Today I only had one appointment, which was to go and give blood at 2.10. I'd made this booking at the end of the last session, but when I arrived at the Merchant Taylor's Hall, they had no record of it. However, I was processed quickly and I got as far as the blood iron test, to check I'm not anaemic. I'd been told at the last session that I could apply to be a platelet donor, so at this juncture I said that I was interested. So when I was lying down, a nurse came to check my veins, and as they were OK, some blood was taken for testing for platelets. I was told that if I was accepted for platelet donation, I wouldn't be able to give blood, but would be asked to go to Leeds every 4 weeks and donate platelets... the blood is taken out, the platelets removed and the blood returned. And, the best thing of all, each platelet donation counts as two blood donations. This was my 26th blood donation, so in theory, I could be on my 50th in a year's time!!! I think that's cheating, actually!
Anyway, my blood flowed nice and quickly and I had a juice and a biscuit, filled in a complaints/feedback form about the booking procedure and also being called 'Mr', which I don't like, and zoomed off.
At about 4pm I went round to Debbie's with some Green Party leaflets, and we walked down to Fishergate to do a round that someone else wasn't able to do. We walked back through the allotments, and just as Deb was saying that she'd love some rhubarb, I spotted Carol, working next to her rhubarb patch. I asked her about her rhubarb and said that Debbie had just been saying she'd like to take some and leave some coins in return... and Carol said she could have some. This made Debbie's day, apparently!
After tea, I spent some time stacking the very dry wood from John Bibby's tree trunk... I have a phenomenal amount to do, over 2 cubic metres of it.
Later, I had a phone call from my Aunty, saying she didn't want me to come to my Uncle's funeral on Wednesday. She was worried that a particular family member who doesn't understand or like my lifestyle would cause a scene, so it would be best if I didn't come. I was quite upset as I didn't realise how much my perceived lifestyle has threatened this person, but I'll go and visit my Aunty another time. I certainly don't want to be on the receiving end of loud criticism at a funeral.
Anyway, my blood flowed nice and quickly and I had a juice and a biscuit, filled in a complaints/feedback form about the booking procedure and also being called 'Mr', which I don't like, and zoomed off.
At about 4pm I went round to Debbie's with some Green Party leaflets, and we walked down to Fishergate to do a round that someone else wasn't able to do. We walked back through the allotments, and just as Deb was saying that she'd love some rhubarb, I spotted Carol, working next to her rhubarb patch. I asked her about her rhubarb and said that Debbie had just been saying she'd like to take some and leave some coins in return... and Carol said she could have some. This made Debbie's day, apparently!
After tea, I spent some time stacking the very dry wood from John Bibby's tree trunk... I have a phenomenal amount to do, over 2 cubic metres of it.
Later, I had a phone call from my Aunty, saying she didn't want me to come to my Uncle's funeral on Wednesday. She was worried that a particular family member who doesn't understand or like my lifestyle would cause a scene, so it would be best if I didn't come. I was quite upset as I didn't realise how much my perceived lifestyle has threatened this person, but I'll go and visit my Aunty another time. I certainly don't want to be on the receiving end of loud criticism at a funeral.
2 comments:
You don't like being called 'Mr'?
I don't lke any title, I always ask people to call me John, despite it being a boring name, it IS my name.
The word Mister or Mr has no meaning, as far as I can ascertain. I have no problem with a woman using Miss to show pre-marital status, Mrs as post marital, Ms as mind your own business as to whether married or not, but women too should be allowed to be called by their given name with no title. I have no problem with someone choosing to use their earned title, such as Dr or Professor, but they too should be allowed to not reveal that.
If I HAVE to be given a title, I'll accept 'John Cossham Esquire' as it is equally meaningless in a modern world, but makes me giggle as it's so stupid, but Mr makes me squirm, as I just don't feel like a Mister. I ALWAYS ask people not to use it, and ask organisations to not use it on letters etc addressed to me.
However sure I am of my feelings over this one, I have no idea why I don't like it. One pointer might be that I remember my father, who is Dr Cossham, always correcting people who called him Mr. And I am very like him... I find myself saying things just like him, sitting in the chair like him, my signature is identical, etc etc etc....
John
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