this day

For anyone who didn't see it in the comments, Bryan was arrested on a drugs charge today...and called L for help. Help was obviously not forthcoming. I don't even know what he thought Greg could do.

Anyhow. Sherlock's blisteringly angry about it and thinks Bryan should be boiled in oil at the very least. Getting him to settle down for bed was basically impossible, and he sat between us on the sofa until he drifted off around eleven.

L took him upstairs and then we talked for a while. I'm also angry. Obviously. Trying not to suggest he should be boiled in oil or anything similar. It wouldn't help, and Sherlock doesn't need the encouragement.

We went to bed. I'm reading Some Buried Caesar again and read some of it to L. Possibly not the book for him as it put him right to sleep. Although, really, it was midnight by then, and he hadn't had the easiest day, so.

And I'm still awake. Shoulder hurts, leg hurts, brain hurts. Oh, and I worked today. Got one call where a fourteen year old kid had been arrested for attacking his grandmother. So there's that as well.

I don't know if writing this down has helped or not. Going to read some more I think.

underground sofa

I ordered the sofa today/yesterday...after much debate from all sides. I think Sherlock would've preferred it to have sequins, and Mycroft would've preferred one solid colour including cushions. L and I mainly wanted it to be comfortable and not show too much dirt. Or dog hair. Brown was definitely the way to go there, I think.

This is the sofa:

And this is the colour scheme, because I could not for the life of me work out how to make their website display the sofa in those colours:

Also, have some pictures of the early days of the London underground. I like 8 and 10 the best, I think. The complaints poster is wonderful.

Underground Sofa would be a good band name.

And I'm awake again. As you may have noticed. Think I will wake L up this time and try not to be such an idiot. Good night. 

clarity

Here's someone who's embedded body monitoring technology under his skin. 

The article seems to say it only monitors body temperature, which makes one wonder...why he bothered? Proof of concept, I suppose. Still, interesting.

Sherlock's done very well at school and got a sticker in his book - not just academically, but he's done well in getting along with the other students and listening to Mrs N too, which is wonderful, and we're very proud of him. We're planning a trip to the bike place when Mycroft comes home, partly as a reward for him. I imagine he'll also get cake. Between L and Mrs H, cake is inevitable. ;)

The football has gone well...there maybe have been some dancing around the room. It's been a good day, despite the weather.

Sherlock was sitting on L's shoulders last night, watching the fireworks, and when I glanced at them, they were both looking up at the sky with the exact same expression. There's something about the tail end of summer that seems to drag on and on, until you've hit the middle of October and still feel it with you. Maybe it's just me, but the air seems clearer now. 

murray

So, that was Murray. I'd told him about L and the boys and life in general obviously, but not about the blogs because I knew he'd be on here in a flash with every embarrassing story about me he could think of. He was surprisingly restrained though. Not just in that but in general. I suppose it comes of being home and trying to decide what to do next. Because you can't do that sort of thing forever, no matter how...essential it feels. You have to pick when to get out, or the choice gets taken away from you.

We talked a lot, mostly in the middle of the night, so that I feel about as sleep deprived as L does after those night shifts. Yawning my head off. I'm really glad he came to visit, mockery and all.

L and Mycroft have been baking - making cherry and almond cupcakes for Nicky and her family, and banana ones for his mum. It will be a struggle not to eat them before dinner. Or instead of dinner.

For Sherlock (who's been very good today after yesterday's episode of theft, hostage-taking, and coercion into ponds) an old medical illustration with various ways of stitching wounds:

voyager

Stardust from PostPanic, a short film about Voyager I. I originally thought of Mycroft when I saw this, but I'm not sure how much he's going to like it, given it's mostly computer generated and not real footage. It is beautiful though. 

So. I am signed up for the FME course in Birmingham. It starts one week from today. I'll leave the night before, mostly because it starts early enough that I'd have to be on the road long before I prefer to even be conscious to make it in time, but also because I think saying goodbye to Sherlock before he has to leave for school would be disastrous. At least this way he'll have Sunday evening with L to get used to the idea and make biscuits or something. 

