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Showing posts with label recycling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label recycling. Show all posts

Thursday, July 26, 2018

No House Inspection

I'm somewhat annoyed. I got a note through the door this morning (Wednesday), from our landlord, to say he won't be visiting and can I ring him tonight to reschedule? Having spent the last few days cleaning the place, it's a bit of a nuisance, to say the least. It does mean that I can be with Carol this morning when the doctors do their ward round, because I wouldn't have been there if the house inspection had gone ahead for 11 o'clock this morning. Hopefully Carol will be discharged sometime today, so at least she will see a spotless house, or as near as possible. Never mind, at least it will be ready for a landlord visit next week. I don't know when the note was put through the letterbox. I have been awake since at least 5 a.m., been out with Alfie for a walk, but I never heard the letterbox rattle, as you would expect if something was pushed through.

I was washing up at the kitchen sink when I saw a dustcart drive past. I had put three bags of rubbish out, two black bags and a pink one with recycled stuff in it. Why didn't they stop to pick up our bags? It's 8.35 as I write this, and those bags are still were I left them earlier this morning. Why don't the dustmen take them instead of driving past? I know they take the recycled bags separately, but, frankly it doesn't make sense to just drive past. I bet these bags will still be here when I get back home later this afternoon. It really is an odd way to collect rubbish. You are supposed to put it out well before 7a.m. on a Wednesday, but quite often it's still there at 2 p.m.  I heard a report on BBC television news the other day, which said that some recycled material isn't recycled and goes to landfill. Not very good to hear that, when I go to so much trouble to put stuff in the correct pink bag. Incidentally, why are Milton Keynes Council replacing the pink bags with grey bags? Seems a bit pointless to me. What's wrong with pink? As it is, they are very flimsy and easily torn and quite difficult to open.

Later. The continuing saga of the carpark barrier. I don't know whether to laugh or cry over this. I know I've given time and energy to the car parking arrangements at Milton Keynes University Hospital in quite a few of these blog posts. Why on earth they don't just remove the stupid things, because they seem to cause much stress and angst. Either you can't get in, because the barrier won't raise, or the tickets don't come out of the machine when you enter, or the barrier won't raise to let you out. It's more than a little bit annoying. This morning the barrier was raised, so you couldn't take a ticket when you pressed the button. Which meant, when I came to leave this afternoon, I had no ticket, so when I drove out, with the barrier down, I had to press the 'help' button to get a security person to let me out. It can be tricky to do this, because you have to stop the car near enough to the machine so you can stretch out your arm to press the button. Then a disembodied voice asked 'which car park?' to which I had to think, and then said 'near Cardiology,' at which the barrier was raised. I think they must be loosing money from this pandemonium. The barriers seem to spend more time inoperative and operative and people wouldn't be paying to park. Why not just remove all these machines and return to free parking?

On the ward things haven't changed much. No new patients. I arrive in plenty of time for the doctors' ward rounds. It amuses us that when they arrive, around half a dozen of them, with one pushing the computer trolley thing which has all the patients notes in it, they bundle into the 12 X 12 space each patient and their bed contains and draw the curtains around them. How many doctors can you fit in the space? It can be quite intimidating if you are the patient, as I have been myself, with so many people crowding in, sometimes with students, some at the back of the group, someone making notes. What are they all for? The, should I say 'lead doctor', who does all the talking has this morning come in and SITS ON THE BED! Outrageous! I was told you must NEVER, as a visitor, SIT ON THE BED! When I was on one ward a couple of years ago, there was a woman, a volunteer, who was so rude to Carol, she wouldn't let Carol read my notes, which were on a clipboard in a holder at the foot of the bed (now all notes are on the new computerised system eCare or something.) This harridan came in to work in Ward 1 when Carol was first admitted nearly five weeks ago. I think she took her authority too far and was just plain unpleasant. Anyway, this female doctor tells Carol this morning that they have found an antibiotic which will work to eradicate the infection in her septum. She can be given this new antibiotic via a P.I.C.C. line, which has to be inserted (as the old one was, which was removed a week or so ago.) Carol would need to come to the hospital on a daily basis to have the antibiotics administered through the P.I.C.C. line, for two weeks, then the medication can be taken in tablet-form for a further six weeks. We later learn that a community nurse (I think that's the title.) would visit Carol at home and administer the antibiotics, which would cut the risk of further infection, which might happen if she was to visit the hospital. Later on, another doctor appears and says that the lady who fits the P.I.C.C. line is currently on holiday and there is no-one else able to do the job. Which seems amazing to me. Why on earth doesn't the hospital have someone who can cover for this lady whilst she is on holiday? So, it would seem that Carol is likely to be in hospital for another few days, intact, most likely until Monday when I image the P.I.C.C. line-lady returns from holiday.

