Christmas minus eleven days and it seems my ex-step brother is joining us in the blue mountains next weekend. He's back in Warrington right now so I think jet lag may be on the cards.
At work today we had a child fall ill with a febrile convulsion during playgroup.
"Call for medical assistance" said Allanah. I ran to the reception desk but Kath wasn't there so I picked up the phone myself and dialled 0 for an outside line.
And now what? What's the number for the emergency services? I don't know.
For a moment I stood frozen, feeling totally helpless. Then it came to me I'd seen 000 on an emergency services poster so I dialled that and got the nice lady on the other end.
"Where are you?" she asked. I could tell her the name of the road but didn't know the number so I had to go fishing about for some letter-headed paper.
"What's the nearest cross street?". Now she's really testing my observation skills. "And how's it spelt?"
"And finally, what's the phone number there please?". Once again I was fishing for the letter-headed paper.
She might just have said "Where the bloody hell are you?" because I could have replied "I haven't a bloody clue".
The child's parents returned later in the afternoon to collect her things. Despite the fact she frequently has convulsions, she'd had every test under the sun including a CT scan and MRI. There's no way she'd have received that under the NHS. On the other hand, the ambulance cost them $800 to travel half a mile. That's much more expensive than flying first class.
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