Clock attendant Arthur Scuttlebottom, saw his role as one of the most important at the bin.  Each morning he would take up position by the clock machine, housed inside the small stone built lodge at the gate.  It was his job to document time of arrival and departure, always greeting early birds with a smile and late comers with a scowl.  Arthur secretly loved Nurse Undeniable and on the rare occasion she was late, big eyes and a broad smile convinced him she felt the same, and he would lovingly push back the hand of time.  This morning, Arthur remembered his last failed attempt at wooing her.  Dressed as a colourful itinerant, he placed himself, his dog and his guitar, outside the local haberdashery and sang "There's a hole in my bucket dear Liza dear Liza, there's a hole in my bucket dear Liza, a hole!"  Nurse Undeniable emerged with her bag of satin ribbons and placed a farthing in his hat "to fix the hole,' she said.  Not exactly the response he was looking for!

Knowing she assisted residents with farm duties twice weekly, he hatched a new plan to capture her ever elusive heart.  Whilst pulling the golden cobs, how could she fail to observe the demise of the fallen scarecrow?

You would be foolish to believe that a change of ward may be good for me.  We are talking about an organisation whose heirarchy thrive on managerial behaviours meant to create the fear of God in employees.  And my reputation of course, would've preceded any move I might make.  So I remain.  I didn't change wards, deciding instead that moving sideways would create even more unhappiness.  Another colleague did move and I hear that she is being made to work the 13hr shifts that I've previously spoken of.  I couldn't have done that.  I give enough of my life to the place.

So we moved.  Lock, stock & barrel moved over to the place that holds some unpleasant memories.  I'm coping with that much better than I thought I would.  But oh the mess it has made of what was once a smooth running rehabilitation ward and what a mess it has made of the service.  Are we this division or that division?  One manager says one thing, another says another.  Daily our ears are bombarded with managerial speak, visions, strategic plans, organisational blah de blah de blah!  Who the f*ck cares?  Nurses couldn't give a damn about all of that, nurses just want the freedom to do what they do best with the right skill mix, the right number of staff and shift patterns that allow them to have a life.  Long gone are the days when nursing came first and being a person and family member second.

Managerial snooping has also become popular.  A recent email forwarded to me by my ward manager and copied to another individual had a footnote asking that particular individual to let him know should there be any problems with what I was being asked to do.  How the bloody hell dare he?  I speedily attacked the keyboard at 70wpm and pointed out that since this had been in the pipeline for months he should be asking me whether there was any problems and promptly hit the send button.  In addition, the divisional strategic newsletter carried the Facebook logo and a comment kindly reminding staff about the importance of confidentiality.  Now let's face it, anyone with an ounce of intelligence will realise that hidden within the sewers of the bin, are insipid little people scouring Facebook for evidence of staff activity.  Luckily I'm not on Facebook, unluckily I'm sure Facebook has seen a sudden fall in its numbers as staff erase their details.

I guess the time is coming that I should ask all who may know my name to avoid using it at all costs.  I've never identified the bin, its residents, its whereabouts or its staff but there may be some who would look deeply into what is written here and recognise it.  So yes, this undeniable nurse asks that in future you never comment with my real name, Nurse Undeniable will suffice and will ultimately save me from any baying wolves.

Nurse Undeniable had an interest in all things occult.  This stemmed from a past patient who had believed that she was possessed by the devil who would only speak to female nurses.  Nurse Undeniable often found herself in the position of listening to deluded and graphic descriptions of hell but when this patient fell to her knees whilst the Virgin Mary was manifestating herself agains the wardrobe, Nurse Undeniable wondered whether there was more to insanity than she had first believed.

Since then, she had visited spiritual circles and read every paranormal book she could lay her hands on.  But this book was different, its introduction capturing her attention immediately.  Picking up her last peanut from a kidney dish, she read with excitement....

"Do you know somebody who always beats you at the sluice cleaning contest or who likes to swat you on the head and call you "Old aardvark?"  Then you need the amazing Voodoo Kit.  With this you'll spend many happy hours sticking needles into a little doll and pretending it's your playmate.  It can be given any name and dressed in all manner of things.  Your Yoodoo Voodoo Doll, the art of inflicting pain, sickness, death and bad luck.  Read on...."

