Flatback Caper

I think, more or less, this blog is a year old today. Woo-Hoo.
There's probably some naval gazing to be done about this... but later.

Nights are almost done; for this run, anyway. Although I'm on again next weekend. My rota has seem me working a one in two lately. I'm not sure why, but shit happens I guess. Next weekend will be my fifth on in eight. Old school. Love it.

I think I've kinda missed Hallowe'en, although we had a few freaks in last night, including one young lady wearing the shortest skirt I have ever seen. I know I'm getting old now, because my first thought was: My belt is thicker than that, followed by: I bet she's cold. I was impressed by how adeptly one of my SHOs worked the board to ensure he ended up seeing her...

Continuing my musings on parents, I saw a fella, who I'm guessing was in his 30s, admitted after a fight. He had sustained mostly superficial wounds, and I think the damage was more psychological than anything - certainly his life was never in danger - but his dad, a man of 72, sat with him all night. Possessed of quiet dignity, this softly spoken man sought me out often to enquire after his son, and I did my best to reassure him. I was struck by the way he would quietly step aside from time to time before returning to his son's side. He used these 'asides' to surrender to his own feelings, small tears breaking through his defences for a few minutes, before he'd cuff them away, recover himself and go back to his son.

I guess we never really grow up while our parents are still around