Love family f*ck neighbours

As summer creeps in I am meeting more and more tourists who are either pleased or surprised that I am still here. It always makes me smile that people don’t know me well enough to know that I am not a quitter, they all think that there was another way out.

I like to think that you guys know that I am made of stronger stuff, I was never built to fail. My devotion to the task at hand has got me through my career and has helped build the Plough into the pub she is now, it has also destroyed many aspects of my life and aged me immeasurably but hey it is who I am. I was once told, by a company director, that there were dogs with bones queuing up to learn tenacity from an expert. quite simply, in the absence of skill or talent, I hang on better than anyone and fight my corner without a break.

One of today’s conversations revolved around the need for “3 or 4 holidays a year” and matey couldn’t see how that was not a basic need. I explained that I have been no further than the old village in 18 months and he was concerned for my mental health, another one that doesn’t understand the machine that is Gav.

In another chat over the weekend somebody was aghast that I could be single (hey they were drunk) and I had to explain… I am a stubborn, single-minded man who has, by all accounts, rescued and changed the fortunes of this old lady that is not ‘day job’. This is not something you do ‘on the side’ this is an all-consuming passion that spares nobody, the Plough is my vampire slowly draining life from me.

Anyway enough of that I have a rant to share…. My live music on Sunday afternoon was not accepted by all, somebody was not happy. So I am in a high street pub and as such I have neighbours, not one of whom lives in a property as old as the Plough. My recent (less than a year) neighbours took my live music so badly that they felt the need to ring me and complain. Apparently the ‘intolerable’ noise level had left them locked in their home unable to open a window or door for respite.

To put this in perspective, I checked my external noise level (the doors were open) and it was certainly no louder than the local con club is at eleven o’clock on a Saturday (let me remind you this was a Sunday afternoon). In fact the pub was much quieter than the sound system in many of the cars queuing in the street in the summer or the noise from some of the flats as I walk along the street.

Obviously I am (compelled to be) a ‘good neighbour’ and shut the new double glazed doors, after all its better for a packed pub to sweat than two miserable pr*cks over the road isn’t it? Can you tell I am a little annoyed? You moved opposite a town centre pub what did you actually expect? Better than that they actually complimented me on the work that I am doing on the pub and how good it looks. Think about this for a moment, how do they think that this is funded? do they seriously imagine Bob with his crossword and pipe is funding massive renovations? The sweaty, sticky lunacy of Sunday is what pays my bills in short it is what I do for a living.

I hope they manage to bring in ‘agent of change’ and when they do I will turn up with a wreath made out as ‘f*ck you’ and lay it on their drive. Even as a punter these people sicken me, they never use a pub but like that it’s not flats. They love that a local pub adds value to their home but feel put out if it interferes with their life. I am a real pub I live in the real world, we party, we argue, we are society get bloody used to it!

If these halfwits had checked the public register with licensing they would have found I can have live music until midnight 7 days a week. If they had looked over the road we weren’t even double glazed when they purchased. A look over the road would also have confirmed that I trade one of two bars, I am entitled to trade two. We are not a bad neighbour, we work tirelessly to improve the standing of the Plough but we are a pub not a church, people come here to have fun. If you can’t stand a little noise bleed on a hot Sunday afternoon do not buy opposite a pub!

Pubs are a wicked existence that few are insane enough to suffer. In three and a half years I have never gone to bed on the same day as the one that I woke up in, think about that for a bit. If these morons want to live here then they need to get used to, and be bloody grateful for, our ways.

Always nice to leave on a positive note though so here goes. On Saturday I got a random call from our Lucy (my first barmaid), for whatever reason she found herself homeless and upset on the island and homed in on the Plough. Ignore the talk of money, the way the pub is or building improvements they are not so important it is plough family that is important. Being a port of call for my 20 year old ex barmaid in times of trouble is touching, I love my Plough family.

Being quizzed about the current staff by a girl who hasn’t worked for me in two years and having my product choices questioned by said panda eyed girl is what makes me proud. Working at the Plough doesn’t make you family, there is no fast track adoption process, some are family and they will always be that is just how it is. It is a tradition started by Shorty at the Ship and carried on by Nick, Lucy and Ellie the Plough family. Neither me nor the Plough could be prouder or more grateful for the family we have and the Plough stands as testament to each of you, every #plough or cabbage patch moment that we share makes me immensely proud of the thing that WE are building, thank you team Plough.

