I've been having issues, recently.
I'm single and happy. That's a fact. My last relationship ended really badly, disillusioning me towards humans for a while. My ex, whose name I'll withhold for legal and obvious reasons, and I had been together for 2 and a bit years, on and off. By the end of that period we were different people, and we'd grown apart. Me upwards into fun and her downwards into being boring, but different people sounds nicer. Anyway, in the end I just stopped speaking to her to see what she'd do. She predictably did nothing.
Recently I dreamt about her. Well, that's not wholly true. I dreamt I was an Olympic-level athlete in the new sport of Urban Swimming (don't ask) before dreaming about her. In this dream, she was over me. Utterly and completely, didn't give a shit about me anymore. New boyfriend, new life.
I woke up, irked. The fact that I felt irked, irked me even more. I actually don't care about her, anymore and I hope she doesn't care about me - although I suspect she probably does. And yet I still felt a genuine longing for her.
Problem is I remember her as two people, really. The student who I fell in love with and the 'professional' who was distinctly boring, predictable and unlovable. I miss the former. The dream (and subsequent dreamscapes involving ladies) was probably more about me.
Girls and I? Maybe. Although that'd be a bit too easy, psychoanalyticilly. The battle might be more inside my pretty little head. The complex management of the feminine and masculine sections of my subconcious is a perilous arrangement, probably not helped by the fact that, last week, that lovely pole dancer illustrated how out of shape I am on the pole, one of my favourite outlets of fun.
This also seems a bit easy and convenient. My overactive subconscious aside, I'm generally blissfully happy (if completely skint) recently, so there can't be that much to fret about. I don't know, to be honest, but it's useful to get my words down on a computer screen.
Thursday, 24 January 2008
Tuesday, 22 January 2008
Abuse
I learnt one thing in class today.
Everything that's not being nice counts as abuse.
That's my catch-all solution to all possible nursing problems. Fuck, sometimes being nice counts as abuse. If you want to answer any question within nursing education, it might be worth keeping 'abuse' not far from the tip of your tongue.
Ha. What a lovely world we live in.
I'm okay, other than amused. Well. And now bald, thanks to the sheer hair pulling out that I've done over Liverpool recently.
My plan, you ask? What would I do to sort out Liverpool's troubles?
Get rid of Rafa. I'm quick to reason against constant managerial changes, but Rafa is going from bad to worse. Bad tactics, bad subs, bad buys. 2007/08 was supposed to be his year. His team, his performance. Bollocks.
Get rid of Rafa, hell, bring in the dreaded Special One. At least he could make a team play together.
People are moaning about the Americans but people moaned about the Glazers at Man United. What's happened since they took over? Well, Old Trafford has been expanded and they've made consistent big money buys over the past two years. Apparently the Glazers were going to ruin and asset strip Man United. It appears common sense has prevailed. You don't kill the goose that laid the golden egg.
Everything that's not being nice counts as abuse.
That's my catch-all solution to all possible nursing problems. Fuck, sometimes being nice counts as abuse. If you want to answer any question within nursing education, it might be worth keeping 'abuse' not far from the tip of your tongue.
Ha. What a lovely world we live in.
I'm okay, other than amused. Well. And now bald, thanks to the sheer hair pulling out that I've done over Liverpool recently.
My plan, you ask? What would I do to sort out Liverpool's troubles?
Get rid of Rafa. I'm quick to reason against constant managerial changes, but Rafa is going from bad to worse. Bad tactics, bad subs, bad buys. 2007/08 was supposed to be his year. His team, his performance. Bollocks.
Get rid of Rafa, hell, bring in the dreaded Special One. At least he could make a team play together.
People are moaning about the Americans but people moaned about the Glazers at Man United. What's happened since they took over? Well, Old Trafford has been expanded and they've made consistent big money buys over the past two years. Apparently the Glazers were going to ruin and asset strip Man United. It appears common sense has prevailed. You don't kill the goose that laid the golden egg.
Saturday, 19 January 2008
Back to the problem...
http://nhsblogdoc.blogspot.com/2008/01/sick-man-of-europe.html
^ Top notch article by the ever-on-the-pulse Dr. Crippen.