This evening I have been attempting to contact our landlord via telephone. Each time I attempt this operation, I just get a recorded message and to 'leave a message.' I try on three separate occasions. I don't want to record a message. I just want to speak to the man. I don't want either him or his wife ringing once I've gone to bed or to ring when I'm out. I want to speak to a live person. So much easier and less annoying.

Some time later I get a telephone call. At first I think it might be the landlord. But it's not. It's a woman doing a survey. I agree to do it. It's on political things and turns out to be on my views on Brexit and the so-called 'Chequers Agreement' on a 'soft' Brexit deal. What are my thoughts? Well, I'm not going to tell you on here. I did ask, at the end of the interview, what the information would be used for, but she wouldn't say. Probably for a newspaper of one of the television channels, BBC News, ITN or Channel four or even Sky News.

Monday, March 19, 2012

Why Aren't Things So Simple?- Adventures With A Washing Machine

Nothing goes according to plan, and nothing on earth is ever as simple as one might expect, and certainly not in the case of the new washing machine. I explained in the last blog that our landlord arrived yesterday with the new machine. He came with two young lads, presumably with the intention of using them to lift in the new washing machine and then take out the old one. Which they did. Nobody seemed to have the first idea how to actually disconnect the old machine from the water supply. As you may or may not know there is generally always a pipe which you connect to the water supply so that the machine will fill automatically from the house mains and another tube which takes the water OUT of the machine during it's operation. The landlord had absolutely no idea where the stop-cock was in the house so as to turn off the supply. Carol had to go next door and ask a neighbour, as all the houses along this road are identical. It turned out to be behind a panel in the downstairs toilet. Which was a surprise as we didn't know this. I really would have expected our landlord, of all people, to have known this sort of detail.

It was only the start of our problems. Unfortunately.

The young man who set up the washing machine didn't really have the first idea what he was doing. We left them to get on with it. After all, it was the landlord's machine and we were quite happy to watch them work. But the young man had absolutely no concept of which tube went where. Anyway, it was eventually done and they left, taking the old machine outside for the Council to collect (which reminds me that I must contact them on Monday morning so that the refuse collection department can take the  old machine away. It is now defunct so it's better for it to go for recycling.)

So, with the washing machine plumbed in and operating (or so I thought) I put in a load of washing.

Then the problems really began.

The cycle seemed to take a very long time to complete. Surely a wash cycle in an automatic washing machine should take no more than an hour? Or so I would imagine. It was still going around 2 hours later. It then went into the final spin, and I was upstairs when it began, and thought to myself, 'good, at least we'll have some clean clothes at long last.' I came downstairs in the middle of the spin and the machine had moved out at a 45-degree angle from the work surface. Not what you expect to happen. I thought at first that Carol had pulled out the machine, but it seemed unlikely. The machine then went into full spin mode and it was getting faster and faster. It was really getting dangerous.

We had to stop the thing somehow or other and so we pressed the 'off'' button which got the spin cycle to slow down and eventually stop. We then discovered that the tube that brought the water into the machine from the mains supply was leaking badly, so we had to attempt to shut off the water. But no amount of effort would shut it off completely and there was a really bad drip coming from the connection, which meant we had to put the washing-up bowl under the connection to collect the water. We had to empty this several times as it filled up really fast. Also, we attempted to turn off the water supply at the stop-cock, but this would not shut off completely. Of course, all this meant that we couldn't do any washing up, or have the central heating on, flush the toilets, have shaves and so it went on. All this because that incompetent person thought they knew how to fit the washing-machine.

As a further result of all this, the machine has torn the floor-covering when in it's fastest spin-mode.

We learned, having attempted to stop the drips, that when they came to plumb in the machine they didn't remove the restraining bolts in the back of the machine, which are there to prevent the drum from revolving and causing damage during transit and hadn't set up the feet so that the machine was level. It's a wonder we didn't have serious damage to the machine as a result of all this, even a fire or the machine exploding.

Anyway, we have been without running water since Saturday late afternoon, the kitchen is in a mess because we can't use any water and I've been told by the rental agency that they must contact the landlord before they can rectify all these problems. So it's likely to be a couple more days before a competent plumber is called out to do the work required.