Another Flu Jab

Those fun-filled-frolickers who forecast the weather have delighted us by threatening snow for the morrow!  This appears to be funny in their eyes.  Now while snow can offer decent photographs it comes with other disadvantages, cold for a start slippy for another, dangerous for roads, old people, and me!  Brats throw snowballs at you, people spend their time grumbling about snow,(and I hate that) and buses and railways grind to a halt.  Cars that are driven are either slow or driven by untrained jet pilots with a death wish, and don't get me started on the slush that is left behind!

This also means that with a temperature of 2% tonight, thats 34% in English, the heating must be made to work, all this costs money!  I know this as I sit here now with my feet on the heater!  At gas central office they are breaking out the Bubbly already, just wait until January!

 

I was back this morning, in spite of the rain, to the surgery.  This time it was the Flu Jab.  The queue of aged people was long, but quickly parted to let me in to the Stasi.  She, I must say, was very cool in the heated atmosphere, lots of folks stumbling aroung hither and thither, some knowing where they were going, some not.  I, the youngest among them, was treated well by the Stasi, she even helpfully gave me the Blood Test result, nothing changed there, and sent me round to the old folks queue.   Five people were before me, except I was the only one on time!  I joked with the crew there before a nurse approached, called my name and off I went.  I must say these two nurses while efficient were not the cheeriest.  I suspect they have come in for the day to jab the Flu queue and then hop off to collect the kids.  Their men, if they have them, are welcome to their cheerless faces.   

All done I retreated to Sainsburys and Tesco, changed the bed, (it is nearly the end off the month) and set the washing machine going.  The day has been filled, or at least it has passed by quickly.  Now the darkness falls, the rush hour stumbles by slowly, the chill deepens and I am left wondering just how much snow will actually arrive tomorrow, if indeed it does. 

Because of an outcry in the past, by the grubby right-wing media, those weathermen are likely to 'Cry Wolf' to often these days just to avoid blame if it all goes wrong.  However, I will be residing indoors if the sun does not shine, the cupboards are full enough, the temptation to walk the chilly streets is not strong, and football might arrive.

 

Tuesday Twittering

It's the little things that hinder most.

I had orders to ttend the surgery for an 'Old Man's Test' at 11:35 today.  This meant I had to wash properly and ensure my clothes were not as scruffy as usual.  Having prepared I put on clean sox, there are plenty of them, most without holes, and here it was I struggled.  My feet appear to be much further away from me than they used to be.  Once upon a time I just got down and shoved sox on and moved.  Today I struggled.  My now expanded stomach does not help, even allowing for the recent exercise that has toned the fat, it still remains an obstacle for such jobs.  I may ask the nurse today if she can pop round in the mornings...

Update, no chance!

 

I slept well enough last night even though I lurched through some rubbish football. This featured an easy win for West Ham United, supported by so many around here.  The London overspill goes back many years.  West Ham itself was indeed part of Essex until the spread of houses took over so much of Essex it all became part of Greater London.  Few consider themselves in Essex in that region today.

By the end of the second world war I think the lines had been set.  Many out this way moved to just get out of the city, especially those with children, some for work, others just wanted a better life.  Today house developers cater to those with money who wish to move, the lower orders are not wanted in Tory lands, houses suitable are never developed.  Many West Ham footballers will however live in Essex, they can afford the prices for the mock Tudor buildings.  Funnily enough, there are many such buildings, mostly towards London, but when at the museum we had almost nothing on Tudor life in these parts, in spite of part of the Boleyn family being based down the road.  The English appear fascinated with Henry VIII, I fail to see why, many other bullying imperialist English kings make for better reading.

Early, I wandered round to greet the Stasi.  She was on the phone and ignoring me and also the beginning of a queue behind.  Eventually she placed her bets and began to deal with us poor mortals awaiting.  I pleaded my case, she fingered the cross and skullbone badge and gave orders. 

Obediently I entered the building, once she had unlocked the door, I than sprinkled my hands with the stuff in the container, once I found it, and took my seat. The nurse came on time, called me by name and ushered me into her cell.  

Here she probed, stuck a pin in, took blood, lots of it, placed it in one or two computerised measuring gadgets, weighed me, doubted my honest weight, gave instructions, informed me I was doing OK except for still being a fat slob.  Losing one stone, or whatever that is in metric, was not enough.  Leafleted, ordered, instructed, amongst which were no more drinking, no more fat breakfasts, no cheese, no more sausage rolls, etc, I was then thrust out into the street again.  