As mentioned in the comments, I love the Soviet tractor to NHS IT comparison. NHS IT is just one of the supposedly superweapons of the spin-obsessed Labour government of the past 10 years. The government can quote some outlandish figure of investment into the NHS, but how much of this money has actually trickled down to the healthcare professionals who would know what to do with it, and how much has fell into the stop bucket of PFI companies like SENCO failing to produce a decent information network? I could big up a pile of old Private Eye's and have a look, but stats aren't my bag.
Another one of my favourite tricks of the current administration (a good word, considering all they do is push pencils) is the old "We've employed a record number of nurses" bollocks.
No. The actions of the Tories and the early Labour fumblings scared off a large amount of homegrown nurses, prompting the 'golden return handshake' adverts years ago. These didn't bring back enough nurses, so the government had to rely on Overseas nurses, agency nurses and bank nurses. These, like PFI projects, don't appear on the balance sheet in the same way UK-trained nurses do.
A lovely little trick up the spin doctor's sleeves involved cancelling a lot of these contracts and giving the agency, some bank and some overseas personell normal NHS contracts. This took them onto the balance sheet, which in the eyes of a politician (and on an Excel spreadsheet) looks like more nurses recruited.
This might not seem like a very damaging piece of spin, if you ignore the huge political lie, but patient care would have suffered where staff were re-allocated to deal with the new contracts and infrastructures. But Labour don't care about that. They have a failed computer system to pour more money into...
^ Top notch article by the ever-on-the-pulse Dr. Crippen.
As mentioned in the comments, I love the Soviet tractor to NHS IT comparison. NHS IT is just one of the supposedly superweapons of the spin-obsessed Labour government of the past 10 years. The government can quote some outlandish figure of investment into the NHS, but how much of this money has actually trickled down to the healthcare professionals who would know what to do with it, and how much has fell into the stop bucket of PFI companies like SENCO failing to produce a decent information network? I could big up a pile of old Private Eye's and have a look, but stats aren't my bag.
Another one of my favourite tricks of the current administration (a good word, considering all they do is push pencils) is the old "We've employed a record number of nurses" bollocks.
No. The actions of the Tories and the early Labour fumblings scared off a large amount of homegrown nurses, prompting the 'golden return handshake' adverts years ago. These didn't bring back enough nurses, so the government had to rely on Overseas nurses, agency nurses and bank nurses. These, like PFI projects, don't appear on the balance sheet in the same way UK-trained nurses do.
A lovely little trick up the spin doctor's sleeves involved cancelling a lot of these contracts and giving the agency, some bank and some overseas personell normal NHS contracts. This took them onto the balance sheet, which in the eyes of a politician (and on an Excel spreadsheet) looks like more nurses recruited.
This might not seem like a very damaging piece of spin, if you ignore the huge political lie, but patient care would have suffered where staff were re-allocated to deal with the new contracts and infrastructures. But Labour don't care about that. They have a failed computer system to pour more money into...
Back to the problem...
http://nhsblogdoc.blogspot.com/2008/01/sick-man-of-europe.html
^ Top notch article by the ever-on-the-pulse Dr. Crippen.
As mentioned in the comments, I love the Soviet tractor to NHS IT comparison. NHS IT is just one of the supposedly superweapons of the spin-obsessed Labour government of the past 10 years. The government can quote some outlandish figure of investment into the NHS, but how much of this money has actually trickled down to the healthcare professionals who would know what to do with it, and how much has fell into the stop bucket of PFI companies like SENCO failing to produce a decent information network? I could big up a pile of old Private Eye's and have a look, but stats aren't my bag.
Another one of my favourite tricks of the current administration (a good word, considering all they do is push pencils) is the old "We've employed a record number of nurses" bollocks.
No. The actions of the Tories and the early Labour fumblings scared off a large amount of homegrown nurses, prompting the 'golden return handshake' adverts years ago. These didn't bring back enough nurses, so the government had to rely on Overseas nurses, agency nurses and bank nurses. These, like PFI projects, don't appear on the balance sheet in the same way UK-trained nurses do.
A lovely little trick up the spin doctor's sleeves involved cancelling a lot of these contracts and giving the agency, some bank and some overseas personell normal NHS contracts. This took them onto the balance sheet, which in the eyes of a politician (and on an Excel spreadsheet) looks like more nurses recruited.
This might not seem like a very damaging piece of spin, if you ignore the huge political lie, but patient care would have suffered where staff were re-allocated to deal with the new contracts and infrastructures. But Labour don't care about that. They have a failed computer system to pour more money into...
^ Top notch article by the ever-on-the-pulse Dr. Crippen.
