Happy New Year Banjoh!

I know ads are better discussed on other blogs, but I have to mention Banjo and his worming tablets. Amazing stuff. I hope you have all seen him over this festive time. Banjo (spoken by cartoons with mouths that remain in the "oh" position for far too long) needs worming. He is wormed and allowed to smell nasty stuff from then on. Merry Christmas!

Of course telly is plagued with nicorette ads at present, and Special K and other diet themes. I don't know if people make resolutions to worm their pets as of Jan 1st though... And the TV programmes themselves are count downs of best and worst moments of 2006. It didn't seem like too much happened this year. How the mind soon forgets that Max very nearly died only days ago in't 'Oaks.

I did enjoy Grumpy Old Women the other night, discussing the perils of Christmas. Especially funny was when one woman forgot Joseph's name ("you know, Jesus' Dad. What was he called...?" I thought that that was probably God anyway). I am currently blogging until the New Year theme begins (in about 30 mins). The women were discussing the organisation that Christmas involves. I know we all need something to look forward to, and that the expectations are usually much more exciting than the event we are looking forward to, but I think that women probably most enjoy the organisation (with military precision) that Christmas entails. Now it is over I can look forward to a new year by writing lists of how I am going to be a better person come January. I will be thin, healthy and happy. And successful in my career. And teetotal. And rich, incidentally. I will do yoga, eat mango and passion fruit (but, heaven forbid, no wine!) and will work my little ass off daily. Updates to follow. Stroppy blog will be renamed. Something lively and upbeat. And it will be witty. Hmm...

Until the next installment... Fingers crossed I won't be made to write a cynical entry about the anticlimax that is New Year's Eve. I have already fallen out with Virgin trains* today when trying to book tickets to Edinburgh. Frankien and I will have a fine (wine fuelled) time!

Happy New Year.

Moon. xxx

* Incidentally it does seem that if you swear enough at the voice activated Virgin trains service, you will automatically be transferred to a call centre full of people that don't understand you and who ignore anything that the voice activated system actually manages to identify anyway. Saves a good ten minutes, I reckon. If you are a generally cleaner, nicer person than I, you might wish to try "grrrr" instead of the usual "fuck off" at the system. It seems to have the same effect.

in't Shire

Just a quick post: the advent blog is now about to be over. I can't post anymore due to dial-up difficulties in the Shire of Lincoln. So I am sorry for failing the task. I am currently enjoying lazing about all day, but I fear that the feelings of impending doom (i.e. never getting out of this Bermuda traingle) will soon kick in. This is because:
(1) The swirling, freezing fog is not lifting. It always hangs about where mum and dad live, but it seems to be everywhere at present.
(2) Every time I sit down a cat sits on my knee, which is nice but it does seem as if all at End Cottage are in cahoots in getting me to stay.
(3) I can't get out. Even if I could there would be nowhere within 20 miles worth escaping to. And that's only if Lincoln is considered worth escaping to. (It is in relative terms - it's either that or Grimsby or Scunthorpe...)
(4) The internet is the slowest thing in the world. And earlier the computer wouldn't even switch on. Soon the phone lines will be cut and the lights will go out.

So, in case I can't get a chance to post another rant-y blog before the 25th, Season's Greetings!

I have been getting some good snaps for future blogs. The New Year looks good!

Moon. xxx

email hoax

Yesterday I fell for an email scam, requiring me to forward a mail to 10 friends, CC-ing to J.Sainsbury and in return I would be awarded a £60 Sainsburys voucher. I am not normally so naive. In fact I actively take the piss out of people who are. Now look who's laughing. Not the one with the email inbox full of spam, that's for sure.

Some hoaxes are relatively sophisticated; the Ebay ones for instance are extremely well constructed. As are the Paypal, Barclays and other worldwide banks ones. However it's usually the request for a PIN number that is a giveaway (amongst many other clues of course). I am embarrassed at having fallen for a crappy scam and apologise to those 10 friends who will now likely be bombarded with more spam and viagra ads.

I might start posting some of my favourite spam mails. I have a rich and varied selection of these types:

Dear Freind,

I am a widow to Dr. Professor Bajaggarrra of Cote D'Ivoire, Africa. He recently died and deposited a VERY LARGE sum of money into a metal box. etc etc.

I know you are God fearing person and I trust that you will assist me in returning this money to an orphanage. For this I will give you 20 million (TWENTY MILLION) US dollars ($).....



Thanks, Friend.

Moon. xxx

l'alcool, or not so cool

Time to discuss the merits of wine, whilst also procrastinating from the work I should have been doing all week.

At least 3 times this week I have woken up and immediately smelt wine. I hate this about getting drunk on wine. At least spirits get you drunk quickly and then simply leave a bad head. Wine is unpredictable and leaves its taste for hours afterwards. However I have finally discovered some wines that I love and they are therefore being drunk to excess. I intend to enjoy these over the next couple of weeks and then, as of January 1st, give up drinking. Or at least cut down substantially.

When I get in a drinking routine I find it hard to stop. It doesn't take long at all to get into such a routine, either. (Why can't going to the gym be the same?) So there must be something a little addictive about it, despite the fact that the consequences (feeling like shite and not being good for nothing the next day) are dire. It has also taken until now to really enjoy drinking it, and it is evident that I am not a fan of hard work.

Not to mention the calories...

Taken altogether I don't know what it is that is so appealing about the stuff. Granted I have a nice time when pissed, but it just doesn't fit into my current routine well. And I always end up saying things that I regret, then have to deal with the damage at a later date. The only thing that I can come up with is that when I choose to get drunk (and I do go for it) I really let my hair down. It's such an escape from the ties of daily life that I get a buzz from the release.