No, to make mango eggs, he's just told me. (Hope you're prepared, L...) He also says he'll be fine and he's very very grown up now and won't miss me at all and what day am I getting back? If only all it took not to miss people was being grown up. 

Seeing Birmingham again will be a bit strange. The last time I was there, I was a patient at Selly Oak, I think very shortly before they started moving it all to the new Queen Elizabeth Hospital. The time before that I was visiting someone there, and the time before that I worked there for a little while before I was sent to Kosovo. I gather they're turning the site of the old hospital into some sort of residential area? I'd like to see it though, if anything's still there. 

super powers

Someone asked in the comments of L's blog what his preferred super power would be. Pretty sure mine would be sleep. Just...sleeping through the night, no nightmares, no waking up and wandering around and worrying. The ability to nap instantly anywhere would be great too. I used to be able to do that. Doesn't seem to work very well anymore. 

caught in this isthmus of a middle state

Paralympics women's doubles medal ceremony:

Esther Vergeer's record is just amazing. I think she's got over 20 slam titles, and a few years ago she topped 400 straight wins. (I know this is late, but a lot of the tennis I'm just watching now.)

Also, there's this. I think they're fantastic, and I wish I'd had anything like that amount of determination when I got home.

Anyway, life goes on. L's told me a little about his case, which is...not good. Some of the cases he works are fairly ordinary, if murder can ever be said to be ordinary, and some, like this, leave me wondering how things like this can happen, how anyone can do these things.

Sherlock asked me what the point of life was today, which was a more complex question than I was expecting to have to answer while making cheese sandwiches on four hours of sleep. I'm afraid I didn't have a satisfactory answer for him. 

one confession

L - seems only fair to tell you, since you told me yours. Number seven. 

Day Ten: One confession.

I keep trying not to write this, because I don't think it's appropriate for a blog, or...for anywhere really. But I think can't think of anything else. Not because there aren't other things to think of, but because this one seems to have driven all of them out of my mind. So. 

I've killed three people. Even in retrospect I can't think of a way I could've acted differently without the people I was supposed to be protecting getting badly injured or killed. I suppose I'm lucky in that regard. They were fairly clear-cut situations. 

I don't really feel guilty. I don't really feel anything. Sometimes I feel guilty about not feeling guilty. Mostly when I think about it I feel sort of...empty. I don't know. A lack of any recognisable emotion. I worry about that fairly often. About what it says about me. 

I know this is hardly a unique experience in war. But I've managed to accept most of the things I've seen and done, and I still don't know what to do with this. I don't know if I ever will. 

seven things

Day Four: Seven things that cross your mind a lot.

I think this is going to end up being seven things that have crossed my mind a lot in the past week, whether I intend it to be or not. 

1. How I could be doing a better job with the boys. 

2. Murray, who's due home fairly soon. I don't know if he plans to go back. 

3. How I could've been a better son.

4.  Or just...how to be better generally, I suppose. Feel like I keep screwing up recently. 

5. Red, his mum, how kind she's been to me in the past. 

6. That BMW. 

7. How lucky and grateful I am to have Lestrade in my life. 

Day Five: Six things you wish you’d never done.
Day Six: Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever)
Day Seven: Four turn-offs.
Day Eight: Three turn-ons.
Day Nine: Two images that describe your life right now, and why.
Day Ten: One confession.

nine things

Right...only took me about three hours to do this...

Day Two: Nine things about yourself.

1. Europe, Asia, and Africa. What? I'm sure that's all you wanted to know about it.

2. Somewhere there is BBC documentary footage of me showering at Bastion. I assume they thought the showers would be empty, but I think they could've turned off the camera a little faster. I'm quite grateful it was never used.

3. In medical school, a friend and I once covered every single cadaver with shaving foam.

4. When I see the poppies for Remembrance Day now, all I can think of is the poppy fields in Afghanistan.

5. I thought I'd die over there. I wasn't hoping to, or especially afraid of it. It just seemed likely, if I kept going back, and I knew I'd keep going back.

6. When I was young, four or five, Harry used to lock me in the basement because I was scared of the dark. She went off and forgot about me once, and Mum thought I was in my room. I was down there for about six hours.