 

Bathroom orienteering and stubborn fizz

Those of you who know me will know that I suffer from a formidable stubborn streak, this is not something that the nefarious Ms Nature gets along with. When I awoke this morning, after the ritual “ouch” caused by sleeping on a shoulder that I cannot sleep on without generating said exclamation, I realised that the knee was not in best of shape.

My knee not wanting to play is very common and I am used to it so I went about my morning without straightening that leg, well almost. Whilst brushing my teeth my mind wandered and I felt compelled to straighten the leg out and see ‘if it was that bad’ after all I am firm believer in mind over matter. The result was, I guess, inevitable and found me collapsed on the floor in pain. I would like to say that I have learnt from this experience but I think that we both know this is not the case.

In other falling over related news I can tell you that in the early hours of Saturday morning I awoke for a toilet break and was most proud that I remembered the presence of an acrow prop outside of the bathroom door. With my mental map fully updated I headed to the bathroom and avoided the gaping hole in the floor only to stub my toe on the board that the acrow sits atop before headbutting said steel pole. I think that this is what they call suffering for your art!

In other Ms Nature alerts the new movements associated with cutting and splitting wood have given her the opportunity to play up but I think that she is weakening. The current sensation is a continuous ‘fizzing’ in both wrists interspersed with occasional stabbing pain. I appreciate that fizzing is not the most descriptive of explanations but it really is the most accurate that I can come up with, it’s just like the fluids in the wrists are churning continuously. This is, of course, just posturing from Ms Nature and will subside once I beat her into submission and she accepts the new movements required.

It would be wrong of me not to take this opportunity to update you on the works at the Plough, this week is a slow week while we await the delayed steel but things are still looking pretty good….. terrifying but good.

Below is one of the two loads of rubble that have been removed to make a lighter, fitter pub.

This little guy didn’t spot the impending doom of a chimney being sealed up.

Starting to take shape.

Can you see what it is yet?

Nearly through.

The new room with temporary skylights !

Empty jam and streetwalkers

I have had a number of people ask me for an update on my current health status so I shall start there today. I am struggling to beat Ms Nature down but, like any pigheaded man, I haven’t let that stop me.  Mornings and evenings are becoming more painful as the wrists seek to reduce my ‘window of operation’ and righty has remembered what fun it is to generate sharp spasms at random times.

Of course I have considered the increased levels of pain and the potential causes and consequences and arrived at a structured plan to rehabilitate. There are two facets to my plan, the first is to ignore any pain and the second is to increase the exercise. My approach has yet to yield improvements but I am confident that a good dose of stubborn will change that in due course.

In other news I think I experience cabbie jealousy over the weekend when picking up my children. Despite several attempts at conversation the driver was resolutely mute until my children got in the car, at which point he wouldn’t shut up. This was more than just conversation, I swear every time my daughter opened her mouth he had to tell a better story, there was a definite case of “he is my friend”.

I would also like to share with you the insanity of tourists. On Sunday I watched as a couple slowly realised that there was no longer a rush to get their young child to the toilet, nothing unusual in that. They proceeded to change said child’s clothing and pack up the rest of their kit and at this point made an odd decision. They placed the wet, or more accurately soiled, clothes on the wall, I can’t fathom why. I can see that they didn’t want to take the dirty clothes home but what was the purpose in leaving them to dry? Were they hoping that when dry somebody would use them without realising? Or perhaps they just thought that such a wonderous thing as child sized denim would astound the locals and left them there for our ‘museum of the future’?

This brings me to rants of the week, the first is to the delightful grocery home delivery service. Part of my groceries last week was a bath mat set, you know the deal a bath mat and a toilet pedestal mat. When I unpacked I found just a bath mat, despite the packaging saying that it was ” two piece”. When I called the other side of the planet, hey why do it in England, they asked if I had received the item and I explained that I had received half of it. I will acknowledge that this was my mistake as the call centre apologised and said that they would refund half of the value. But I don’t have any need for half of a set I responded, indeed they were more than welcome to have the half back  but the problem was that technically I had received the item.

In the end my cell phone signal came to the rescue and dumped the call, when I called back,and regaled the new call centre person with my analogy regarding empty pots of jam having no value despite the pot technically being present, I was rewarded with a refund, in full no less.

