March 2017 – Dr Rod’s Odd Blog (almondemotion)

I, Daniel Blake

I have a special soft spot for Geordies, possibly because I see them as token Scots, and, likely, because my grandfather, Ben, grew-up in Byker.

Advance Care Plan, Human Rights & I want what I want

I want what I want now and I want what I want when I want it and – I want to be able to change my mind as often as I like as my mind is mine, as is my body and no one can tell me what I like or dislike, or want, etc.

Alone (aka levadi*)

If we follow this path, assuming tech will save us; provide us with live-in robots, computers of wheels, electronic cats and dogs, we will have missed the point.

Long lie

Two days.

That is a very long time.

Delirium and numbers

For those conditions which respond to treatments or remedies, we need tablets and love; for those without the tablets, whether in the form of placebo or not, we need at the very least, love.

Genomics* & Personcentredness

My high blood pressure is the same as yours, is the same as 100,000 other people, when, we know that every person is unique – this is a form of person-centredness at the level of genes; which is kind of cool – PCC isn’t just clinical hippies saying so; the lab folk can prove it.

I was listening

today, I was listening as a nurse shouted at one of the patients. She wasn’t shouting in anger, more, because she felt that he couldn’t hear. Indeed, He could not hear. His hearing aids were missing. Lost Somewhere. It was however odd, that when, I spoke with him, He seemed to hear whatContinue reading “I was listening”

Ransacking

Ransacking my past, Picking moments that are fizzing in the nooks and Crannies of my memory. A Nugget. Sitting with Andy in Queen’s Park. Outside the Glass Houses. Him smoking, Me, just filling my mouth with Smoke. and teaching me How to. How to Inhale. Breathe-in Hold. Supress the cough. Cough.Continue reading “Ransacking”

Marina

On a train Bound for Paris, I meet Marina. She is slim, dark haired and Palestinian. Her uncle has something to do With the PLO. It is 1990. I visit her apartment. I’m tired from sleeping in the open, From too many train connections. She fades into the distance.

Heather

We spend the night out in Glasgow. Texas. The band. I’m sure that’s who it was. Heather got the tickets from her brother who was a tabloid journalist at the time. At the end of the 80’s. and. for whatever reason, Heather came home with me afterwards. To ourContinue reading “Heather”

Moshe

Moshe was our sandy-haired head-teacher. I thought he was wonderful. Freckled with a wry smile and, A friendly punch to the shoulder of us boys who passed too close. and, I remember the day of the storm when school flooded and the water was more than a meter deep. IContinue reading “Moshe”

Ice (Rouken Glen)

There is a picture of me somewhere, I must have been seven or eight, standing in the centre of the pond in Rouken Glen, which is a big green place in the South Side of Glasgow. It was one of those winters we had in the 70’s when everything froze. I am wearing red welly-boots andContinue reading “Ice (Rouken Glen)”

Ronen El-Kabir

Ronen wasn’t so great. Sure enough, he laid me flat, on the ground, split my frenulum which required a stitch and I learned a lesson not to have a square-go with a lad who is bigger and faster and stronger than me, even, if, the honour of my friends is at stake, even if,Continue reading “Ronen El-Kabir”

Digging

Scottish summer holiday Digging, excavating the dried-out cement. Deeper and deeper we go. to where? Record player; Stranglers & Golden Brown Funny music for nine-year olds. And safe in the knowledge that we are exploring, getting somewhere. Chipping away, Scraping, small rocks and pebbles, undermining the wall’s foundations Continue reading “Digging”

Summer

Must have been a grotto Or disused quarry Bobbing around in clear Cool Water. Get off of my land! I’m not on your land; I’m in the water. Self-satisfied riposte.

Night Frozen

Night frozen on hard ground Wrong-tog sleeping bag, head cocooned within. Ancient landscape of cadaverous bogwood We wake in the middle of the night with the rain and our stuff floating around inside the tent.

The cardboard night

You see, one day when I was a student, I got fed-up. I can’t remember what is was that caused me to feel that way – Likely, something to do with people, As people Are my currency. I headed out, having just finished On the Road And hitched a lift to Edinburgh. BarelyContinue reading “The cardboard night”

Trees

I love looking at the late winter trees. Naked. Branches sketching an intricate skeleton Just like The lungs or the brain of a Gunther von Hagens Exposed For all to see. birds settle on the branches. they lark and fight for space, taking comfort in the company of the flock That is until it isContinue reading “Trees”

I remember

I remember sunrise over The Tay, walking home. I remember the woods where I hid The railway bridge Night asleep on cardboard Attack on a fun night-out Under the dining-room table Thickening ice inside bedroom window Looking left Then right Then left Then crossing And still looking, still looking