Nurse Undeniable couldn't believe her luck.  At the top of her mental list of names Big Ears Dobson, the Liverpudlian personality disorder with an over sized ego.  She lay down her book and whispered.  "Come to mamma my little Liver puppet.

I'm sad that I'm leaving a group of people that have made my work life bearable at the bin.  They are a good crowd with an unmatcheable sense of humour.  If it hadn't been for them, I'm not so sure I could've dealt with what amounted to bullying at the hands of the poison dwarf.  Yes, I'm definitely being moved to a learning disability ward.  There are a few things to iron out though.  Apparently they work 13hr days on that ward, no way will I do that.  So unless the ward manager will accomodate my current shift pattern, I may still not be going.  It's a ward that has had a lot of difficulties with staff, why doesn't that surprise me.  It's rarely patients that cause the real problem.  I've been told they need someone strong, a leader.  One way of buttering me up I suppose.

Oddly, I'm looking forward to it too but I'm under no illusions that we minions are ten a penny these days.  One of my current patients, who happens to have a mild learning disability cried buckets when I told him.  I've worked closely with him for over 4 years.  Even with boundaries in place, the relationships we build with some of these individuals is all they've ever known.  We become their family.  The wrench is just as hard for me, like I'm letting them down.  Another said "Oh no, so you are not going to see me through?"  It's touching and sad as it is for the individual, their reaction to my departure makes things worthwhile.  It reassures me that I continue to be a good nurse.

So I'm packing up my things and tying all the loose ends and 2 weeks today I'll be gone.

Algernon Dikwacker the hospital security guard was a proud and conscientious employee.  Meticulously carrying out his role, he scrutinised everyone with his mean green eyes.  Every individual was a possible crook and when things went missing, his investigations left no stone unturned.  His reputation as a philanderer was not without just cause, mainly because body searches varied in length of time, being dependant upon whether his suspect was male or female, and many couldn’t understand why some nurses emerged from his sweaty hands hissing and spitting, whilst others merely giggled and adjusted their clothes.  So it came as no surprise to Nurse Undeniable that on reporting the sudden disappearance of the *Bristol Maid, Algernon was straining at the leash to solve the mystery.  She was a little bemused however, to see him stock his basket with bread and wine before lighting a cigarette, jumping on his trusty binmobile cycle and peddling off into the sunset.  Sadly for Algernon, his fantasy of finding and interrogating the Bristol Maid under the influence of good bread, good wine and good hands would soon come to an abrupt and horrifying end, when he realised that he was going to seduce nothing more than a cabinet on wheels.  Nurse Undeniable sniggered, she knew that even his daily cup of Bromide tea could never cool down his ardour as quickly as the *Bristol Maid!

*Bristol Maid = Drug Trolley

Joss Nevetonn was known at the bin for his favourite phrase.  Whenever something was amiss, a stern frown would precede tapping his forehead with his index finger and uttering the words "I've clocked it!"  A very proud and staunchly patriotic man, he had never been abroad and would not eat anything other than British food.  So when he heard that a riot had broken out over the increasingly unpalatable *cook & kill meals, he decided that his daily honey sandwiches were at risk.  Wedging himself in the door of the staff room, he clocked every movement and took aim.

*Cook & Kill - the term used by residents to describe the habit of being served meals that are cooked and fast chilled, resulting in excessive gas escaping from the rectum.

If only the local community knew what was happening in here.  None of them realise the plans for this once regal place.  Most of the world outside still think of it as the bin that cares for those who can afford that little bit extra with their daily dose of tranquilisers.  The type that prefer their medicines served on a silver platter by a nurse with a nice smile, who would never dream of using anything other than a formal address when speaking to a wealthy individual.  Of course time moves on but it moves toward darker times for those of us who walk its corridors of power.  And unbeknown to those that live close by, an oppressive shadow is descending.

How many of you that stumble into this place, see it as no more than the fantastical ramblings of an over imaginative mind?  Do you believe that an organisation can behave in this way?  Is Nurse Undeniable not just a bitter and paranoid employee?  Sorry to dissapoint you but although I may use some poetic licence, everything I report is true and I dream that one day, those that rule the bin will be brought to account.