7. I climbed about three quarters of Mt Kilimanjaro and then had to go back with another climber who was suffering from altitude sickness - high altitude pulmonary oedema, pretty bad. He was all right in the end though. He gave me the cigar he was going to smoke at the summit. I think I still have it somewhere.

8. There are so many things I don't feel I can tell anyone, because it's not fair to put those images in their heads. Bad enough they're in mine.

9. I saw a UFO once. I mean, literally a flying object that I couldn't identify. Not saying it was aliens. Just that it was odd.

Day Three: Eight ways to win your heart.
Day Four: Seven things that cross your mind a lot.
Day Five: Six things you wish you’d never done.
Day Six: Five people who mean a lot (in no order whatsoever)
Day Seven: Four turn-offs.
Day Eight: Three turn-ons.
Day Nine: Two images that describe your life right now, and why.
Day Ten: One confession.

jumping

The day Lestrade got this new case and had to be out past Sherlock's bedtime was the same day I had my physio. Could've gone badly. Sherlock's become very attached, as you probably couldn't help noticing, to his murder stories, but the stories aren't the real issue. He just likes having L there to tuck him in and say goodnight, not that I think he'll admit it. So it could've gone badly, but instead there was jumping.

Sherlock's not much for pretending, generally. Not for him the 'floor is made of lava' type games. Usually.  Turns out it works better with phrasing like, 'What if the flat was suddenly flooded with superstrong acid?' Although he did point out that it would eventually dissolve the furniture and the floor as well if it were that strong, and then we'd be in trouble, and anyway was there really an acid strong enough to 'melt people'?

There was a lot of jumping from one piece of furniture to another, followed by acid research online and wondering how hydrochloric acid could exist in our stomachs if it's that strong, which then led to him telling me all about carnivorous plants that trap their prey in various ways and digest them with acid. Although not all the way, because we also looked at some pictures of dissected pitcher plants online and they're all full of insect corpses. Fascinating really.

And then he asked about chlorine gas and chemical weapons, which was a less cheerful conversation, but did lead to him claiming he could do more jumping jacks than anyone in the Army. He demonstrated. I think he may possibly be right. By then, it was meant to be his quiet time before bed, so we read his mummy book on the couch for a while.

Never a dull moment. Even on the bad days, I sometimes wonder how I got this lucky. 

song about nothing, song about sheep

I had things to post about, but I can't remember any of them right now. Irritating.

L's been asleep most of the night, thankfully, though I think I hear him moving about now. Sherlock was up briefly, but I put him back to bed and stayed with him for a while. Nightmares all round tonight, apparently. Part of it was Mycroft going back to school with things so unsettled here I think. Neither of them were happy about it.

His nightmare was about a vampire in the living room. Coffin on the floor by the sofa. He said it was just lying in there with its eyes closed looking dead. And he made sure I knew he wasn't even frightened of vampires because they're not real.

Mine, predictably, was about Afghanistan. At what point exactly do I get to go back to having nightmares about...oh, giant potatoes crushing me, or clams, or boots with teeth? You know, normal things. 

fine

Busy day. Got Sherlock to school, got me to work. I was the only doctor there this morning so it was a bit busy. Lots of sniffles, coughs, fevers, etc (not that kind of etc). The flowers L sent are out on the receptionist's desk now, because as nice as they smell, it's a little overwhelming in an enclosed space, and the room I see patients in is quite a small enclosed space. She says my 'young man' must be very sweet, and I told her she was right.

After work, first physical therapy appointment. Yes, it hurt. I'm fine. It's just pain; it's not as if there's anything actually wrong. If I was quiet, it's because the alternative was being snippy, and I don't want to do that. I know you're all just worried.

Picked Sherlock up. He looked at me like was going to explode for a few minutes and then declared that I was fine and not bleeding or anything so why was L so worried? Ha. 

everywhere

DW asked in the comments of L's post if I'd managed to hurt myself carrying him off to bed and I'm writing it down here so I can remember for the next time I have a similar brilliant idea. Answer: yes. Not badly, but yes. Shoulder: certainly better than this time last year, but (key point) not as good as it was ten years ago. Or even two. Good job, self.

