Rant, rave and get it off my chest (id est, post randomly)

The ‘oops’ messages are driving me a little crazy.

:-(

disillusioned and pissed off with the Australian Federal Government these days. Whilst governments in other countries seem to be showing signs of concern about the health and well-being of their citizens, the Aussie government (seemingly regardless of the party in power) couldn’t care less. There are a couple of issues in particular, which currently cause me concern.

_{(I was going to list these separately under two other goals, but decided they fit quite well within a general rant.)}

The first is an overall concern, regarding the Government’s ignorance (or general unwillingness to give a damn) about reducing exposure to toxic chemicals. Bisphenol A (BPA) is a classic example. Several countries have banned its use in many products, due to concerns over it being an endocrine disruptor. BPA is used in many plastic products (including food/beverage containers) and in the coating lining many metal food cans. Despite increasing evidence of BPA’s negative impact on health, the chemical industry continues to claim BPA is safe to use. There’s an article here which makes for interesting reading.

It seems that even the US Government (in small steps) is starting to take action over BPA. But the Aussie Government? Well, they’ve done fuck all – and don’t seem to be showing any signs of interest whatsoever.

My second bugbear is more personal, regarding the current draft legislation regarding maternity services. Whilst it offers some real positives – particularly in the form of Medicare prescribing rights for Midwives – there are some awful negatives being proposed. As part of this legislation, it will be a requirement that Midwives be registered and take out professional indemnity insurance.

Now, I can see the sense in registration and even (whilst sad that its increasingly deemed necessary in health) for the insurance. The only problem is that there is currently no insurance provider within Australia offering coverage to private midwives operating independently of the hospital system… so they will no longer be able to practise.

Not a problem if you’re planning to birth your child within the hospital system… in this country, a system with intervention rates well above WHO recommendations. But, if you have a ‘normal’ pregnancy and you’re hoping to give birth at home with a qualified midwife present, as I hope to one day – bad luck. There are currently about three hospital-linked home-birth programmes in Australia – great if you live in (particular regions within) the cities of Adelaide, Perth or Darwin. Nothing on offer for the rest of the country.

Effectively, home-births with the support of a qualified, skilled Midwife will become illegal in most of Australia. There will be no middle ground between hospital and free-birthing. When you consider that countries such as Canada and the UK (to mention just a couple) offer home-birth programmes as part of the public maternity system, it seems that once again (read: as per usual) the Australian Government is way behind the times.

In writing this, I’ve realised the saddest part is that the Government is supposed to act on behalf of its people. Perhaps the lack of interest is simply a reflection of Australian society as a whole. Whilst we’re often proud of our laid-back attitude to life, our unwillingness to get off our collective arse and take action (rather than simply bitching) may end up bringing about our own undoing. Perhaps, instead of pointing my finger and whining about the situation, I need to get off my own butt and take action.

wtf is going on with my list of goals?

They seem to be spontaneously rearranging themselves into a different order. I’ve never ordered my goals, but I am was kinda attached to the natural order determined by date of addition.

1. Surely it’s not asking too much of the people in the flat upstairs – as they don’t seem capable of comprehending that 1am is not a suitable time for a guitar-and-didgeridoo-accompanied singing session – that they learn to carry a decent tune. Is it?

2. The fly (or whatever it is) buzzing around inside the office light fixtures is driving me slightly crazy.

3. I’m hungry.

Well, along with the move came a reduction in internet access… so I’m back to random attempts at catching up on my subs. (Cue violins.) I do have some access at work, where I am now. It’s after 8pm, mind you… luckily I’m living on the hospital grounds. There’s also an internet cafe on the local high street, but I don’t fancy making that walk back at night, unless unavoidable.

Working part-time at the moment, and I seem to be spending my free days sorting through paperwork or reading up on work-related stuff. I need to get out and do something fun whilst I have the chance.

Having said that, I did go to London on Friday (via the Oxford Express – so easy) to see Lior play at the Borderline. Yay! The place was packed with Australians (surprise, surprise) and he put on a fantastic show. I bought his latest CD, and did the groupie thing afterwards… staying to have a chat, get my CD signed, and get a photo.

I stayed with my Cambridge buddy C, who also came to the show, then on Saturday we spent some time in Soho – shopping for her divorce ring – before checking out the British Museum. One down, all the rest to go. After wearing the same pair of heels for the good part of two days straight, my feet were killing me. My calves are still not talking to me, except for having transferred their pain through my back to my neck, which I can only interpret as their way of saying, “WTF did you think you were doing?” [Note to self: must stretch.]

Right… need to make plans to do something interesting for this coming Saturday through Wednesday.

Simply because it made me giggle.

Men who look like Zach Braff.

Heard this over the PA, on a Saturday evening a few weeks ago:

“To all customers. Please do not lean out over the edge of the platform. If you get hit by a train, it is going to hurt.”

No kidding.

The hour is late, and my window cracked open just enough to let in the slow, gentle clonking of the neighbours’ wooden wind chimes.

I’ve just come back from spending a long weekend away, in a very lovely place. Beautiful buildings and countryside, delicious food and wonderful wines… the only thing that took the shine off the experience somewhat, was the passive-aggressive behaviour displayed by two members of the group.

Sheesh.

Moods that changed from hot to ice-cold within minutes… snarky, bitchy comments… so juvenile (not to mention, unstable) that it felt as though we were travelling with a couple of hormonal, manipulative teenagers.

_{(My instinctive reaction in these sorts of situations is to start wondering what it is I’ve done to cause such upset… taking the blame squarely on my own shoulders. I’m discovering more often than not, when I talk to other people, that they’ve suffered the same treatment… and noticed the same odd behaviours. So, I’m working on trying to take a step back and assess the situation, rather than immediately pointing the finger at myself. If it’s my fault, I’ll accept that and make amends… but I’m over being the fall-guy.)}

The rest of us would have been more than happy to have been left out of the games. Thank goodness it was only for a weekend. Luckily, it also enlightened me as to the folly of organising Matty and myself a trip away with these people. Nothing was set in concrete, so it’s easy enough to back out at this point. No way would I want to spend my precious Matty-time dealing with that sort of stress.

However, despite the drama-queen antics, the trip itself was worthwhile. We had some lovely sunshine from time to time, and I got to catch up with some good friends. On balance it was great, and I’m pleased I went along.

Bugger it… I noticed that Matty had jumped online, made a quick mental calculation, and decided that now would be a good time to phone.

Unfortunately, my arithmetic skills are not what they once were… it’s actually only about 7:30am, not 8:30am. On Saturday morning. Which means that everyone is probably still asleep. (Or at least, they were.)

At least it’s not quite so bad as my effort last year, when I mistakenly phoned my parents at 3:30am their time. Gotta love my mum though… she was just happy to hear from me, so she was able to ignore the rudeness of the hour.