Le Sud de France: the rest

Going to catch this blog up if it kills me. Right. Back to France, circa early April.

As the trip was essentially two days in France bookended by two days of travel, the itinerary was pretty simple: one day of sea, one day of mountains. Heading into the weekend, we were keeping an eagle eye on a threat of rain that danced constantly from Saturday to Sunday, waiting to see which 50% of our plans would be scuppered. As it happened, though, the first drops made their appearance just after sunset on Saturday, and by dawn the next day, the skies were clear once more. Quelle chance!

It was, therefore, an absolutely gorgeous morning for my first (figurative) taste of the Mediterranean:

To Market, To Market

On the south bank of the Thames, tucked under the elevated railway viaduct, there is a wonderful place. It is all about food...

Coming Attractions

Now, in my defense, I have already kept up with this blog longer than pretty much any other autobiographical documentation I've ever attempted, and that includes personal diaries. That being said, I realize that it looks here as though I'm still in southern France, and - while I rather wish that were true - I have done and seen a decent number of pretty cool things since then. As I'm trying to keep this in more or less chronological order, here are some pictorial highlights to tide you over, which will (hopefully) be fleshed out into proper entries at some point in the near future.

Le Sud de France: le premier jour

Last weekend! was, for real, why I decided to move to the UK. Much love to London, Bath, etc., but the fact that in the space of 10 days, you can go from "hey, want to go somewhere?" to sipping sangría on the French Mediterranean, on a holiday weekend, without pawning a vital organ, is amazing.

Ch-Ox-olate

Who knew that there'd be so many punny ways to work Oxford into post titles?

This won't be so much a post, anyway, as basically a bit of gratuitous food porn from the Oxford Chocolate Festival over the weekend. I'm not even a great chocolate person, but I must say, Broad Street has never looked more delicious.

Sing hey! for the Bath at close of day

Had a handful of days off last week, so I hopped on a bus and, two hours later, was strolling through 2000-year-old Roman ruins.

Ah yes. That's why I moved here.

Ramble on

a.k.a. Gratuitous Pastoral Scenic Shots.

Rambling (UKese for - well - walking) is Britain's most popular outdoor recreation. At least, so say the Ramblers, Britain's self-styled walking charity. Whatever the potential bias of this claim, it's certainly true that walking enjoys a pretty impressive popularity here. It's logical, if you think about it; this country rather lends itself to it, what with its moderate climate, relatively small size, and largely level terrain. There's something simple and lovely, too, about just stepping out and striking off when a spell of rubbish weather has broken, which is precisely what I did the other day.

Cookies disabled

Last year, for Lent, I gave up meat. It was one of the more difficult things I've voluntarily done in my life, but I managed it. Not only did I feel proud of myself for having set an ambitious goal and achieved it, but I discovered a new, exciting fact: I really did have the capacity to change myself, to reach inwards and shake awake my extremely reticent self-discipline, to do things like eat healthier and lose weight and run a half-marathon, for crying out loud. Flush with remembered success, I decided this year to give up both meat and desserts. A challenge, certainly, but I didn't want to rest on my laurels.

Day two of Lent 2012: FAIL.

A post in honor of my father, who has finally managed to figure out RSS feeds.  Happy pre-birthday, Dad!

Work update

So with the completion of my shift yesterday, I am officially one-fourth of the way through my first assignment. Hard to believe it's gone so fast - although I suppose, given how easily three years slipped by in LA, I shouldn't be surprised when three months feels like the blink of an eye.

I am surprised by how fast I think - I hope - I've caught on here. In the end, I was given a grand total of one shift of orientation, had a couple of days on the stepdown unit, and have been in intensive care (which they insist on calling ITU - InTensivecare Unit? Doesn't make sense, people!) ever since. The first handful of shifts were frustrating, to say the least. Not only was I rusty from four months off, and struggling with the transition to the physical, political, and procedural landscape of a new workplace, but in some ways, things over here seem designed to be handicaps, especially in a critical care setting.

Find of the Day

Came across this at the local farmer's market today:

I promise I asked if they had a smaller size pot.

Oh my.

This, with the application of maybe thirty seconds' worth of elbow grease, whipped up into this:

Not butter...but only just.

Which meant that these had to happen:

What? It's a lot of cream.

And finally:

Not clotted cream, and no jam. Ask me if I care. Go on, ask.

My new modus transportandi! Of course, two days after I hired it came the snow, so it's been garaged until the roads are melted enough for me to venture out again; somehow I find it more nerve-wracking to bike on the wrong side of the road than to drive.

I love how very English it looks - complete with a step-through frame so that I don't muss my, I dunno, hoop skirts or something. All it really needs is a wicker basket on the front instead of that pannier, and I could practically call it a velocipede.

Ox-snow-nian

I think about half of Oxford was out this morning with cameras, post-snow. Not much to this post, just some taster photos and a link to the rest of the album here.

Yeah, that's about it. Enjoy.

Forewarning and apology to lay-friends and family: this is going to be mainly job-related. I had so many unanswered questions going into this - both mine and others' - and I'd like both to describe how I'm finding it over here, and to chronicle my journey as a nurse in the UK. Who knows, maybe someday I'll look back on it and laugh at how green I was.

This picture is actually a lie - personal stethoscopes are a no-no on this unit, so mine is gathering dust on my desk :-(

Hooooly crap. What have I gotten myself into.

Random thoughts before bed.

-I never thought I'd miss Essentris and CAdmin, but I've got two words for you: paper. charting.
-I also never thought I'd miss the Pyxis. Med keys suck.
-RTs, I've always loved you, but I don't think I ever fully appreciated you until now. Who wants to be smuggled over to manage my vents?
-I have SO MUCH REVIEWING to do.
-As much as it pains me to say it - the ol' pharmacy wasn't all bad. Turns out drawing up all your own meds is kind of tedious, especially when you have to check every single one with another nurse (ESPECIALLY especially when you can't give your own meds until you've gotten signed off or something).

And yet...

-My kid chose ten minutes before shift change to clog his ETT and desat to 2. Nurses swarm, docs come running, tube is yanked, bradying and bagging and suctioning and reintubation. You know what? I forgot how much I love this.

I'm BACK, baby!

Well, hello there. I've been meaning all day to write this post, but for some reason - probably to do with the idea of starting work tomorrow after more than four months off - I've spent most of the day watching trashy TV on Netflix. Now it's 10.30 p.m., and despite the fact that I have to present myself at 7.15 tomorrow morning, I am not the least bit tired. So, updating you all it is!

I have taken up residence in room 1-074 at the Arthur Sanctuary House, a sizeable dormitory on the hospital campus built in the 1950s as a nurses' (not nursing) home. With several single rooms sharing each kitchen and communal area, I was expecting a dorm-style suite-like arrangement. Unfortunately, every room opens directly onto the hallway, and each has its own lock, so as far as I've seen, there's no real sense of community. The kitchen also leaves much to be desired; I spent most of Saturday acquiring a sad little hodgepodge of the most basic cookware, and I dearly miss the array of accoutrements stashed in my parents' basement. Still, the commute can't be beat - perhaps a three-minute walk from the dorm to the hospital door - and, really, I didn't move to England to spend a whole lot of time in housing.

So the hospital and dorm are actually located in Headington, a small suburb of Oxford about two miles east of the city centre. It sits at the top of Headington Hill, and I've heard tell that it actually has quite good views of the dreaming spires, although I haven't yet found a tree-less vantage point to prove this theory.

Looking west

So, uh...looks like this is happening.