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A Shift On Maternity ward, Australia 2022

It’s a morning shift, the ward is a long, large L-shape with six bays (four beds in each) seven single rooms and two soundproofed bereavement rooms.

Looking in from the entrance it’s a hive of activity. Cleaners mop, wardies push beds, partners look for loved ones, midwives wheel babies in cots, trolleys jostle for space … blood collectors, meal delivery, laundry and obstetricians with their piles of precariously teetering charts.

Voluminous blue curtains surround each bed giving privacy but it’s noisy with the chorus of call bells, IV pumps, women in early labour, babies crying, private conversations, staff chit-chatting.

Chicken Owning FYI

Owning a few chickens, how hard can it be?

Give em seed, leftover greens, fresh water, shelter, plenty room to do their thing then sit back and enjoy.

The First Calf

Barry our original cow dad was delivered from up north. Arriving home that day we could see a trailer with its back door open, a young bloke sitting on the curb, beside him on a lead cute teenage Baz calmly nibbling the nature strip.

We watched with bated breath as he sauntered into the paddock, sniffed his new mate Sally then made a beeline for the expensive bale of lucerne in the corner, no fence jumping or running off this time, we were learning.

But this compliant beginning didn’t last.

Emigrating to Oz

A young couple, Nurse/Midwife and Marine Ecologist, leave cold, rainy Scotland for the sunny climes of sub-tropical Queensland, Australia.

He likes adventure, change, excitement, she prefers calm, order, peace and quiet.

Their bond, an overdeveloped care factor for all living things

One small block of land and many animals later, how does it all work out? What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter 9. The Runaway Cow

Acreage and animal ownership brings joy and pain in equal measure, responsibility and hard work, you have to be up for it all. We’ve learnt on the job, made a few mistakes along the way.

Our first ever cow (Sally) arrived in a hired trailer. It was dusk. Rob drove in , shut the gate, then peered at her wondering what to do next?

Hindsight and many cows later, we should have left her exactly where she was, in the trailer with fresh hay and water till the morning.

Seems obvious? Right?

The Night Shift

Glasgow Royal Infirmary, 1988, a drunk lad pinned down by police and porters, “get tae fk, get aff me ya bastards!” face slashed (bottle/knife?) skin flapping, blood spray up the curtains, on the docs white coat. “Keep still!!”

My job, apply pressure (try not to get stitched to mental boy in the process) fingers scarily close to needle, thick black silk, no plastic surgeon, no operating theatre. Finally, the doc finished, another ‘Glasgow kiss’ done.