As mentioned in the comments, I love the Soviet tractor to NHS IT comparison. NHS IT is just one of the supposedly superweapons of the spin-obsessed Labour government of the past 10 years. The government can quote some outlandish figure of investment into the NHS, but how much of this money has actually trickled down to the healthcare professionals who would know what to do with it, and how much has fell into the stop bucket of PFI companies like SENCO failing to produce a decent information network? I could big up a pile of old Private Eye's and have a look, but stats aren't my bag.
Another one of my favourite tricks of the current administration (a good word, considering all they do is push pencils) is the old "We've employed a record number of nurses" bollocks.
No. The actions of the Tories and the early Labour fumblings scared off a large amount of homegrown nurses, prompting the 'golden return handshake' adverts years ago. These didn't bring back enough nurses, so the government had to rely on Overseas nurses, agency nurses and bank nurses. These, like PFI projects, don't appear on the balance sheet in the same way UK-trained nurses do.
A lovely little trick up the spin doctor's sleeves involved cancelling a lot of these contracts and giving the agency, some bank and some overseas personell normal NHS contracts. This took them onto the balance sheet, which in the eyes of a politician (and on an Excel spreadsheet) looks like more nurses recruited.
This might not seem like a very damaging piece of spin, if you ignore the huge political lie, but patient care would have suffered where staff were re-allocated to deal with the new contracts and infrastructures. But Labour don't care about that. They have a failed computer system to pour more money into...
Thursday, 17 January 2008
Strictly Come Pole Dancing
I have, in the past, mentioned I'm a sometime pole dancer. I learnt over the year - although it's more like 6 months - before I came to study Nursing. I was working a well-paid but boring job, and so it seemed like an entertaining use of time.
It was better than that. Advertised as Rock&Pole, i.e. pole dancing to rock music, is really hit a chord with me. Not only that - I was actually quite good at it.
Last night, on a crazed road trip out to Sheffield, we got talking to a group of girls. One of whom mentioning she was a pole dancer. One of my friends mentioned us having a pole-off (not that that's a term or anything. I kinda just made it up) so we did. As I say, I haven't practised for months, but she murdered me.
And I was a broken man. I'd been having a ball until then, but between my tired, drunken limbs and lack of match fitness, I was no match at all. She wasn't a poor winner, and dissapeared into the smoke. But I was broken.
She was, it should be mentioned, fine. Beautiful motherfucker. Dreads and a mini-kilt and a twinkle in her eye.
After 20 minutes of soul searching, which felt like a lot more, I realised I had to get some closure. Despite the fact that the time we spent on the pole is the shortest time it's ever taken me to fall for someone, I wasn't bothered about that. I wanted to apologise to her for being a bit of a let down, really. Professional pride, baby.
So I did. And we chatted, and had a giggle. She's actually a professional dancer at Spearmint Rhino, which is the dog's bollocks of such dancing clubs, and practices every day. We parted on a happy note, myself remade bigger, better and bad-asser with her lovely self as the catalyst, and I feel right out of love. Which is good, 'cause it turns out she was a bit of a prick, in the end.
But, sometimes the really addictive ones are. Fuck safety.
Anyway, I considered going to pole classes again, as expensive and time consuming (I'd have to do a two hour round trip to one) as they are. But even then, I'll have to stop when I go back into practice placement. Instead I may save up and buy a pole myself. I may not be able to install it in this crappy student accomodation, but my best mates may let me put it up and practice there.
The point is - I would not have been so easily dispatched in my prime. If I ever get a chance to have a rematch with this dreadlocked Goddess of a woman, I'm not going to let myself down.
It's hard to explain, but I know what I mean. And it makes me feel better.
It was better than that. Advertised as Rock&Pole, i.e. pole dancing to rock music, is really hit a chord with me. Not only that - I was actually quite good at it.
Last night, on a crazed road trip out to Sheffield, we got talking to a group of girls. One of whom mentioning she was a pole dancer. One of my friends mentioned us having a pole-off (not that that's a term or anything. I kinda just made it up) so we did. As I say, I haven't practised for months, but she murdered me.
And I was a broken man. I'd been having a ball until then, but between my tired, drunken limbs and lack of match fitness, I was no match at all. She wasn't a poor winner, and dissapeared into the smoke. But I was broken.
She was, it should be mentioned, fine. Beautiful motherfucker. Dreads and a mini-kilt and a twinkle in her eye.