The number of attacks on staff are increasing.  We take more and more seriously dangerous people.  The hospital policy of equality and diversity is laughable.  The bin has so many nurses by the short & curlies.  It becomes increasingly secure.  Locked wards with air vestibules where keys are changed and where nurses don the new piece of clothing.  A rigid leather belt containing various bits to securely house keys.  This new item is pretty dangerous.  Whereas if a patient grabs you by the clothes there is some give, the belt enables them to hold you tight from the back or the front for that matter, whilst they pummel you with their one free hand.  I've refused to wear it.  I'm a nurse, not a prison officer for gods sake!

The newest unit is staffed with many nurses looking for British citizenship.  The hospital provides them with work permits, and because of this they stay quiet.  Daily they take abuse and beatings and for what?  For an organisation that hides behind its once good and reputable status.  The unit hasn't been open 6 months and already it has seen a riot which needed the attendance of 17 staff and a number of police officers.  The latest casualty, a pretty young nursing assistant who has not yet seen 20.  A broken nose, a black eye, cracked ribs.  And five days after the incident her ward manager calls.  Not as you might imagine, to ask her how she is and whether she needs any kind of support, but to ask her when she is going to return to work and to let her know that when she returns she'll be on the same ward with the same patient who attacked her.  And this said patient was nursed behind a screen at her last place because she was is so dangerous. We'll just call her Annabelle Lector!

In my area, the bigwigs visited and expressed their concern that there were no tablecloths, napkins and neatly laid out cutlery in the dining room.  To appease them, we were ordered to provide said items to make the place look more homely, more condusive to enjoying a meal.  Within a week a patient had seized a knife and threatened staff, before heading out into the grounds with security in hot persuit.  What planet are these people on?

And expansion continues.  And we become even more secure.  It won't be long before there is a high perameter fence.  Yet staff are not paid in line with regional secure units because it isn't a regional secure unit.  They are and will continue to be as at much, if not more at risk than those who work in regional secure units.  It won't be long before something too awful to think about happens.  It could be your wife, your daughter, your mother, your father, your son.  Will you remember reading this when the unthinkable takes place?

George Pearce worked his way up the promotional ladder, within the finance department at the bin.  His days as a 17 year old trainee ledger writer gone, he now occupied the very senior position of counter clerk.  George was a timid man and although he had hoped that becoming Director of Finance would be the pinnacle of his career, he lacked the necessary psychopathic qualities needed for such an important role.  George always knew what was going on and a quick nod of the head and offer of a cigarette at the smokers colony would tease him into parting with all manner of information.  Proud of being the only person within a 100 mile radius of having Ornithophobia*, George always commenced his gossiping with "Well, a little puppet told me.....!"  Today was no different, when asked about his forthcoming 45th birthday party and his engagement to Penny Pincher the wage packet filler, he moved closer.  "Well, a little puppet told me......."

*Ornithophobia - fear of birds.

The extensive grounds at the bin are closing in.  What was a beautiful form of escapism for all who resided or worked within its walls, is dissapearing with each passing month as new buildings are erected in the onslaught to become the most successful specialist mental health provider in the country.  It's move to create further profits is relenting and in the midst of it all, others can only look on in amazement as it steamrollers its way over everyone and everything.

The latest casualty is the little building at the edge of the sports field, that holds so many memories for the staff who have used it as their meeting place. It has been their party venue, their opportunity to be part of a community of like minded people, something that was theirs, owned by them, something that couldn't be touched by the lords and ladies and the managerial brass monkeys forever aiming for the excessive monetary thank you at the end of each financial year.  The staff social club.

The closure of the staff social club has been on the cards for some time.  The hierarchical think tank planned its dirty deed months ago.  An email was circulated to managers suggesting, or should I say threatening, that should any of them oppose its closure or be found to be supporting staff that opposed its closure, they could say goodbye to any further promotion and in effect, life would be made very difficult for them.  Mysteriously, important documents showing that the social club indeed belonged to staff, went missing and two solicitors were left fighting to win the battle.

As usual, higher management has its tactics.  It will stoop as stupidly low as it can in an effort to exact its plan, to ensure that its workforce is further weakened.  "Aha......the building may belong to staff, but the toilets are ours!"  Without convenience facilities, the club cannot be opened.  So in the early hours, turncoats entered the building, padlocked and barricaded the toilets and returned to the office to receive their pat on the back.

