Team meeting and Festival

Festival campsite, August 2018

At work we had a team meeting for the Diabetes Dietitians where the Dietetic Manager came to tell us all about the Outpatient Project that she's in charge of implementing. I like the DM a lot - for example she introduced patients Bob, Bobina and Bobetta to illustrate various points. Anyway, this Outpatient Project involves reviewing and re-classifying every one of our many outpatient clinics in order to be able to assess our capacity and understand exactly who we are seeing, how long they wait for an appointment, how long their appointments are, how many times we see them, what we do if they don't attend, and much more. There are a few niggles that still need sorting out which are a bit too technical and boring to describe here.

The rest of the meeting without the DM was just as complicated, as our new Team Leader tries very hard to understand how things have ended up as they have, and impose some sort of discipline and order onto the amorphous mess. It is even possible, if she is tenacious enough, that she may get to the bottom of the conundrum about how my post is funded and how exactly I should handle various complex administrative situations. Again, too technical and boring to go into here.

The day before the meeting, as is traditional, I checked the previous meeting's minutes to see if I had been given anything to do. I noticed that I had been asked to find out whether the doctors where I work have any official referral criteria to describe who they will and won't see. I asked the most amenable of the four doctors who work here, and he said that he didn't, but if he were to write some then his guidance to GPs would be "No stupid referrals." When pressed, he elaborated that a referred patient should have diabetes, and that the GP should have done something about it before referring them. Good enough for me. I wasn't asked for this information at the meeting, thankfully.

Then came the Bank Holiday weekend in which I went to the Shrewsbury Folk Festival. This was my second year there, and I have to admit it wasn't as good as the first, but that was down to a) the wet and windy weather, b) no Oysterband this year, and c) my failure to pack any bedding. After I'd arrived and put up the tent I realised that I'd brought no sleep mat, sleeping bag or duvet. So I went home again and fetched them.

This ruined my plan for a lazy Friday to include a walk into Shrewsbury for lunch at the sushi place I found last year, but actually only postponed the plan until Saturday, when the weather was fairly nice. The rain came with a vengeance on Sunday, but with a watertight tent and all the sound stages under cover it wasn't much of a problem. Highlights this year were all the female singers - The Fitzgeralds, Gretchen Peters, Edwina Hayes, Miranda Sykes with Show of Hands and Maddy Prior with Steeleye Span. What voices they have! I was too tired to see the end of the Steeleye Span set, but lying down in my tent I could hear the strains of the classic "All Around My Hat" with full audience participation.

Back home after the festival weekend and Ilf arrived at his usual crack of dawn next day to make a start on the decoration of the Screening Room. There is still no sign of a screen for the screening room - my TV woes continue, and the second scheduled delivery of a replacement television was also cancelled by the selling company. They refused to speak on the phone and were only willing to converse by email, so I lost confidence in them, withdrew my order and am now awaiting my full refund. Shortly afterwards I set up a profile on the Shpock platform with a view to selling the old sofabed mattress, but then on a whim I bought a temporary replacement TV for £20 so at least I can watch DVDs. When I have the strength, I will go back to the large TV project. And sell the mattress.

On the subject of selling, regular readers may remember that I was all enthusiastic after checking out my local car boot sale. You may also have noticed that the summer is over and I haven't done anything more about it.

Morris Dancers in Shrewsbury - and no, I have no idea why