I promised to obey, to make every effort, to once more adjust the diet, especially as she has informed the doctor, who I may have to face, about my fat.  Hmmm... I may have to brush up on my communication skills, or flattery as it has been called if I meet her.

 

 

I forgot to inform the young lady, and all nurses look young to me these days, that I had finished a bottle of sweet red Greek wine yesterday.  She may have put that on the computer, so I forgot.  Then, having forgotten, I wandered up the road, bought six more bottles of this wine before the lorry driver shortage caused by Brexit leaves us short.  I had hoped this would get me 10% off but this did not occur.  However, I slunked off home, ensuring the nurse did not see what I was carrying, and returned to base.

Tomorrow the diet starts anew!

 

First LIne of Defence

During 1941 Adolf Hitler considered crossing the channel and invading the UK.  Operation Sea Lion was prepared.  He had not succeeded with the Luftwaffe attacks in the 'Battle of Britain,' he was very wary of the Royal Navy that patrolled the coast, and was well aware of the defences onshore.  Pill boxes, barbed wire, anti-landing craft devices, and pools of oil deliberately set alight awaited his men.  However, on noticing a long line of desks spaced out along each beachead he understood that the landing could not go ahead.  On each desk was placed a formidable Doctor's Receptionist, and the head of Germany realised nothing he possessed could get past one of those!

Today, I attempted to get past one of those.

At the end of the queue, attended late morning when the crowd had dispersed.

I waited.  

One by one patients were slapped down into place.  

Eventually I got to the window.  

I say window because under Covid we stand outside in all weathers and talk though a window to the Stasi representitive inside.  No consideration given regarding the weather.  

I enquired about the 'Shingles Jab' on offer to those pver er, 32, and also regarding seeing the nurse.  I was given a time, exact time, that afternoon for the jab and my questions ignored.  Regarding the nurse I was told "Phone up at 8 am in the morning to book."  The fact that 50 others will be doing the same was not emphasised!  

So I may be back at the window tomorrow before I am awake.

Not long before ten minutes to three I was back at the window, waiting. 

Someone was taking a while, a woman looked at me and her eyes over her mask indicated a sense of despair, he was taking a long time at the window.  Eventually he went, the next woman wasted my time as we despaired on the queue.  

I was saved by the Stasi asking if anyone had an appointment.

"ME!" I almost cried, and I jumped the queue.

"Indoors, use hand stuff, Waiting Room 'B.'" ordered the Gauleiter.

Off I trot.  The locked door is unlocked and I enter sloshing my hands in the magic liquid.

I find 'waiting room 'B.'' and wait.

I wait.

I wait again.

A nurse looks out from a door and asks why I am there, she walks down corridor, returns, says nothing and goes away.

A nurse comes up said corridor and passes by.

Sounds from corridor of talking and laughter.

I wait.

Eventually a woman of certain age comes out, and leaves by the outside door, the nurse turns and looks through me.

I wait.

My options are considered, however, just then the screen on the wall demands that no violence if offered to clinical staff.  This, it claims, is not right.

I wait.

Another, different, nurse appears from the corridor and ignores me.

A man enters, sits himself down without noticing me.

Such attitudes are not uncommon here these days.  I blame the London overspill.

I wait.

I continue waiting muttering about how busy NHS staff are and being happy to take my place and wait while more important people go before me.

I wait.

Shortly afterwards the first nurse reappears, calls the new man and he enters her door.

I wait, muttering about being first.

I wait.

An er, chubby nurse appears, ignores me, goes to fridge and removes what to me looks like the injection I am awaiting.  

Hope is kindled.

She passes me by and says nothing.

I wait again.

I have been stood standing here, all this time.  I did not wish to sit and be forced up quickly.  Pah!

I wait.

Then, glory be!  Chubby calls my name indistinctly.  I rush to her room.

She is pleasant. competent, asks all the right questions, by reading them of the screen I noticed, and talks amiably.  She prepares the needle, injects cheerfully, and throws me out by another door, happily informing me that it is raining.

Take away the wait and we have a smart, efficient system.  A good practice, well run, with good staff.

Oh yes, and the Stasi at the desk!

I may be back tomorrow to see the nurse...

 

Healthy Me...?

