Glasgow – Dr Rod’s Odd Blog (almondemotion)

You get what you pay for. (this is not a happy one)

No, not the climate, not the uncollected bins, the zero hours, no, not the Shitty White Men travelling on purpose-built spaceships that fly over the filth and poverty of a world falling apart, all of it together.

Shuggie Bain; not a book review

It is a wonderful poetic chaos of characters, moods and emotions.

BAME, BME and me

The colour of our skin is various, the shape of our face, head and hair, yet, our eyes, seem a constant.

He has brown eyes doesn’t mean a thing.

The last big weekend of the Lockdown*

The weather has changed; yesterday we were basking in too-hot sun, today, the wind and clouds have gathered.

Where you from?

I gave this guy, who to me appeared to be of Greek or Turkish origin himself (with the assumption that I would answer him, ‘From Ankara…’) the response I used last week

On the stroke ward, breast cancer and other experiences of care

Overcoming our own fears, preconceptions and biases is surely a hope for the future as we continue to grow as a community.

HD

What brought this into perspective was the 1985 Top of The Pops that we watched afterwards; John Peel had hair; Bon Jovi and the Human League featured.

The sound of the cistern is scary.

Would smoke

One Lambert & Butler after another

Care home home

He had a room, a bed, chair and view of Maxwell park.

Vos Machst du?

We had a patient in the ward recently. I won’t say exactly where she came from, but suffice it to say, she originated in one of the Baltic states – that is, a country neighbouring the Baltic Sea. I have always found the Baltic the funniest sea, mainly because of its use in Glasgow slang…Continue reading “Vos Machst du?”

Slime

I have in my garage, transported from my last office, a spinning top that used to belong to my mum.

There was a thing

Respect for ourselves, respect for one another, seeing those around you as equal to you, listening their opinion. Deference, caring, kindness. This is my religion and political affiliation.

What is it with butchers?

The butcher, is after all several rungs above Tevye as he struggles with the milk-round.

Kafka then Kerouac then Levi

When I was Perhaps 18 I would spend hours in town in Glasgow Between book shops. Borders Waterstones Books etc. John Smith’s And that was before you went down the West End With the second-hand stores. We didn’t have Foyles We never needed it. This one is for Nigel & Papa

Mr W-M

Tight, curly, hair. T would gasp episodically When we talked. His rheumy eyes, the after-effects of the ague would half-close as he leaned-back Inhaling deeply on the B&H. I never really understood his story, refugee via Tigray. I never understood His arrival in Glasgow in the 80’s. His dry skinContinue reading “Mr W-M”

Colin

I can remember His name. Colin lived down the road from me in Glasgow. I think he was adopted, or, perhaps, Some other mystique. He always reminded me of the actor from the Man from Uncle – Ilya Kuryakin* Something About his eyes And hair. Anyway. I don’t know why,Continue reading “Colin”

Apple-pie

Every time my brother Lloyd returned from University, back in the 70’s, My mum would make him an apple pie. She had a special tray that had wavy walls and a base that could lift-out. It’s Lloyd’s favourite was the excuse – perhaps, I can’t remember me or any of my other siblingsContinue reading “Apple-pie”

Something medical.

We debated yesterday during the ward round, as to whether I should discontinue one of my patient’s medicines. 85, he’s not in good shape; struggles to walk, confused at night, the stroke ten years ago took his ability to speak. Of all the drugs that are forced upon him morning and night, one is toContinue reading “Something medical.”

On the basis

On the basis of not being able to write a full sentence About the homeless people I saw on the streets of Glasgow this week; It is probably easier for me to reflect my thoughts thus… Costa* cups, the receptacles. Drowsy men and women, some with swollen livers others, dead-eyed, sedated by opiateContinue reading “On the basis”

Non-narrative

It’s odd. When I try to write anything about my past – childhood or later years; It always comes-out like this. I cannot seem to string a sentence together that reaches the end of the line; or, at least not consistently. It is as if the past is encoded as fragments asContinue reading “Non-narrative”

Dream

There are few things worse than listening to someone talk about their dreams; unless you are a soothsayer, a Pharaoh, or, perhaps, chatting with your children as they relate their anxieties. A few days ago, I had a strange dream – I wouldn’t go as far as saying it was ‘vivid’ – suffice to say,Continue reading “Dream”

Summer garden

Dandelions Coarse grass Uneven flagstone, moss leaching-out Roughcast wall Safety glass and patterned net curtain; chafing the tongue Worms Clayey clumps of mud, black with pottery fragments and coal Rhubarb, roses and caterpillars asleep in lilac leaves Rain Drizzle, musty, condensation Sunday afternoon

Visiting times

I am sure I have written about this before, in relation to my thoughts about the whole visiting times situation in the UK. Thanks to the work of John’s Campaign, the status quo is being eroded and the wards are being unlocked. For me, I return to questioning where my passion for this came-from; IContinue reading “Visiting times”