PCSOs

I'm coming out in support of the two PCSOs who didn't dive in to 'save' the kids who jumped into that lake in Wigan.

Recently, I've been told I'm not allowed to wear my uniform coming to and from University or placement. I thought this was for some stuffy old traditional reasoning and in part it is. I was also logically informed that it had something to do with cross infection, which is very sensible.

However, the main reason is accountability. I'm in training right now. We were warned, quite starkly, in fact, that if someone had a heart attack and a desperate relative asked me to help and the man or woman in question died that I could be sued.

I can't remember when this country became America, but it certainly has.

Accountability is now a watch word for all public servants. One of the reasons I got into nursing was to help people. But if some piece of slime is going to try and take me into a courtroom because I couldn't save a life, then I'm not going to do it.

Firstly - no shit, Sherlock - PCSOs aren't fully trained police officers. I know. It's shocking. But they're not. The Police Federation have always said PCSOs are a bad idea when replacing PCs, but the government doesn't really care. PCSOs are cheaper to train and pay than PCs and so it looks like the government is getting more uniforms on the street.

They're not trained. And in the same vein, they do not have the same rights or protection afforded to PCs, because... they're not PCs.

So whereas a PC has both the training to jump into an unknown body of water, as well as the legal protection if something goes wrong, a PCSO does not. The PCSOs in question followed procedure perfectly. The romantic notion of a maverick cop breaking the rules is fine and dandy in Hollywood, but Max Payne or Dirty Harry never had the red-tape-wielding, lily-livered bean counters otherwise known as the IPCC (Independent Police Complaints Commission) ready to run them out of a job or an entire living. Recent police media-portrayed 'blunders' have forced the force to do things by the book. The media, nor the public which supports it, shouldn't cry when they reap their own whirlwind.

Even in three years, once my training is fully realised, maybe my mind will change. An off-duty nurse saved the life of my dad, once, and I like to think if she hadn't been able to I wouldn't have taken her through a legal battle.

It's a pity everyone isn't like that.

"Things Are Really Getting Better..."

So, homesickness is over. This is in part thanks my two best friends, part due to Manchester and part due to importing more of my crap into this lovely room, which I may get pictures up of soon.

I think the point I really knew things were going to get better was when I came home from a few drinks with a friend and I thought 'It's good to be home'. That was a turning point and it's got better since then, really.

Lots of walking around since then. And plenty of friend-based giggles have reminded me how good it is to be here, even if I haven't made any friends in the sparsely occupied tower block I live in.

I bought my uniform today. It's a bit baggy, but I'm told it's supposed to be large. That was fun. The big A and I made jokes in the uniform shop, which was a really dull place, but they weren't appreciated. Hmph.

We then went out to buy female pyjama bottoms. There is a recent fashion of 'boyfriend clothes'. Like shirts in a man's style but cut for a woman. So we decided to turn this on it's head. There glittery trousers I'm wearing are actually quite flattering, I must say...

So yes. Things are getting better. Although I'm exhausted and my new bed isn't fantastic for my back, it's nice to have a night in. Which I actually hope will happen. There are hints of a night out on the horizon and I hope I can avoid it. I'm down to just over a tonne, after buying my uniform, so money saving is a priority. Although my University will pay for my uniform reterospectively, I might not see that 60 squid for a while.

Live to your limits, that's what I say.

Homesickness and New Beginnings

So, despite this blog having been half-arsed-around for a while, I'm actually due to start my course soon. And actually train as a nurse, which was the original point of it.

So, yesterday I moved to University. I got in early, on the first possible day, and once I'd unpacked my basics I was somewhat bored. Two of my best friends live or lived here so they were around to make me feel welcome. We got drunk and stayed out until 5am and took silly pictures and it was better than I'd imagined it could've been.

But now I'm under siege by homesickness. It's only really myself and the international students here now, you see, and my flatmate isn't in that often - and is older and seems a bit quiet - so I'm on my own. And it's making me weep for no apparent reason.