I reported as ordered to the nurse for the 'Old man's health check.'  
Reporting in dead on time the receptionist stopped cleaning her knuckledusters long enough to inform me I had to 'Log in' at the screen 'over there.'  I went 'over there' and confronted the blue screen (of death?' I thought) and began to answer the inquisition presented before me.  It is a good job I could remember my date of birth!  At last it recognised me, ordered me upstairs, and switched off.
Clumping upstairs, ideal I though for my knees, and more so for the older man with bad knees and walking stick awaiting his turn to fall down them, I found the waiting area and entered.  All things are down on screen these days.  Ahead of me a largish screen ordered return of unused medicines, demanded measles were vaccinated against and with a loud 'Ping'  ordered Mr Patient to Reception room 'A.'  As he was downstairs I cannot tell if he obeyed but I suspect he will.
I waited.
Refusing to sit as I expected to be called any minute I stared out the window at the new view, last time in here I met the witch doctor who disposed of me to quickly to allow me a glance out the window.  A jumble of buildings erected after the war, nearby some had been destroyed by bombing, the square practical but dated buildings looked so modern beside those aged hulks confronting the main street erected in the 19th century, some before that time.  Why do aged buildings look better than modern ones?  I read of Charles Dickens grumbling about the new Public houses that were springing up, either through new building or by renovation.  These he thought ghastly and criticised them all.  Now we are up in arms with anyone who wishes to destroy them!  Cheap labour helped obtain better looking buildings in the past, but often today we appear to build only monstrous edifices.  
I also noticed how the surgery had taken over several off the offices in the square build opposite, just above the pharmacy.  This small square surgery hopes to move to a monstrous needless new build in the town centre the council is spending £11 million of its own money on.  A Hotel we do not require, housing, restaurants and a doctors surgery will be built in spite of nobody wanting this and with money better spent where it is required.  The Tory council however will build whatever we say.
Last time I had a problem I saw the Nurse Practitioner, a kind of lesser doctor, who was excellent but having to make use of a large cupboard to see patients.  Some remedial work has been done but the space is too small.  That said if they move and make me walk 5 minutes to them rather than one minute I will not object.  However as this building will remove one car park and the taxi rank replacing them with nothing whatsoever I doubt those who have to travel by car will be pleased, the parking here is bad enough.
The 'Ping' came and at last my name appeared.
I crossed the floor into Room 5 where I met an attractive personable young lady who, like all nurse, can kill at 30 paces.  I followed instructions, I heeded comments, I accepted the Blood Pressure thing strangling my arm all without complaint.  The needle in the fingertip "You might feel a jab," said she, and she was right.  Wiping the blood of the ceiling we continued.
These days all measurements are made by these little computers.  Surprisingly they informed my my Cholesterol was 4.3 which is considerably down from 5 years ago!  'Benecol' margarine has helped, she said that lowers cholesterol by 7%, and that is helped by eating other things like porridge.  She knew about porridge having a Glasgow mother she had seen a lot of that!  Sugar was 5.3, and as my blood pressure was normal, only the need to lose a stone and exercise more was required.  
I was amazed!
Before I entered in trepidation I expected a list of horrid foods to eat to alter my diet,  a telling off for being a 'Fat slob' as last time, this lass was, er..plump herself, so maybe that is why she kept quiet, and here I was being informed that in spite of it all I was healthy!
Right, pasta tonight, veg tomorrow, then chocolate....

My treatment was FREE as it was the NHS.  

   

This however is what an American paid, in the 'Land of the Free,'

 for treatment on a knee infection.