After 20 minutes of soul searching, which felt like a lot more, I realised I had to get some closure. Despite the fact that the time we spent on the pole is the shortest time it's ever taken me to fall for someone, I wasn't bothered about that. I wanted to apologise to her for being a bit of a let down, really. Professional pride, baby.
So I did. And we chatted, and had a giggle. She's actually a professional dancer at Spearmint Rhino, which is the dog's bollocks of such dancing clubs, and practices every day. We parted on a happy note, myself remade bigger, better and bad-asser with her lovely self as the catalyst, and I feel right out of love. Which is good, 'cause it turns out she was a bit of a prick, in the end.
But, sometimes the really addictive ones are. Fuck safety.
Anyway, I considered going to pole classes again, as expensive and time consuming (I'd have to do a two hour round trip to one) as they are. But even then, I'll have to stop when I go back into practice placement. Instead I may save up and buy a pole myself. I may not be able to install it in this crappy student accomodation, but my best mates may let me put it up and practice there.
The point is - I would not have been so easily dispatched in my prime. If I ever get a chance to have a rematch with this dreadlocked Goddess of a woman, I'm not going to let myself down.
It's hard to explain, but I know what I mean. And it makes me feel better.
Tuesday, 15 January 2008
Stupidity and the War of the Sexes
A while ago, I mentioned my sexist leaderboard. Lecturers receive a plus point for a comment encouraging or propagating the idea of equal opportunities. They receive a negative mark for a sexist comment that deserves to fuck off back to the 1970s were it belongs. This often revolves around doctors referred to in the masculine ('he did..' 'his'.. etc.) or nurses referred to as universally female.
I mean, how hard it is it say 'He or she may..' or even 'They'? It's not fucking rocket science. And this is the kind of thing I reckon a lot of old in the tooth M.D.s get shot down for. Why not nurse lecturers?
Possibly because the course attendees pander to it (present company excepted) like a crowd of clapping seals. The female members (and this is in my experience, only, at my place of study - not a generalisation) agree like nodding dogs and the scant other men in the group agree as to suck up. And because they seem to have no backbone when it comes to standing up and offending people.
It's infuriating. In the classic sense - to cause fury. In me.
I mean, how hard it is it say 'He or she may..' or even 'They'? It's not fucking rocket science. And this is the kind of thing I reckon a lot of old in the tooth M.D.s get shot down for. Why not nurse lecturers?
Possibly because the course attendees pander to it (present company excepted) like a crowd of clapping seals. The female members (and this is in my experience, only, at my place of study - not a generalisation) agree like nodding dogs and the scant other men in the group agree as to suck up. And because they seem to have no backbone when it comes to standing up and offending people.
It's infuriating. In the classic sense - to cause fury. In me.
Monday, 14 January 2008
Clinical Governance
CG is a fancy word for people working together. I'm just going to jot a few things down to remind me, as it might have to be in one of my future essays.
I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to attend a Clinical Governance Meeting during my first placement. I felt the CG meeting was a productive use of time for medical, nursing and other healthcare staff to come together. It was beneficial for me to take part in such discussion as it gave me an insight into examples of how CG is constantly evaluating old plans, monitoring current initiatives and proposing new innovations, all centred around MDT patient care.
This episode made me think about how the MDT is frequently trying to improve communication and coordination, which I think is important to be made aware of as a new student nurse. On this point, I would like to attend more to improve my understanding of such issues.
--
Right, now that's done - hello.
I'm back in Uni this week, which means wasted hours and hours and hours with people who don't know how to use computers. On the plus side, my next ward (which is a surgical one) is apparently really friendly and exciting, so I have reason to be pleased.
I'd be more pleased if Play.com and the postman got together to deliver my copy of Zombie Survival Guide, but we can't have everything, can we?
I was lucky enough to have the opportunity to attend a Clinical Governance Meeting during my first placement. I felt the CG meeting was a productive use of time for medical, nursing and other healthcare staff to come together. It was beneficial for me to take part in such discussion as it gave me an insight into examples of how CG is constantly evaluating old plans, monitoring current initiatives and proposing new innovations, all centred around MDT patient care.
This episode made me think about how the MDT is frequently trying to improve communication and coordination, which I think is important to be made aware of as a new student nurse. On this point, I would like to attend more to improve my understanding of such issues.
--
Right, now that's done - hello.
