Category Archives: Uncategorized

Show solidarity with the Greek people and a fuck you to the capitalists.

While normal Greek people were going to work and raising their families, the minions of global economics were greedily playing with numbers. When a system exists to let individuals satisfy their pathological need to collect wealth, at the expense of common humanity, collapse is inevitable (or at least it seems that way looking back).image
We’re as much in the hands of this economic system as the Greek people, or the Spanish, or the Portuguese. Only luck decided we’d live in a country with a relatively strong economy (although there are sections of our population that have suffered under austerity measures, the situation in Greece is far worse and far more widespread)
It’s the people of Greece that need bailing out. And this crowdfunding attempt is already up and running. They idea of us all chipping in and doing something that the politicians and the bankers are too greedy to imagine, is worth €25 I think. I’m sure for some of you it would be easy to donate more.
It would be a miracal if the unconcievable amount of money was reached, but the worse that can happen is that your money is refunded and the people of Greece (and everywhere else) get to see that rest of us get how unfair the system.
Just click the link and paypal some euros to this idea. You don’t even have to more more than your thumb!


If we all wore wrist bands (mildly controversial)


There’s been a lot made about the comment by Chamali Fernando, the parliamentary candidate for Cambridge made; regarding mental health patients to wear wrist bands. Now I can understand the outrage that this has caused for some people. The fact that such an idea would cause some people more issues from such an idea, having to wear a “mark” that shows you have a health condition could cause a whole host of problems.

But it also got me thinking about this from a different point of view, now at the moment mental health is one of those things which often gets neglected when it comes to public spending. It is one of the most underfunded conditions that the NHS treats, and that can be down to a whole host of factors. Some being the lack of visibility of the conditions, others down to the social stigma attached to them. The…

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Dating with children – The end

Even the knock at the door sounded familiar. Although I don’t remember how long its been since he knocked at my door. I only remember the sound of him walking in, opening the door without reservation because he belonged in this home.

His face was beautifully familiar. I’m not sure if he noticed the welcome in my smile. It’s been about four months since I saw him. I was counting the time on my fingers only today, as I walked to collect the girls from school. I want to say it’s a coincidence that I was thinking of him on the day he turned up at my door. But I think about him everyday, more or less. So much so, I don’t really notice anymore. He’s like a ghost now, settled in my everyday thoughts.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him as he went to leave, her school cardigan bunched up around her shoulders. She always clung to him like that. At the beginning, I worried it would frighten him away; too much love from such a small and intense little girl. Later, I knew it made him feel wanted and happy. Today, I was glad for the distraction, prying her fingers from around his calf as he walked backwards out of the door. Probably for the last time.

The last few days have been painfully punctuated by a deep craving for
his arms around me; his warm body, solid, against mine. I imagine dissolving into his arms, my limbs soft with a relief that only he can provide. I remembered this as he cycled away into the frosted February evening. A bag on his back stuffed full of the little pieces of him that, until today, were left littered around my home.

All that’s left to do now is close the door behind him, against the cold air blowing into my house.

The Stranger

His beard smells faintly of wine and cigarette smoke.
His lips lost beneath it.
A fervid coil tightens deep inside her,
The woman thinks it’s
The way his arms crush her body against his.

She tells him to pull her hair,
Savouring the pain as his fingers tighten.
She tells him to look at her
the coil wound so tense her whole body aches with it.
She fixates on his gaze as she loudly unravels from the inside out.

As soon as her breathing slows
she chases it once more.
Hysterical seduction engulfs her loneliness,
His unfamiliarity promised annihilation
and she is desperate for it.

The stranger asks her to call out his name.
But she falters.

There’s no one else here.
Just the woman in the strangers eyes,
Nemesis mocks as she tries to drown in her own reflection.

A Birth Story

As a midwife, working on delivery suite, this feels like a story I see everyday. It’s articulated so honestly and so brutally; I feel like I’ll take this story with me into the operating theatre next time I fail to help my woman get the birth she wants.

I’m reblogging because it a story that deserves to be shared but also so that I can easily come back to it and remind myself how day to day this is for me and how life altering it is for the women I care for.


Meaghan O’Connell | Longreads | Nov. 6, 2014 | 57 minutes (14,248 words)

Download .mobi (Kindle)Download .epub (iBooks)

It was Monday, June 2nd, and I was wide awake at 6 a.m. Maybe to some of you this hour doesn’t sound remarkable, but for me it was. It was the first day in a lifetime of six in the mornings, and I made the three-hour leap all in one go.

By this point, it was 10 days past my due date, and I had a very specific and recurring fantasy of being moved around town in a hammock flown by a helicopter. I wanted to be airlifted between boroughs.

When I told my fiancé, Dustin, this wish, he was quiet for a second. He had learned to reply to me with caution, but I imagine in this case he just couldn’t help himself.

“Like a whale?” he asked.

I laughed…

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Breaking Up Is Hard To Do…

A beautiful friend who has found herself facing life as a divorcee and mum of two. It’s a common story, therefore utterly relatable to a lot of thirty-somethings. It can be a difficult path at times, but a worthwhile one in the end.

I hope this yank keeps us updated


So the husband and I have separated.  Some have said they saw it coming, others are still in disbelief and have expressed hope in a reconciliation.  I’m sorry to everyone, especially our two most incredible children.

thisisusmexico Back In the Day… 2001

Tonight I came across “I Don’t Want to Change You” by Damien Rice and it got me thinking of all the ways I changed, both good and otherwise, during my nearly 12 year marriage to my ex.  Upon further reflection, I can identify a couple of occasions during the early days of our relationship when my words and actions were openly compared to others, namely his ‘really nice’ ex-girlfriend.  As a American ex-pat with a desperate desire to fit in and make friends, I recognize these instances as when I began to change, when I began to cease being myself, when I began to slowly rot on the inside.

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The Cochrane Review – Planned Home Birth vs Planned Hospital Birth

While slightly disappointed that the evidence base fell short of generating any recommendations for practice. The following passage is welcomed none-the-less:

“It seems increasingly clear that impatience and easy access to many medical procedures at hospital may lead to increased levels of intervention which in turn may lead to new interventions and finally to unnecessary complications. In a planned home birth assisted by an experienced midwife with collaborative medical back up in case transfer should be necessary these drawbacks are avoided while the benefit of access to medical intervention when needed is maintained. Increasingly better observational studies suggest that planned hospital birth is not any safer than planned home birth assisted by an experienced midwife with collaborative medical back up, but may lead to more interventions and more complications.”