Jab Boris and Donald in Abbey Road

I rose early this Saturday morn and scrubbed myself clean.  I then breakfasted on what they call 'Mediterranean Bread,' a type of bread I doubt would be recognised anywhere in the Mediterranean precincts, swallowed half a cup of tepid coffee and reported at the surgery as ordered for my 'Flu Jab.'
Here I was somewhat surprised to be confronted with what I thought was the local 'Derby & Joan' club outing.  The lace was 'choc a block' with aged people either struggling to take off the jackets or replace them.  Walking sticks crashed to the floor while others fell over handbags left lying around, grumbling and smiles swapped places, chairs were filled with grim impatient faces, men no longer as young as they feel jauntily left the premises confident they would survive another year unlike their forefathers in times past.
I reported to the young Fuhrer at reception.
She logged me in, handed me a piece of paper with details regarding the vaccine, ordered me to remove my jacket and go round the corner and sit down.
This latter order I obeyed after clicking my heels and goose stepping away though I did not realise there were seats 'round the corner.' In fact the addition of two ex-shipping containers it looked to me had given them additional spaces and renovations now meant seats were placed where a nurse used to terrify patients.   
I took my place apart from a miserable looking couple in their 70's,  others entered, fussed with their sticks, handbags, removing jackets and sitting down to be called immediately and fussed with their sticks, handbags and standing up to wander slowly away as the nurse called for them a third or fourth time.  
We sat watching, no one moved.  
The caring society watched as receptionists aplenty wandered about seeking people who did not answer as they had sat elsewhere, nurses also called for victims as those who had been jabbed happily exited to waste their lives enjoying themselves in the worlds pleasure gardens which fill this area.  
A nurse in a red top called my name, I moved swiftly removing my jacket exposing my cheap short sleeved shirt, an item similar to one almost all the men wore while the women came dressed for the chilly weather, and entered treatment room 2.
Having almost tripped on the slight incline on the short path the nurse, probably a retired one called in for such a day as this judging by her age, commentated on this giving the impression this was a regular occurrence.  I sat where I was told, between the receptionist logging me onto her screen while preventing my escape and offered my arms to the nurse.  Flu jab in left arm, "This one might hurt later," said the nurse reaching my other arm with the Pneumonia jab she offered in such a way that I could not refuse.
 "Later?" I thought just as I said "Ow! I felt that."
She smiled the smile nurses have when they enjoyed others pain as he receptionist giggled.  Clearly I was not the first!
"Told you," she said gleefully then threw me out.
I struggled to get past half coated people of various sizes, some making their way in to the seating area, some attempting to leave while fastening jackets again.  I exchanged pleasantries with another satisfied customer as we left, both amazed at the efficiency of the staff and the number of aged persons in the confined area.  We did not attempt to guess how many were regulars but I suspect most of the women were.
I know have two stab marks on my arms.  I am protected from Flu and Pneumonia and will be sick with colds all winter.  You wait and see!

Politico

What with Donald Trump possibly impeaching himself and Boris Johnson magnificently celebrating his wonderful 'Deal' which fell apart in around 24 hours we might be in a position to see changes in the higher reaches of society.  Donald has been tweeting constantly regarding those who are 'against' him according to his view of the world, and Johnson has gone into hiding with Carrie this weekend (unless he has found someone else).  Either way the media are more upset with a US 'Diplomat' who drove out of an American Airbase, well RAF actually, drove on the wrong side of the road, killed an innocent Motorcyclist who was in the right and fled back to the US to avoid justice.
The 'Special Relationship' does not mean a lot to some Americans.  Hopefully she will return to face the Law of England and Wales, a much superior law to that of the Vengeful US law.   At the moment she is not showing much concern for the relatives of the young man however.   I hope Boris leaves Carrie long enough to chat to Donald about this. 
Meanwhile Trump i unabashed at asking the Ukraine to investigate his feared rival and has apparently also asked China and I believe Thailand also to help 'dig the dirt.'  I am sure Chinese laptop users already know more than Trump does about his man.  Boris has not been asked it seems, maybe Trump thought that was a waste of time?  Boris has of course got the time to investigate, he had intended to meet the EU but they would not as his deal was flat so he has been studying hard at No 10 instead.  Hmmm I bet...

As it is 50 years since the Beatles 'Abbey Road' was released I listened again on YouTube to this 'iconic' album.  I was somewhat disappointed.  'Abbey Road' was never their greatest album and was completed while Paul and John fought with one another over who was boss.  To have any album was something yet they also produced the disappointing 'Let it Be' later.  However, in some ten years they had turned the music world upside down, produced a great many solid tracks, developed recording techniques greatly and become popular worldwide, not bad really.  
The tracks that sucked most I always consider were those Paul produced.  On this album some strange things appear and Paul was responsible surely for 'Maxwell's Silver Hammer,' a track of dubious quality and content.  I always thought girlies wanted baby faced Paul while men required to hear more from John, even if he was slightly round the bend (slightly?).   Many believe the wrong one was shot!  And that was in 1980!  That is now 39 years ago!  

Ooooo Nurse.