I'm back in Uni this week, which means wasted hours and hours and hours with people who don't know how to use computers. On the plus side, my next ward (which is a surgical one) is apparently really friendly and exciting, so I have reason to be pleased.
I'd be more pleased if Play.com and the postman got together to deliver my copy of Zombie Survival Guide, but we can't have everything, can we?
Friday, 11 January 2008
World War Z
World War Z was the perfect book for me to read recently. Myself, as a silly boy with his head at least slightly still in the clouds, and friends I hold close to me have discussed one fictional possibility more than any other. Zombie Scenario.
We have theories. We used to have plans for escape when we lived in Leeds (that's right. I don't live in Leeds anymore). We discussed Zombie killing and avoidance. Allsorts.
Max Booth, author of World War Z, makes us look like rank amateurs.
It's the hindsight tale of a fictional World War - Human Vs. Zombies. He has created an entire, all-too realistic universe were greed, fear and ignorance drive the human race to the brink of extinction.
For Zombie-geeks, it's utter bliss. It points out the horrific simplicity which the Zombies would use to win. As one of the characters puts: A normal army, a normal enemy, needs three things. To be: bred, fed and led. Zombies don't need food. They don't need to be led in the classic sense. And bred? They kill a human. The human becomes a zombie. How's that for breeding?
For normal people who would never spend time planning for this kind of apocalypse, it's an eye-opening look into human behaviour. Abandonment, desperation.. Horrible (let's ignore fictional) situations and the angelic to horrible people in them.
God, read it. Whatever you do, read it before it's too late.
We have theories. We used to have plans for escape when we lived in Leeds (that's right. I don't live in Leeds anymore). We discussed Zombie killing and avoidance. Allsorts.
Max Booth, author of World War Z, makes us look like rank amateurs.
It's the hindsight tale of a fictional World War - Human Vs. Zombies. He has created an entire, all-too realistic universe were greed, fear and ignorance drive the human race to the brink of extinction.
For Zombie-geeks, it's utter bliss. It points out the horrific simplicity which the Zombies would use to win. As one of the characters puts: A normal army, a normal enemy, needs three things. To be: bred, fed and led. Zombies don't need food. They don't need to be led in the classic sense. And bred? They kill a human. The human becomes a zombie. How's that for breeding?
For normal people who would never spend time planning for this kind of apocalypse, it's an eye-opening look into human behaviour. Abandonment, desperation.. Horrible (let's ignore fictional) situations and the angelic to horrible people in them.
God, read it. Whatever you do, read it before it's too late.
Monday, 7 January 2008
Football
I like football, if I haven't already mentioned it.
Being a fan of Liverpool FC is not a fun pastime recently.
Why, you ask? Well, rotation aside (a theme covered so much in the media that there is no point me covering it) because Rafa has begun to choose his transfers with all the wisdom and patience of an NHS manager.
E.g.
Last year, Rafa wanted to buy a striker called Darren Bent. He wasn't able to, so he went out and panic bought Peter Crouch. Who is a poor replacement.
Similarly, he wanted to buy Daniel Alves. Unable to do so, he bough Jermaine Pennant, a Championship (i.e. a league below the Premiership) player. Who is rubbish.
He, quite foolishly, tried to buy a Manchester United player at the start of this season. For the uninformed, there is a great deal of animosity between Man U and Liverpool fans and the clubs themselves. Be was, suffice to say, unable to and our defence has suffered ever since.
The moral of the story? Don't put all your eggs in one basket. Or you end up with egg all over your face.
Being a fan of Liverpool FC is not a fun pastime recently.
Why, you ask? Well, rotation aside (a theme covered so much in the media that there is no point me covering it) because Rafa has begun to choose his transfers with all the wisdom and patience of an NHS manager.
E.g.
Last year, Rafa wanted to buy a striker called Darren Bent. He wasn't able to, so he went out and panic bought Peter Crouch. Who is a poor replacement.
Similarly, he wanted to buy Daniel Alves. Unable to do so, he bough Jermaine Pennant, a Championship (i.e. a league below the Premiership) player. Who is rubbish.
He, quite foolishly, tried to buy a Manchester United player at the start of this season. For the uninformed, there is a great deal of animosity between Man U and Liverpool fans and the clubs themselves. Be was, suffice to say, unable to and our defence has suffered ever since.
The moral of the story? Don't put all your eggs in one basket. Or you end up with egg all over your face.