The second rant is against UKIP, well actually all of the self-serving, leaching politicians and their street walking cronies. I have a postal vote, I exercised it on Saturday and the envelope which I carried, on that same day, to the post office was most obviously my vote. At this stage my selection is clearly complete so why on earth do you feel the need to assault me on the street? As a rational citizen of the country I have deliberated over the pool of hopeless, arrogant liars that I have to choose from and selected the one who makes my skin crawl the least. When you assault me in the street you change the leaderboard and make me want to remove my support from your particular cretin but the system does not allow me to.

If I open the envelope my vote spoils and my voice is not heard. I am under no illusion that my voice counts you understand but hell I have done my bit, I have selected my cretin so leave me alone. Take note of the comedy sized envelope labeled A or whatever it says and get the hell out of my way. Or perhaps I am misreading the whole scenario, I presumed that these people were simply ignoring the envelope but perhaps they were targeting me. Perhaps this was all some plan to spoil my vote? No, I think not, that would involve a level of intelligence way above that of a politician.

Approximately painful dream wars

I would like to start this post by assisting train operators with some linguistics. When a service is in a timetable the timings are fixed, in truth that is the purpose of the document. Announcing that the service will arrive at “approximately” does not diminish the delay and there is a danger that you will soften things too much. I arrive at the station in time for the departure not approximately on time but actually on time that is the nature of the game.

I have stumbled upon another potential venue option and am, once again, astounded by how much enthusiasm it sparks. This option is a large building on the Southerly edge of a busy town. The building sparks that interest of gradual change, seeking the right use for each part of a building that was designed for a different time. One thing that really fascinates me about older pubs is working within their fabric to adapt to modern demands. For me this can’t be an instant change, it is not best suited to corporations this should be a slow evolution and a partnership between building and business.

Whilst I am not yet ready to restart my search the mere hint of a venue finds me scouring the web. I have a history for this building, I know when it ceased trading, I have approached it from every angle thanks to streetview. I spent an evening sketching floor plans and considering trading areas last night, it’s just what I do. I am lucky that the trade still holds my attention so much even as I move slowly back to being able to re-enter it, I guess in life we all need something to aim for.

In other news I have an update from the war of attrition being waged by Ms Nature. A recent retreat was just a distraction, she has returned with a renewed vigour of late. My left knee is swollen today having collapsed a couple of times over the week. The walk to work has become a more choreographed activity as I noticed that the stiffness in the knee is translating into an ache in my hip. Clearly I have been letting my gait slip in difference to the knee pain and that has to stop.

Leftie has developed a new trick and I have already developed a countermeasure of sorts. Over the course of several hours the ever present ache in Leftie grows to become quite a distraction the same being true if I get up in the night. The solution to this appears to be to manipulate my left wrist with my right hand so as to ‘crack’ the wrist. This is only possible once the pain has built to a level, I can’t prevent it happening but I can stop it at a lower level.

Before anyone makes reference to arthritis let me remind you that if inherited arthritis wasn’t enough it comes free with the injuries. I think that there may actually be a hidden benefit to this with regards to the doctor’s battle with my blood pressure. When you crack your knuckles it’s the result of moving liquid through the joint so, if my wrist cracks, there must be fluid there. Any fluid not in my veins will result in less to pump and therefore lower BP, Ms Nature didn’t see that one coming did she!

Finally the shoulder injury has developed a habit of putting my arm to sleep. Obviously I accommodate the pain in my sleep by moving, apparently to just the point that the arm goes to sleep. Well this one is a royal two fingers at Ms Nature because I am right handed! Now that I know what is happening I take no notice whatsoever until I get up in the morning.

In summary, Ms Nature may be vicious but she hasn’t got the determination of my stubbornness.

Stubborn traditions and clever reporting

This weekend has been the classic English bank holiday. We started with a forecast of good weather, latterly tempered to a great Friday and Saturday then deteriorating. Great tactics by the weather forecasters that ensures the masses will try and travel on Friday, one of the worst days of the year. Friday, Saturday and Sunday have followed the same pattern in weather terms. Waking up to glorious sunshine and all the hallmarks of a beautiful day but fading rapidly as soon as the hungover tourists start circulating. Today (Monday) is the magical culmination, a stunning day that is like nature sticking two fingers up at tourism. Already I have heard suitcases being wheeled to the station, where they will join a sweaty bus due to track renewals, and later the road out of town will be full.