So its gone.  Soon to be re-opened as offices, teaching rooms, whatever.  And this is their way, this is their charity.  How dare they labour under charitable organisation status?  But we all know there's often a chink in some charities don't we?  It's called being bent!

Cyril Pritchard, manservant, laundry man, waiter and general dogsbody, was better known to the residents as ‘The man that can!'   Cyril couldn't resist the charms of Nurse Undeniable. And determined to avenge those who would see her dissipated, he hatched a plan to cause disruption amongst the upper echelons of society at the bin.  With the annual black tie dinner looming, he hoped to court Nurse Undeniable with his dastardly plan, in the privacy of the old and rarely used dumb waiter.

Little yet much, has changed over the last few months.  I left this place festering whilst I gave time and energy to other things.  Gladly, things are back to normal now.  Just me, the dog and the cat.  That's how I like it.  Not having my time stolen, not giving over my life to the demands of others.  Absolute freedom of thought and action, well within reason.  Christmas and the New Year have come and gone.  It's time to take a deep breath and update this place.

My niece moved out rather abruptly.  I returned home one day to find a sentence written in pencil.  No thank you for everything I'd done, nothing.  Just a sentence ‘I'm going back to my mum!'  When I contacted them that night, my sister (mum) was drunk, she never gets drunk.  She hurled abuse at me and to this day I don't know what I've done, other than pick up the pieces when everything falls apart.  I'm sick of the repeated statement that always finds it's way back to me.  ‘Don't ever turn out like her!'  Ahem....what exactly is so bad about ‘her?'....me?  Anyway, she returned home to her mother and it lasted two days.  She then moved into rented accommodation because she wanted her independence and as expected, even that hangs in the balance at present.  Her mother will not accept any responsibility for the sordid state of affairs.  She by the way, is getting engaged to that man, who is 20 years younger and quite frankly has a brain the size of a pin head.  On Monday they go to Amsterdam.  Originally I'd been told that it was a girly trip but then I learn from other sources that he is going.  Of course she's paid for it, and she's paid for the ring.  She's denied it but I know she has.  The arrangement is probably that he can pay her back little by little.  He's on invalidity benefits you see. 

I suppose you're thinking that her life has nothing to do with me and you would be right.  But the repercussions of her actions do have something to do with me.  For instance, I learned that on New Year's Eve, she was threatening suicide.  I knew nothing about it.  The call was made to other members of the family and I only learned of it when one of them rang to tell me that her New Year had been ruined because she felt so low after talking to my sister.  And of course, there is my sister's daughter who has regularly been told over the last few months, that she will be the death of her mother.  It's a sordid state of affairs and whilst it doesn't belong to me, I guess I'll be sitting and waiting for it all to fall apart so that there is someone to pick up the pieces.

The bin of insanity still stands forboding in its huge grounds.  I lost my appeal, I didn't expect to win.  I also didn't gain promotion again.  As usual, there is always a political agenda.  There were only two of us for interview and they needed to move the other person from the ward he was working on.  He was already an acting deputy ward manager.  They only interviewed me because they had to be seen to be doing the right thing.  The interview was a farce and because of that, I knew I hadn't got the promotion.  Of course, I now sit smugly back and watch as the new deputy panics.  There is a sadistic pleasure in watching those who have been chosen over you, fail to carry out their new role with the confidence that you would have. 

Oh well, the window man is here.  Due to my niece breaking the frame of one of my bedroom windows in such a way that it couldn't be fixed, don't ask me why, you'll only set me off on one.  So, two new double glazed windows and I'll have to part with 700 pounds.  Why can't I find the bloomin' pounds sign on this computer?  Nice looking window man too, better get me lippy on!

Edinburgh, Glasgow, Newcastle, Liverpool all cancelled their New Year celebration fireworks.  Hooray thinks I, as I pray for gale force winds and torrential rain here in middle England.  A New Year's Eve without my dog wetting herself at each sudden bang crackle pop!  A New Year's Eve without drunken louts staggering home and ripping mirrors and windscreen wipers from cars.  A New Year's Eve without every other household holding an all night party when they know I've to be up at 0600.  Oh yes, how I was looking forward to the cancellation of the New Year welcome.  I took myself to bed early but couldn't sleep....drat!!!  I got up and popped half a sleeping pill which still hasn't kicked in.....drat!!!  I toasted the forthcoming gale force winds and torrential rain with a Bailey's but to no avail.  So here I am, letting you all know that I'm still around.  And that I have only one resolution in mind.  I shall keep up this blog more regularly.  I shall continue to slate my employer and I hope continue to interest you.