Woman Like A Man...
It's always funny, I think, to find large groups of women behaving stereotypically like large groups of men.
I first ran into such a situation in pole dancing, where I was the only man in the class. Women lapsed into foolish bravado and humour as a defence mechanism, two traits I would usually assign to the typical Nuts reader.
At Uni today I was pestered about a mark I had recieved on a recent test. It was 3% below that of two girls, and they went on to act quite childish while I took the higher moral ground.
I never thought that'd happen. Me mature, and older women immature. Stereotypes are blurring, like. It's a funny old world, innit?
I first ran into such a situation in pole dancing, where I was the only man in the class. Women lapsed into foolish bravado and humour as a defence mechanism, two traits I would usually assign to the typical Nuts reader.
At Uni today I was pestered about a mark I had recieved on a recent test. It was 3% below that of two girls, and they went on to act quite childish while I took the higher moral ground.
I never thought that'd happen. Me mature, and older women immature. Stereotypes are blurring, like. It's a funny old world, innit?
Wednesday, 2 January 2008
Start as I mean to go on...
With some gender political ranting, of course!
Let me start talking about Burlesque. Generally, I like Burlesque. The idea of it, I mean. And in it's heyday I bet it was on the spectacular side. And watching Dita Von Teese is probably something similar.
The only experience, other than reading about, I have of modern Burlesque is the performances I've attended. Which have, unfortunately, been very amateur and rubbish. And nothing like I imagined. Dita, for example, talks about every day glamour, which sounds a lot of fun to me. Dressing up, after all, counts as fun. But the girls who I've watched at Burlesque were treating it like a single performance when, I thought, it was supposed to be something that was lived, you know?
I suppose my main annoyance is about how lucky women are to have something quite empowering like Burlesque. The minority of men who actually care about looking and feeling good (as well as believing these two things are connected) have no such lovely device. And as much as I like being part of a niche group, it'd be nice if current trends didn't propagate themselves over and over again.
Oh, it's a hard knock life.
Let me start talking about Burlesque. Generally, I like Burlesque. The idea of it, I mean. And in it's heyday I bet it was on the spectacular side. And watching Dita Von Teese is probably something similar.
The only experience, other than reading about, I have of modern Burlesque is the performances I've attended. Which have, unfortunately, been very amateur and rubbish. And nothing like I imagined. Dita, for example, talks about every day glamour, which sounds a lot of fun to me. Dressing up, after all, counts as fun. But the girls who I've watched at Burlesque were treating it like a single performance when, I thought, it was supposed to be something that was lived, you know?
I suppose my main annoyance is about how lucky women are to have something quite empowering like Burlesque. The minority of men who actually care about looking and feeling good (as well as believing these two things are connected) have no such lovely device. And as much as I like being part of a niche group, it'd be nice if current trends didn't propagate themselves over and over again.
Oh, it's a hard knock life.
2007...
2007 in Review by OFMN,
So, 2007. Started off living at home, not knowing whether my life was sorted. It now is, so I'm very much pleased.
My choice of vocation was right, and I'm happy struggling through training and all it's hilarious pitfalls. Especially regarding the M of OFMN. It's enjoyable, though.
Romance-wise, there was very little. January the 1st started quite unromantically and the year got progressively worse until I was joyously single and with no plans to be otherwise.
Although one girl did since chat to me constantly, ask me if I was single and then asked me for my number while not actually want to go out sometime. Look upwards for the joyously bit. This is just one of the reasons why.
What else? I watched Liverpool lose in the Champion's League Final, on the sport front. But I did win a pile of cash on the Grand National.
All in all, 2007 has been a good year of my life. 8/10. Woo.
So, 2007. Started off living at home, not knowing whether my life was sorted. It now is, so I'm very much pleased.
My choice of vocation was right, and I'm happy struggling through training and all it's hilarious pitfalls. Especially regarding the M of OFMN. It's enjoyable, though.
Romance-wise, there was very little. January the 1st started quite unromantically and the year got progressively worse until I was joyously single and with no plans to be otherwise.
Although one girl did since chat to me constantly, ask me if I was single and then asked me for my number while not actually want to go out sometime. Look upwards for the joyously bit. This is just one of the reasons why.
What else? I watched Liverpool lose in the Champion's League Final, on the sport front. But I did win a pile of cash on the Grand National.
All in all, 2007 has been a good year of my life. 8/10. Woo.
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