The final tradition of a bank-holiday is to indulge in a pint whilst watching children bickering in overheated cars while hungover parents scowl. I think that our politicians would benefit from a bank holiday spent at a UK seaside town, to give the some understanding. All of the advertisements and inducements in the world won’t draw more people to UK tourism, it is ingrained for generations. It can all be summed up by the 60 year old man walking down the prom in bare feet yesterday, in the face of coats and hats to defeat a chill wind he sported only speedos and wet hair, fresh from his swim. I can hear the conversation, as I did when I was child, that went “I came to the beach for a holiday and I will be going for my bloody swim”. It is this bloody minded spirit that sees families battling the wind to get to the beach and frozen children paddling in the sea. They know that on Monday the coast will be mocking them but that doesn’t mean they can’t enjoy their break.

In other news my stubborn streak has been out in force this weekend. I decided to do some tattooing on Saturday and it went reasonably well although I did ache very quickly. On Saturday evening my left wrist was in agony which made no sense, I am right handed. So the wrist that controlled the machine was ok but the one that had to hold the skin was not, why on earth would that be? I checked the relative movements but could not make sense of it.

The pain remained overnight and into Sunday morning when I was forced to consider options. Here the stubborn streak stepped in and suggested that I should do some more work. After all I had adjusted that packer hadn’t I? And it would be a shame not to use it. And so it is that I can report that two shorts sessions of ink has done nothing to ease the pain in lefty which is, equally stubbornly, claiming the title of ‘hardest worked’. On the plus side the greatest response to an SMS that asked what you are doing has to be “colouring in my knee”.

Teenage limbs and night time plots

It has often been said that I am stubborn, not only do I wholeheartedly agree with this but I take it as a compliment. It is interesting to observe that in the past when I have departed from my characteristic stubbornness in relationships it has not been a success so I will stick where I am thanks. Normally my stubbornness shows itself in useful ways, it allows me to stick with a path despite distractions and  to persevere with difficult tasks. I can even cite recent examples thanks to Andrew’s laptop and the 20 hour fight to rebuild it. People say things like “I wouldn’t have the patience” but it is not a matter of patience, I get as annoyed and frustrated as the next person. What keeps me going, especially with technical challenges, is a stubborn and steadfast belief that something can be achieved. There is no task that cannot be beaten you just need to apply yourself and sometimes apply yourself again!

I always considered that stubbornness was a trait, a conscious part of one’s character but lately I have reason to doubt this. One of the things that has changed since the accident is that I cannot sleep on my left shoulder, it is uncomfortable to start but after 20 minutes it really hurts. In fairness this is not a great loss and it is a situation that is readily adapted to, or so I thought. The shoulder has started developing a real slow start to the day which can be entertaining when you think that my left knee already has its own lay in. If I forget the knee and topple then I need to make sure that the right arm takes the load because the left shoulder wakes up with the same grace as a hung-over teenager! I had considered this new-found reluctance to start the day with the rest of my body yet another example of Ms Nature’s attempt to impart union rules on my limbs and shrugged it off, pardon the pun, but I now realise that there is something else afoot.

On a couple of occasions recently I have awoken for the call of nature and realised that I am on my left shoulder. It is a quick and very painful realisation, but this is not how I usually wake up so what is happening? It would appear that after my conscious mind goes to sleep the sub-conscious goes into full stubborn mode and I sleep on the shoulder that I know I cant sleep on. The brilliance of this is that by turning me away from this side by the time that I wake up I am none the wiser and the stubborn battle can continue without my interference. I do believe that I have taken stubbornness to a new level by arguing with myself!

In other news I have to share a question raised on the excellent ‘On the Wight’ website following the storms that battered my beloved, and sadly distant, isle last night. The simple question “does anybody know if the newspapers made it to the island today” brought about a flurry of enquiries and I realised that the entire island could have been without a TV guide! All was ok you will be pleased to know but it is this uniqueness of island life that I love.

Philosophical bottle tops, damn them

I’m not a big philosopher, well actually I’m not a big thinker but hey sometimes thought is overrated! Tomorrow is day one of another three week window of ‘opportunity’. Hopefully during this period I will get the opportunity to confront the legal system and understand the timeline of my progression back to life as I knew it. It is a strange, and somewhat counterintuitive, scenario where you desperately hope for the chance to do something that you equally desperately don’t want to do, funny old world eh?