This isn't the first time I've lived away from home. It is, in fact, not my first stint of Further Education. And yet today feels worse than when I was 18. By this time, my first time around, I'd already made two mates and had a drinking session with them to look forward to. I mean, I remember crying when I realised I was all on my own, but meeting people naturally changed that. Given I'm a 'mature' - ha! - student I'm not with the new freshers and so I'm not going to meet people in the same way. That, on top of the fact that I've moved in early, means I might not meet new people soon. And my mates in the City are all well and good, but live miles away.

No man is an island, obviously, and right now I feel so isolated. It's a bit pathetic, really. But thanks to the aforementioned night out, I've had 3 hours sleep. So I just haven't the energy to fight and be positive. I almost broke down in tears in Tesco, which is unfortunately the only real supermarket nearby. I managed to hold off on the short walk back until I got through my new room before it got to me. I cried and cried until I didn't have anything left. Then I cried some more. Sometimes, I find I need a bit of a stress release whinge, but I've found it hard to stop. I rang my mum, as I was out drinking when she called me yesterday, and I found myself overcome. Thankfully, I managed to tell her I'd be home tomorrow to eat dinner and pick up more of my belongings tomorrow before I had to take my snivelling self away from the phone.

I honestly hate feeling like this. It's not me. And usually I cry, consider and move on. But thanks to fatigue and a major hangover, I just can't seem to stop it.

Other than that, the new beginnings aren't looking too shabby. I like the city I'm in, which is close enough to home for me to head back for whatever reason. My room is big because I'm only sharing the flat with one, instead of the maxiumum of three. One of my best friends has given me a bunch of books from her mum's Diploma, so I have free literature, which I always appreciate. On the plus side this room has a recreation room. On the down side there are no video games. Just bandits. Darn it. I haven't money to lose!

I'd like to meet people soon. I don't want to live the crazy life of a kid who's never been away from home before, as a choice, but in the same way it doesn't mean I don't want to meet some of them and buy cheap ale from a student union. You can't have your cake and eat it, sure, but I'd still like to.

I wish my TV was here, too. I hate being addicted, but I like the news, and the noise, and other N words.

As for people, you might be wondering why I just don't go out and meet some. Problem is, not all new students are here, yet. There are the previously mentioned internationals and then returners. There aren't a huge number of internationals about and I don't want to be an annoying newbie trying to be cool and attatch myself to a collection of 2nd or 3rd years. That's sad.

So it's a bit of a waiting game. Back during my degree there wasn't a large move-in-period. Instead there was one weekend to move in. On each of those nights your sub-Warden, a 2nd or 3rd year responsible for your block, would take you upto the bar with the rest of your house.

Of course, that was a delightful little country campus and this is a city one. But the point still stands. It'd be nice if someone was responsible for this entire floor and got us all together. I'd forget about stupid homesickness then.

I think the main point of this whole string of thought is that I should be used to this. Which, thinking about it properly, is bollocks. I lived away from home for four years, yes, but the second, third and forth were with people I know. There are none of this. And between those years I was only home for a couple of months. So essentially I've only been in this situation once before. And I was lucky to be living with some like minded boys and then ply myself with drink in their company.

So, this is the second time. The last year I've been at home, living in cramped, but really quite luxurious conditions in the fact that I had everything I needed and my mum would cook. Now I'm on my own, in a strange-ish city, hungry and filled with trepidation. It's awful, but so was my first time. Even after meeting the boys, homesickness didn't dissapear. I remember, as we were in the middle of nowhere and I didn't bring any food, being starved, searching for something - anything - to eat on a Sunday. It was a bit of an adventure, but still scary and horrid. I hope this sadness passes just as successfully.

Anorexia and Bulimia (Part One)

Re: The BBC Online Magazine's recent article on pro-ana, pro-mia and 'thinspiration' websites, I thought I'd share some thoughts.

I ran into 'Thinspiration' maybe a year back now, and was immediately made sick at the sight of it. From an aesthetic point of view more than anything. Other than this visceral reaction, I started to think about with less passion and more... logic, I suppose. Combined with my ever useful Psychology A-Level.

One of the biggest myths about Eating Disorders (EDs) is that they're linked to the Size Zero trend within society, as well as tiny models in general, i.e. it's a model problem. This can be seen as something of a fallacy from certain points of view, as EDs have increased over the last 30-40 years, rather than the last 10 or 20 where modelling and the like have been in the spotlight. It's a lie that EDs are a female only problem, as they effect both genders. Another fallacy is that EDs are a mainly Western phenomenon, but EDs effect men and women from different cultures throughout the world.

