Apart from my acknowledged interest in all things Avian, and
my microtibialistic (Ed:
Not a word in my dictionary, but he likes to be unique) tendencies,
a joint interest Mary and I enjoy is people-watching (not a hobby in which I
suspect we are alone) and people chatting.
The latter sometimes can be one way, in other words we talk
to people who are happy to talk about themselves, but show no interest is us.
OK fair-do’s, we probably instigated the conversation. But we do meet some people who can be
interesting (and some that we regret starting the conversation with!)
An example this week was discovering that someone I had
known for several years, had recently become an undertaker. We were on holiday
in Cyprus a few years ago when we met an undertaker, and he had some tales to
tell!
But alongside the aura of sadness, despair, tears and dark
colours (usually) my friend told me that he and his fellow 3 undertakers have a
lot of laughs. The mournful and respectful persona can be turned on and off as
appropriate, but whilst the cadaver is in transit the accompanying 4 pall
bearers carry on as normal and have the same observational opportunities that I
refer to above for Mary and me.
I was told some amusing trade secrets, which I feel honour
bound not to recount (a bit like the secrets of the Magic Circle), but I can
reveal that certain items are not permitted in a coffin that is to be cremated.
Examples of the exclusions are, for good reasons, 1) Shoes - a
definite no-no, which will be removed before the coffin is closed (the components
and chemicals in shoes can cause damage to the incinerators), and 2) glass - removed due to the risks from flying glass in the intense 1400F to 1800F fire.
I was told of one family who added a jar of Bovril to the
coffin “He loved Bovril” (applying rule 2 above, he won’t get it!). And
acceding to a request to dress the deceased in her wedding dress, was only achieved
with the astute use of a pair of scissors. (well it did fit 30 years ago!).
And another example of meeting people. My high profile with the DSS over the last 3
years, has led to a disproportionate number of blood checks, and I have met many phlebotomists, with many and varied skills. This skill is measured by the bruising or lack thereof in the blood letting procedure.
Tuesday I was sent to the blood surgery waving a 2-page
document with requests for 10 different blood tests. With the unusual situation
of hardly any queues, my donations were taken by a young, enthusiastic and
newish nurse, who was quite happy to talk about blood tests.
Knowing that all sample bottles have different colour corks
I was intrigued to see her refer to an indexed type address book to see which
colour was needed for each of my 10 tests. The conclusion was that in my case 3 colours would apply, including a red cap.
She told me that each sample phial can hold enough blood for up to 10 different
tests, but in some cases a whole phial is needed for just one test.
What I did not know was that some phials already have an
ingredient (reminiscent of police and customs, who mix a sample from a questionably
packet and the colour identifies the drug type.). In these cases, the blood
sample starts its reaction with the ingredient already in the phial.
The red-cap is apparently the purest sample, nothing being
added, and is the first one taken when a series of samples are needed. The
nurse showed me her “order of draw” list as there is a strict sequence of
colours to avoid any cross pollution.
You will know about my aversion to and my wish to drive out the words “so” and Like”. I am instigating another protest which in my small
way I can implement.
I have long felt that it is an invasion of privacy when, in
the course of making a purchase, I am asked for my name. This I have
encountered (since the campaign started) in Domino Pizza, and Starbucks.
Whilst it is perhaps better to be recognised as a living
person, as opposed to the MacDonald’s way of giving me what is equivalent to a
raffle ticket, I have decided that if Domino wants to put a name on the pizza
box, or the Starbucks Barista wants to write my name on a plastic cup. I will
henceforth use a name which is unique to me, but not mine.
This I was able to put into operation yesterday when I purchased
a take-away Pizza. With 10 minutes to wait and leaving for a stroll I was asked
“What name was it?” Refraining from replying “The same one as now”, I answered
Mr Crow. (It could have been Mr Finch, Mr Bunting, Mr Swift, and many others,
which would not even give rise to a chuckle, but Mr Crow nicely tested my
scheme.)
Returning in due course, and waiting with a group of patient
customers, I stepped forward proudly in response to the call “Mr Crow?”. I’ll let you know when I get to something
more courageous like, Gannet, Dipper or Plover.
QI fact time. 254 years ago, on 14th April
1865, Abraham Lincoln was shot in a theatre in Washington.
You will by now appreciate that my bird watching activity
this week has been Zero. But I was thrilled to be told that the Swift nest
boxes that were to be erected to recognise my 21 years as a volunteer at Carsington,
have been put up this week. Ranger Mike
Thompson, who is also a birding enthusiast supervised and organised the 4 double
nest boxes at the visitor centre, and we look forward to later in the year when Swifts
are not only heard screaming around the centre, but also breeding in or more of
the boxes.
This is what the two of the double nest boxes looks like.
I’m sorry you have been deprived of virtually any birding
news this week, but knowing what I am
doing in the next 7 days and how I will make up for this deficiency, please check me out on the 21st
April. I will have birded somewhere for the first time ever!!
Happy Birding