I read an interesting piece whilst browsing the superb and sublime musings of Lesley Carter click here , Lesley doesn’t tend to share links anymore than I do but she had shared this click here and it struck a chord. That’s two worthwhile links shared, must be me done for a year at least. The list of thirty things is really valuable, its nothing you don’t know but hey sometimes a memory jog is good right? It doesn’t take long to read and I guarantee that you will gain something from the effort. I would like to add a twist of my own, well I would wouldn’t I? Picture yourself and your friends as you read it, I was astounded how many of the items screamed out to me for friends and that is, in part why I am sharing.

I believe that we all tread our own path, blame is a negative emotion that serves nobody. The person blaming wastes their time and the person blamed is, for the most part, unaware. Who cares? Each moment of time that you live is a historical thing, if its happened then by definition it is in the past. Where do you want to spend your energy? Studying the past or grasping the future, no contest right? Just like blame excuses are pointless, if you’re crap at something or couldn’t be bothered I don’t care why excuses only serve the author. If I make a mistake, and I’ve made many, then they are mistakes or bad decisions shit happens, tomorrow is another day. My life is the result of my decisions, my failures are the result of my decisions but my successes are all the sweeter for being the results of my decisions.

I am not burdened with a family network, it’s just not something that I do. I am in fact a self proclaimed orphan, I don’t have am extended family to support me nor do I have one to criticise me. Every step that I take, I take in my shoes, by my own volition, I may not be able to control how many steps I take but I do choose the direction. I would like to add one point that seems to be missed by so many people today, celebrate small achievements. Life is not a television show, it’s not a movie, oddly it’s real life. Things don’t happen overnight but every step that you take to your goals is a victory, a success, an achievement. If you measure your success by every move towards your goal then you will keep the faith.

In everything there is a positive. My accident brought me a lot closer to some real friends and reminded me of others, love you guys. Rather than see the whole experience as a horrible grinding delay to life’s plans I see every day as a step closer to the plan. I remain fully committed to my pub, there is not a doubt in my mind that it will happen, it is as part of me as the metal that holds my hands on! So times are tough, look each day square in the eye and tackle it head on, somewhere out there is your future the rest is just trivia.

On a mechanical note some of you may remember the humour of leaving hospital, some 15 months ago now, and finding beer with twist off caps in the fridge. Well that is the gift that keeps on giving to this stubborn old man I can tell you. My hands are close to lacerated from trying to open the same brew this weekend but I will not give in! If I could video the experience I would because this is mechanics for beginners. I have very poor grip because of my rearrangement of my hands, which means we are down to levers and the bottle is the larger. So bottle turns cap in hand and cap chews skin because hand can’t resist the turning moment. So I attempted a different grip, kind of overhand, bad idea the sound was astonishing as elbows, shoulders, wrists and even hands cracked and popped.

The bottle survived this acoustic onslaught and stubbornly beat me into using a tea towel, even then it took a few minutes of cursing and maneuvering. That’s the thing with small gains I will not use a bottle opener, as I did 15 months ago, I will fight and beat every bottle because I can. So maybe I can’t open a bottle with a deft flick of the wrist but I’m one step up on the disabled idiot that took ten minutes to fight the cap off with a bottle opener, little victories.

Shhh dont tell them

Several recent discussions lead me to this post. As many of you know lefty is not playing the game at the moment. Strangely, given the extent of the injuries, this is probably the worst pain that it has given me. For those interested in the mechanics of pain it is a sharp pain not an ache, I guess this is indicative of mechanical conflict.

The pain wasn’t brought on by any sudden event, no shock or overload. This doesn’t necessarily fit with the type of pain but hey maybe I missed something. I can still lift weights and perform press-ups with no problems. It is random, silly movements that trigger the pain. The pain is debilitating, its a real stab and causes me to instantly change position. It has taken a fair volume of alcohol to allow me to sleep over the pain this weekend.

So now we have established why I keep wincing and pulling funny faces we can move on to the discussion. Everyone’s first comment involves me over doing it. Let’s be clear I am doing nothing different, nothing more aggressively. There is no reason for my wrist mechanics to change. I am expecting the predicted rise in pain to be progressive not sudden. In short this is not my fault.