However, it certainly has a lot to do with your point of view. UK statistics tell us a rather definite view. The MAJORITY of sufferers are females, from age 14-25. As previously mentioned, statistic are anything but complete. Not all cases are reported to the NHS, and so these figures are something of a messy area.


The main thrust of the BBC's article rests on the dangers (yawn) of the internet, but the article - and the commenters at the bottom of the page - points out that the internet hasn't really encouraged pro-ana attitudes, but just given them a different outlet.

Like terrorism and extreme facsist views, I tend believe that monitoring and not censoring pro-ana groups within Facebook etc. is the way to go. I'm of this opinion for two reasons, really. One is that I don't really care about the type of girl who subscribe to this 'thinspiration' rubbish. The second reason is that girls hanging around this kind of website leave clues for their - hopefully - lovely friends to catch them out and give or get them some help or support.

As for the causes... well, it's a relatively unknown area. First off, there are so many cases which don't get reported because of shame or some other reason, so from a certain point of view there's insufficient data to put a theory together.

Crime and Punishment (or lack of)

So my car got flipped over again last night, one of three on our road. And is possibly mortally damaged - either that, or it will mortally damage my wallet. And, despite the fact that we're 'Living In a Police State' there are no cameras and these 'young people' get away scott free. Again.

So, my wonderance is - where is the punishment? And what's the moral to these folk? Because the world seems to be saying you can get away with things, generally.

If the leaders of Liberty and their friends lived in rough areas, would they still be so touchy feely with gangs of young men who damage their property and scare local people? Would they still argue that they have human rights and are poor and underprivileged and deserve a break?

I don't think so.

I imagined killing them in several different ways. Bludgeoning is a good one. Or hanging them whilst broadcasting the whole event on the internet. Come on. This isn't Oliver-style 'I-stole-some-bread-to-feed-my-family-guv'nor' bullshit. This is just crime.

I've decided that, way in the future when it's possible, the perfect punishment would be to take over the brains of these youngsters and put them in the Matrix. Separate them from their friends. Put them into the body of a 91 year old woman living alone in their home borough. And then see how they like it.

I'm all for an eye for an eye. Compared to today's system which seems to be 'You take an eye and we'll... well.... get in a huff but not really do anything about it'.

Maybe we could put them on a control order and they could walk off. That might work.

When Roy has requested offroad parking for our new house, I was sceptical at first. But now it's a bit of a must.

Double Standards/Equality

Picture the scene. A guy has been downing brandy. Gets thrown out of a nightclub for lewdness. Commits criminal damage on someone else's property. Gets caught by the police. Resists arrest, including trying to injure a PC in his delicate bits. The PC uses force to protect himself and subdue the already proven to be dangerous and violent suspect.

How's that sound?

A month ago I saw a violent male suspect treated like this by the police. Quite fair, I think.

But suddenly, you replace the male suspect with a female one and it's a fucking national emergency. In this day and age, with cracked glass ceilings and everything else... you.... NO! You can't *hit* a *girl*. (Let's be honest-like. If he wanted to hurt her, he could've used that handy baton of his)

It pisses me of royally. Girls general like Equality (and I capitalise that on purpose, as it seems to be one of those Big Ideas) on their terms. This sort of thing happens frequently over the country. It's an unfortunate part of keeping the peace. The media acts as if the job of a policeman is as easy as being a hack behind a desk. It's not.

If I was a woman, I'd be offended by the whole thing. It's this sort of stigma that holds women back. But when some want equality on their own terms, it's little wonder.

Football

I'm a Liverpool fan. That's another sly hint about my identity. So, being a Liverpool fan, I'm relatively upset at an entire team would have 20 shots on goal and can't score one of them (well, can score one but it gets disallowed. Still, 1 out of 20 attempts going in? Not the best stats). Sitting in a room full of such passionate (male) fans watching people let them down is quite sad.

I say fan and not supporter. I never give Liverpool any of my money, so I can't really complain I'm not getting good value for it. Mwahaha.