A hoarders paradise.  This was the best way to describe the home we were currently in.  Stacks and stacks of old magazines, newspapers, books, leaflets, letters, bills – as well as boxes, plates, tins, brushes and all other odds and ends that you could possibly collect and stack precariously on top of one and other over an inveterate period of time.

The moment you attempted to scoop aside any volume of material to make way for room then a landslide of other debris took its place.  A small Victorian walnut coffee table was lifted in a vein effort of creating a few inches of space only to cause an avalanche of paperwork and books, some of which, including D.H. Lawrence’s ‘Lady Chatterley’s Lover’ collapsed onto our patients face . . . who lay crumpled in a heap, currently in cardiac arrest . . . Continue reading →

I was sat at my old station in East London catching up with one of the Motorcycle Response Units (MRUs).  He was chuckling about a job he’d just attended.

I asked him to spill the beans . . . Continue reading →

I’m back . . . from the armpits of Morpheus it seems, with another batch of blog entries.  So sorry for the silence . . . a mix of writers block and holidays.

Talking of holidays (and a tenuous link to the paramedic world), the wife and I went to Corsica.  Lovely place, especially for climbing.  We camped outside one of the huts and in the mountains and had a well deserved dinner within . . . Continue reading →