exactly as I’ve taken it. Thought it was a bit odd, or maybe someone having a chuckle.
Chicken bone man
We live in an area with a lot of very colourful characters. Hegel Bagel, for example, is probably the world’s greatest Hegellian scholar but hasn’t managed to work out the rules of ‘conventional’ studying, so has his academic discussions in the aisles of the Co-op, on street corners or occasionally our kitchen. Another guy does an amazing line in make-up which looks great with his long, white hair. There is a couple whose relationships seem to be based on regular, public, spectacular arguments, and our neighbour, Roger, who walks round to the Co-op, every day, very, very slowly, dressed in a very smart suit, to buy a pasty to eat at 10.15am. Continue reading
The professor and the petrol station
Richy and his mate, Petey*, a renowned professor in politics, were chatting in the hall. LB wandered past, looked carefully at Petey’s shirt and said “Do you work in a petrol station, Petey?”
* Pseudonym
My night with the pigeons
I was invited to a workshop in Ottawa last September, all expenses paid. Very nice. I decided to the extend the trip by booking an extra night myself. I booked my one night, in the same hotel, on Expedia. I arrived at the Elgin Hotel early evening. My room (Expedia) was pretty rubbish; dark, overlooking some enormous drum things, but as it was only one night and already evening, I didn’t think it would matter. 
About 8pm a terrible sound started, like the groaning and howling of an old ship engine. It was relentless, oppressive and SO LOUD. Continue reading
The EEG and the asylum
A freshly hatched post for once. Laughing boy had a mobile EEG unit fitted this morning. The neuro person, Noreen, was very chilled as she carefully superglued the electrodes to his scalp. Once LB had gone through his usual questions – “What’s your name?”, “Where were you born?” “How old are you?” “Have you got a boyfriend?” “How old is he?” “What does he do?” – he went back to chuntering about other stuff. I realised he was getting naffed off with the lengthy process when he started going on about asylums, straitjackets and an evil attendant called Noreen. Continue reading
The sperm and the flotation tank
Right. I’m going to heavily anonymise this one (for obvious reasons). I LOVE flotation tanks. Now a number of years ago, I went to a local flotation tank place on a Sunday afternoon and had a blissful, relaxing float. The next day, I went to where I was working temporarily and bumped into Richy Rich who was chatting to some geezer, (Prof) Neville Bunting. He was raving about his weekend which had included his first experience of a flotation tank. 
“Wow, what a coincidence”, I said, so excited to find someone who liked flotation tanks. “I had a float at Hometowny Float Palace yesterday afternoon”. “No way!”, he replied, “When were you there?” “Five o’clock…”, I said. “That’s funny, we must have been in just before you”, he continued. Er. Back up a minute. We? “We?” I said. “Well yes, you know, I gave the receptionist a bit of the old charm and she let my girlfriend go in with me and…”, he said, smirking, “let’s just say, we certainly floated”.
EEEEUUGHH. That was the last float I had.
A few months later I was pregnant and heard that Neville and his partner were having a baby too. Aaawww. Bless. Nine months after the float I gave birth to a lovely bonny baby. Looking out of the window of the maternity ward, I saw Neville walking across the car park with a set of balloons and a cuddly toy.
All true.
mydaftlife 