Liz wanted to know: How about places you would like to go on holiday? Either to show the boys different areas of interest or just because you've always wanted to go!


Oh...everywhere? Italy, obviously, to meet L's family and see Venice and Florence and Rome and...well, everything. I think the boys would really like Japan, and then there's New York City of course, with its blog readers and cupcakes and so on.

I'd really like to see Pripyat (the town near Chernobyl) though obviously I wouldn't want to take the boys along for that. No matter how much Sherlock would probably enjoy it. I have no idea whether L would be interested or not.

Camping in Yellowstone Park would be amazing, and there's some massive national park in Alaska too (even though it's apparently full of bears and mosquitos) that I've seen pictures of and it looks so...wild. I know that's the point, but it's still impressive.

Let's see... Anywhere in France that isn't Paris. I'd go to Paris too, but I've been once already and I think the taxi drivers try to run you down on purpose.

I'd like the boys to see Egypt and the pyramids and all that and hopefully I could avoid being arrested again. Let's see... The Great Wall. Australia (all of it). The Amazon, mainly for Sherlock, since he's the only one of us excited about the concept of spiders bigger than your head instead of terrified sensibly cautious.

...Maybe you would've been better off asking where I don't want to go? This isn't a remotely realistic list, of course, but it's nice to think about.

due to some confusion

Explanations:

1) In the poll, NSY = New Scotland Yard (i.e. Lestrade & Co.). City of London is the City police force. The four horsemen are, of course, the four horsemen of the apocalypse, but they're only reserve players.

2) Innie asked on L's post yesterday if I had any tattoos, and I admitted that I had, once, but it was small, and then I got shot, and what now remains is a scar and maybe a fleck or two of black ink. L guessed what it was (eventually, with some help). A target, a bullseye. To which everyone's natural response was, "Seriously?" Yeah. What can I say? That's the way my life works.

I said I'd explain how that happened.

baby geese, goslings, they were juggled

From the park today

It's funny. When I was fresh out of hospital and limping around London with a sour expression hating the world, I thought sometimes I must actually be invisible. It was the only explanation I could come up with for the sheer tenacity with which people ignored me. That, or they thought I was going to ask them for money.

a thing you might want to watch

I suppose I'll be offering this one without comment as well, since I can't think of anything useful to say. There are bits of it on youtube, but not the bits I wanted to show you.



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I don't know if this embedding deal is actually going to work (it's not showing up on post preview), so I'm going to link it as well.

Inside Afghanistan part 1

Inside Afghanistan part 2

lighthouse

I love lighthouses. 

All of them. But especially old ones. With those massive Fresnel lenses. 

the d is for danger

In a blatantly obvious attempt to get back at me for embarrassing him about his "boo-boo," Lestrade asked me what the H and D in my name stood for. The H is for Hamish, which was my grandfather's name, and not at all embarrassing, despite what the bigger boys in primary school tried to tell me.

The D...actually is for Danger. It's not my fault, nor my parents' fault either. Some of the people I served with in Afghanistan called me that - with a fair amount of sarcasm, I think; I was never one for drinking all night and then playing with explosives, unlike some people I could mention.

resolution

In training, I had a sergeant who talked a lot about death. I guess to get us used to the idea, to get us joking about it. "When you die, and some of you will die, die with dignity, with honor, with resolution."

As a result, I can't think about New Year's resolutions, about this great beginning of a new, unknown life, without thinking about death. I think if anyone had asked me, at any point in Afghanistan, if I was ready to die, I would've said yes. Not that I wanted to. Just, I felt I'd done enough with my life, I suppose. And when I got back, that same feeling, stronger. Not "done enough with" so much as "done with".

And now I'm anything but done, so, resolutions:

1. Learn to cook one thing so Mrs Hudson can have a night off once in a while
2. Keep anyone I care for from getting kidnapped
3. Live

Phobos and Deimos are asleep on my feet. One great, slobbering, jowly head per foot, wetting down my brand new Christmas slippers.  The boys are all tucked in. Harry's asleep and sober on the sofa. Mrs Hudson's asleep in her own bed downstairs. Lestrade's most likely asleep in mine, which makes me either a very dedicated blogger or a bloody fool. Good night.