At two minutes to eight this morning I made my way round the corner to the surgery.  I decided something needs to be done about (Censored) and a visit to the nurse was required.  The present system used by the surgery to obtain an appointment is simple, turn up at eight in the morning and be first in the queue!  The surgery has far too many patients because this town keeps growing and growing and this is the best doctors around.  As far as I know no new patients are being admitted here.  However I had to join the queue standing outside the building as the door had not yet been opened and there were at least twenty people standing in the cold draught shivering.  The usual grumbles for aged relics who consider they ought to be treated better than this were heard, "Third world doctors" was one.  "My Alf says that and he knows, he was in Nigeria for seven years," says another.  I mused on the highly efficient and helpful staff at the surgery, the expensive modern equipment, the staff attitude itself and mentally compared this to a Nigerian hospital.  In spite of 82% of heat there in Lagos I think I would prefer our staff here thanks very much.  The disgraceful approach of the Conservative Party in attempting to turn the NHS, the greatest thing the UK has ever produced, into an American style insurance theft health service is the only problem we have in our NHS.  Ideology will not fix the problems better management and sensible policies will enable the NHS to run smoothly but these will not be tolerated under a Tory government, money, not people comes first there!
The queue made its way indoors and queued in some degree of warmth.  One lass at reception handled the queue, firmly and kindly in my opinion, while the other dealt with the many attempting to book an appointment by telephone, only one line being open!  Slowly but surely people were dealt with, some smiling happily and taking seats near the appropriate office, others grumbling, snarling and decidedly not chuffed.  Of course such people could pay to go private and always get an appointment and anything else they are stupid enough to pay for but I prefer to queue like everyone else in the country and give regard to the purpose of the NHS.  One man coughed incessantly throughout causing dirty looks, expressions of disgust and shuffling feet attempting to avoid him but I carried on anyway.  Old wifies struggled to stand leaning on their walking sticks, young men listened to rubbish music quietly on their ipods others just suffered the indignity of having to wait your turn in a manner unknown in some countries.  I noticed a pile of magazines three copies wide and about two foot high on the table.  Sunday colour supplements, women's gossip mags and the occasional kids book lay among them.  I wondered if there was actually anything worth reading in that pile of magazines?  I also wondered how many bugs had been left on the pages by all those sick people who had been rifling through them while waiting for their name to be called.  Somewhere in that pile were sufficient virii to keep this surgery busy for years to come, I declined to browse them.  When as a lad I was taken to our doctor in Edinburgh I was very unhappy that the only magazines on offer were 'Golf' or the 'Edinburgh Illustrated News' and 'Tatler.' These magazines full of pictures of the great and the good fiddling taxes and taking backhanders while attending 'charity' functions in town did not appeal then and do not appeal now.  I much preferred the barbers in Davidsons Mains up the road from us he provided old 'National Geographic' magazines dated 1932.  As a child of nine or ten I liked these as they contained black and white photos of half naked black women and these interested me though I was not sure why.  I may go back one day and see if he is still open.    
The man in front of me reached the desk as the sun began to shine on the trees outside and not unnaturally he had a query that took time to organise, why me I ask?  My turn came and quickly it was dealt with by the efficient dragon staff behind the glass, a time was given and I left to visit Tesco.

On the way back from Tesco I wondered at my ability to buy big things all at the same time.  This means the one bag I possess (one of those 'bag for life' jobs that last around three months if they don't rip) was not big enough for all I wish to place therein.  How come I buy them all at once and not in a sensible manner?  My packing ability is great I need not tell you but even I struggled this morning as the half dim lassie looked on unhelpfully.  Normally the girls here are awake, friendly and efficient, this was a bad day for this one.  Just imagine what it must be like sitting facing customers in such a place day after day?  Could you cope with this?  The slow, the banal, the mentally dead, the occasional zombie and worse still the retired man who has all day to gossip about nothing and happily holds up the queue while he laughs and jokes as he packs his three items.  Dealing with these daily could lead me into speaking 'out of turn.'  There is also the fiddling with cards and change, the women who stand there reading the bill checking every price instead of getting out of others way, the one woman who notes a mistake and calls for the manager, usually over three or four pence.  And then there is the managers, in this company they are not always sweetness and light according to those in the know.  Most supervisors here are good but watching some of the bitchy women managers and noting our own recent problems I can see one or two in this shop reaching high up the corporate ladder, however what they find there will not satisfy them I reckon.   I prefer my little shop where the customers and staff are better behaved.