And on that note, I shall swallow the last drop of Bailey's and bid you all Peace, Happiness and Light.

God forbid those that know me well should stumble upon this blog.  Whether it be family, friends, colleagues or the organisation I have so much distaste for.  I've just walked away from some family members, although only a comment made by one of them led to my inability to carry on making my way to this year's balloon festival with them.  So I've come here to free myself of cumbersome troubles.  Why is it that the most passionate writing is always tinged with angst or sadness?

My relationship with my one remaining sister is strained.  I am dismayed and disgusted at her actions over the last 2 months.  Even more so, the man that has been present in her life for a short time, drives me to contemplate acts that would mean he would never walk again.  Namely breaking his legs or slicing off his excuse for manhood.  Do I offer you an apology for that comment?  Sadly, there isn't one forthcoming.

My sister is a 50 year old woman, with a daughter of 17.  A young woman who in the midst of teenage/parent squabbles, got involved with some worrying people and began using one if not more, of the substances that are so readily available these days.  Some of was given freely by her so-called boyfriend 'C'.  A 28 year old man with a penchant for young girls!!!  This (or these) substances, led to a change in her behaviour and the relationship with her mother became more fraught.  She, being only 17, soon tired of this 28 year old misfit and would often leave him chatting to her mother whilst she sauntered out with a group of people that were equally bad for her.  This socially inadequate blood sucker, listened intently to my sister's tails of woe and offered solace.  He even told stories about her daughter's behaviour, all the time insisting that he had her daughter's best interests at heart.  And suddenly BANG!  He and my sister are an item.  She tells her daughter to find somewhere else to live.  Insists she stands on her own two feet without any help.  So, a vulnerable 17 year old girl, despite what might be viewed as her failings, is left begging people for a floor to sleep on, until she can be housed in the dirtiest, drug infested accomodation in the town.  Her mother on the other hand, provides food and warmth to that man.  Is that right?

Of course my sister knew if she stuck her head in the sand, I would step in.  Why wouldn't I?  No way could I see my 17 year old niece on the streets.  I've taken her in.  Imposed strict rules.  Clothed her.  Accompanied her to all the places she needed to go.  Helped her to try and straighten her life out.  Given her the love and security she was missing.  On Monday, she starts her first job as a trainee nursery nurse with one day a week day release for her NVQ in childcare.

My sister, has changed.  She has overdosed on insulin in the past few weeks and threatened to attempt suicide again.  She doesn't say this to me.  She tells her daughter.  How could she do that?  It has been made clear to me that if I don't accept this man, I will be disowned.  Hmmm!!!!  In the meantime, Mr Take-Advantage, is contacting other members of the family, people he doesn't know.  He is making every attempt to paint an ugly picture of me.  It shows a marked lack of respect for those family members, if you ask me.  I couldn't care less that he doesn't like me, but I do care that he sees fit to tear a family apart.  And I care that in the midst of all this, a 17 year old is being sucked into the dirty little game and is ultimately suffering.

Do I hate him?  You bet I do. 

My sister is drawn in.  She's now trying to sabotage all I've done to help her daughter.  And I'm beginning to feel very alienated.  I don't know who I can talk to.  If you knew what I know, if you were aware of the history behind this family, you'd have some understanding of this torrid state of affairs.  The lies that are being told are amazing.  To be honest, I'm absolutely gobsmacked.

He and she, think I'm jealous.  Good God no!  I'm bloody disgusted.  My morals are much higher than sleeping with my daughters ex-boyrfiend.  Okay, maybe they are too high.  Maybe it is normal practice.  What on earth do I have to be jealous of?  The fact that my sister is seeing a 28 year old man?  I don't think so.  More power to her elbow.  But it's this particular man.  Besides, I prefer a man who is able to hold conversations outside of what his latest mobile ring tone is!

I'm trying to make some sense out of all this madness but I'm not getting anywhere fast.

A little calmer now.  I have to fill you in on the disciplinary appeal.  I lost.  But more about that later.  My family whinge will have to do for today.