Having established that I am not to blame I turn to the next question. Should I inform the doctor/physio/ consultant? Well I’m sorry but the answer is an emphatic no. I don’t understand why people think this is so odd. The doctors have made it clear that they want to give up at pain so why tell them? I am no fan of giving up, that’s not how I got here after all.

For those that doubt my way think on. I would like to point out the astounding recovery and the amazed medical teams. I achieved this by ignoring medical advice and not telling them about pain. I suggest that my way is the right way, watch out Ms Nature there’s only my way.

Tourism, people and that bloody woman

This morning’s post is, in part, a test post. Something appears to have gone wrong with Lefty and the pain is quite unpleasant. I thought it a good idea to get some typing in today to see how it affects things. It has been a glorious weekend here on the coast and that brings with it a tourist invasion. I have said before that tourism is good, tourism is what maintains our local economy. But tourists are a unique bunch and even in the UK they can make you feel quite second class. I was going through some paperwork with Andrew yesterday when the first groups started queueing outside of his pub. Already we see a difference, in Walton we don’t queue for pubs opening. I guess this is the English equivalent of the German towel on the sun bed, first served gets first choice of outside table.

When I visited the pub later it was karaoke time, not a favourite of mine but still. Standing there watching the groups of tourists I could almost hear a safari guide talking to them. These guys really enjoy themselves and get very involved but it’s almost as if they think ‘local’ is a show put on for them. They love to dance with some of the local characters, to sing and to listen to some of the more awful, but regular, singers. I know that later they will laughing that karaoke is still entertainment around here, that beer is so cheap and isn’t Dave funny?. The thing that they don’t realise is that the reason all this community character is so much fun is simply because they have lost it at home.  But in case any tourists read this I can confirm that we are like this all year round, it’s not made up for you.

I have good news to report on the healing front, obviously not from Lefty. The wound on my right arm has ben uncovered for a whole day. I managed to stop the bleeding and now it gets a chance to dry out, judging by the state of my duvet this morning this may take a while.  I would like, once again, to advise Ms Nature that she will not win, if nothing else I am stubborn. I will continue to exercise Lefty since I am of the opinion that this is a transition stage rather than a setback. Ms Nature has many things on her plate whereas I only have to concentrate on one body. In further support of my inevitable victory I am now the proud owner of a full set of fingernails. It might not sound much but I have bitten my nails for nearly 40 years so it is quite an achievement.

I am now learning the complications of having nails, they get in the way when typing on the BlackBerry for example. Luckily I have Helen on hand to explain how it is that we rid ourselves of ‘hang nails’ apparently chewing them off isn’t the only solution.

Honourable mention to Andy who called me with a bike issue on Friday. I explained what he needed to do and heard no more, until this morning. Apparently the availability of beer in pubs rather slowed his activity level so the bike is now todays project. If stroking your beard and drinking beer got the job done then Andy would be over achieving on a regular basis.

My new normal

The medical experts have always told me that if I push too hard I will end up with unusable wrists. The theory is that when you get too much movement the pain becomes unbearable and they have to fuse the bones. I am disagreeing, as I often do, with accepted medical practice. I think that they misunderstand pain and, obviously, I think I know better.

I am pushing my exercise hard, I am forcing the wrists to accept higher and higher loads. Normal movements have an associated level of pain, but its tolerable. In fact here my tattoos come in handy, as any tattooed person will tell you its not pain it’s discomfort. I also get random stabbing pains, I reach out or turn or do nothing and a shooting pain is my reward. I don’t consider this to be debilitating, more of an inconvenience. Yes it hurts, yes it disrupts what I am doing but its only fleeting. So my argument remains that only by pushing myself will I maximise recovery. I didn’t used to say ouch as much as I do now, anyone that bugged my flat or hotel room would think I was being attacked. But ouch is only a word, and pain is only a passing moment. In fact this is not bad or troublesome, this is simply my new normal.

I have no doubt that I am building a whole heap of trouble for my old age. But I am covered in tattoos and forever being asked ‘won’t they look rubbish when your really old?’ The answer, of course, is that they will only look as bad as the canvas. One shouldn’t live with an eye on the affects in old age, one should live to create memories that will fill the thigh light years.

Stubbornness has got me this far, further than anyone dreamt was possible, how far will it take me? Stick with me and we will find out if the world of medicine is cleverer than I am, or if I might just prove them wrong. After all I’m not old yet……