When I returned to the surgery for my appointment to see about (Still Censored) the nurse was as welcoming as always. 
"Sit!" she ordered, I sat.
"What now?"
I said my piece.
"Bah! Is that all?"
She spat this out while holding a huge hypodermic needle and looking at my arm with a fielding expression. She typed into the computerised system, gave instructions and mentioned somewhat obliquely the idea of cutting of my legs from below the knee.
"Was this a requirement?" I asked aghast.
"No," she replied, "But it would be a giggle."
Grasping the prescription I made for the door.
"It's locked," she grinned fiendishly.
My experience of nurses in previous employments came back to me at this moment and I left via the window, something I had much training for in times past.
I may have to go back in two weeks...

Maudlin Monday

The young nurse (they are all young to me) at the surgery mentioned how lucky I was to be retired. "I'm busier than ever," said I, not letting on that I was lying.  I would be busier if I did all those jobs that need doing however!  So passing me fit and demanding I return in two weeks to prove I am still alive I made my way back to the laptop to continue rewriting the writing that I wrote before.  This indicated many mistakes so it was lucky I did this but not so lucky that any time I moved the format changed and required resetting.  Why must computers behave like women I ask you?  

Sitting here chewing my dried dates, figs and small red things I notice that the healthy 'Sweet Papaya Cubes' are 42% papaya and 58% sugar!  How healthy is that?  Natural sugar is one thing but I wonder... Still I suppose all this is doing me good, oranges, apples, lemons, fish, fish in tins, frozen fish, if I eat any more I will grow fins!  I did manage to pump up the tyres on the bike and soon I will be trundling along on it.  The poor thing has lain still so long it is filthy.  I should clean it first but canny be bothered!  It will work, I hope.

I have the eye of the tiger, the heart of a lion, and a lifetime ban from the zoo.

I ignored the media today for the most part.  Too much propaganda, too much for my brain especially as I had so much that I wasn't doing!  Some got done by the simple means of not trawling through the press to comment on English dickheads sayings.  I even cleaned the sink!  It is a white colour right enough! Tomorrow I will report to the museum, possibly take the laptop to finish what I am writing and spend the rest of the day putting David Cameron clones in their place.  

  

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Now What Seems to be the Trouble...

So I coughed my way into the surgery this morning, earlier than my body wished, and was confronted by a friendly, efficient receptionist.  She answered my few questions and without raising an eye answered patiently when  asked if this nurse had a police record.  The negative answer was encouraging but I always wonder if receptionists tell the truth.
With visions of Hancock's 'The Blood Donor,' running through my mind I discovered the nurse, like all nurses, was personable, efficient, attractive and professional, as I expected.  This being the NHS it was also free, not counting all the taxes I have paid over the years of course.  A well run surgery in spite of crowded conditions.  The immigrants into town in recent years, mostly from London it must be said, have led to overcrowding as people commute to work, the town being ideal for those with young families.  At one point the surgery closed itself to new folks signing on as they could not cope.  
Today the modernised surgery abounds with electronic gadgets, my computerised medical record (sold by this government without our permission to who knows who), a machine to gauge my (higher than it ought) Blood pressure plus a small gadget ("I don't know what makes it work," she said encouragingly) used to measure the blood, cholesterol good and bad, and other things.  The blood pressure was up, possibly it was the fear of a needle, but all else was as expected.  The result she said gently and with great care, is that I am a big fat slob!  The list of banned foods (cheese, no more cheese - I'll die!) is enormous, the exercise I must now increasingly indulge in is well,... impossible! All I have to do is lose two stones of ugly fat, by tomorrow or she said I must report to Mr Robinson in Manor Street.
Mr Robinson is an undertaker.
Oh yes, and she booked me in to see her friend in a fortnight, and booked it herself 'in case I forgot!' My blood pressure is rising again...

I began my exercise straight away after a small lunch.  Well after a small lunch actually.  I wandered around the town, the first time for a week, and felt knackered!  How can I be like this?

Transfer deadline day and many will find themselves watching Jim "I support Rangers" White as he explodes from within with fake excitement as the day nears its end.  This day can surely cause excitement for many but with football prices reaching stratospheric levels not all clubs can participate. However with clubs desperate to climb the league, avoid relegation struggles or feel the need to impress others with their cash flow players at all levels will move today, sometimes surprisingly.  I doubt it will involve the Heart of Midlothian as we have brought several quality players in already but there is always the possibility someone will feel the need to spend large amounts of cash on our exciting young talents.  I will avoid Jim White myself, I have felt sick enough this past few weeks, and will pick up relevant news as and when.  

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Rough

Feeling rough, send nurse.....

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