Shit I've just convinced myself to continue drinking. If I can discover how to reduce hangovers whilst maintaining the drunkenness, perhaps I'll allow myself to break one new year's resolution. Any advice?

Moon. xxx

it's alright now...

I have recently posted about the sheer hell of Christmas shopping and the difficulties that seasonal festivities place on the work routine. Now is the time to reveal that the celebrations have actually been quite nice so far.

This last week has been totally unproductive, with boozing-a-plenty. I have loved it. This coming week should be pretty much the same, followed by going home at the end of it for a good few days off. Not to mention the wine and cheese!

This current serenity will soon be replaced with stress once I realise that I haven't done the work I should have done and I have spent all my savings on alcohol, but for now, I shall revel in it.

Moon. xxx

The world forgetting, by the world forgot

Last night I watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind; a film I have been meaning to see for some time. It has been ages since I have enjoyed a film so much. I have been trying to work out what is was, specifically, that was so appealing. I have come up with this (apologies if you have not seen this; it won't be the most interesting of reads):

1) The characters were unconventionally matched. Jim Carrey is a fine actor when he doesn't try to be funny, and the man he played was realistically self-conscious and introverted. He was partnered with a deliberately over-enthusiastic female who, whilst being attractively extroverted, also highlighted the differences between men and women (in relationships) well.

2) The memory element of the film had obvious appeal. This was because the couple essentially battled with being in control of their memories, trying to run away from obvious sources of them and hide one another in deep-rooted childhood moments. I felt the film dealt with this element as well as it possibly could have done, given the fact that a story based upon wiping particular memories associated with a person is a difficult thing to achieve in terms of continuity. And is a bit of a daft idea.

3) The film jumped about chronologically. I liked the way that, despite the memories of a person had been wiped, they had still influenced the characters in subtle ways, clearly altering their selves.

4) When one character was trying to regain control of memories that were being taken away from him, the film adopted a dreamlike quality. Although there was partial lucidity, there was still an external force (a laptop programmed to delete certain memories, in this case) moving the characters around into unpredictable situations. Just like a dream!

5) It was essentially heartwarming. I don't normally like heartwarming films. I like to think of myself as being in control of my emotions (although not the case). Occasionally I hear music or see a film that is touching. This film achieved this. I don't know if seeing it again would have the same effect; perhaps not. But it was a nice reminder that some arts can achieve this.

Moon. xxx

PS I know this is not my usual kind of blog, but it was time for a change. Rest assured I will be back to stropping about again tomorrow.

out of routine

I wasn't able to blog yesterday, so here's the second for the day, in keeping with the "blog each day of advent" plan. I am out of routine, you see. For the last few weeks work has been incredibly busy and I have had no choice but to arrive much earlier than usual, and stay until a reasonable hour. Such are the delights of testing. But now that term has ended there are no students left to bribe for participation and subsequently laugh at their dreams. (Of course I would never do that - highly unethical). And, as the season's festivities are approaching, there suddenly seem to be a load of things to do involving alcohol. Whilst it took me weeks to enjoy my early-start routine, it has taken a mere day (night) to get out of it. I feel permanently hungover. This makes it difficult to eat, which makes me feel sick, which makes me unable to eat. So I'll have a drink to cheer myself up, and the cycle perpetuates.

Who do I think I am, a flipping student or summit?

Moon. xxx

Evaluation

I have just returned from my (hopefully) last ever lecture at Leeds MET. Hurrah! 3 whole people turned up to each of the two seminars, and there were no fewer than 21 people at the lecture today. Please bear in mind that there should be 140 students enrolled on this course. I thought that an hour dedicated to "assignment tips" would have been one to turn up to. And hell, do they need it.

This teaching job troubles me. I wonder how much effort to put in with the students, as they are lazy and do no reading. I would gladly help them if they needed it, but they do not seem to care about why they are there. I tried to discuss their individual career options in the seminars, today, planning to be supportive and encourage them to work if they wished to remain in Psychology (or a suitable alternative of course). However, with the exception of the guy who wants to transfer to Leeds to be with his girlfriend, they had no plans. Perhaps this is normal. Perhaps I wouldn't have had my life mapped out at the age of 18. But it does leave me with a feeling of frustration: do I overwork and concern myself with my students if they do not care? It seems that no one cares for them. Perhaps all they need is a little encouragement.

I am trying to communicate this relatively eloquently. It is customary, following my 3 hours of teaching on a Wednesday, to return to the office screaming obscenities about the pesky students, how the job is a waste of time and how I hate the morals of the course (another issue altogether). So today I have been shamed. I asked the students to complete module evaluations. I was expecting to have to recycle them and complete my own. However I received glowing reports. (Any further comments on the course? "I am deeply saddened that Caroline won't be teaching us anymore." Ah!) This makes me feel awful. If I feel like this towards the students, they can hardly be being greeted with open arms by their other tutors. Poor sods.

I would still rather work somewhere else, though.

Moon. xxx

Dead cats

Quick post (just to maintain the supposed advent blogging). I see these in quite a few furniture places these days. I do not know why anyone would wish to buy them. The display below was a little OTT:




Better than a real cat in that they are cheaper to keep, they can be moved if you want a seat, or you just just leave them there and sit on them without feeling guilty. Apart from that though I find them strange.

Moon. xxx

Camp as Christmas

Yet more evidence of the bizarre seasonal festivities decorating our green and pleasant land.

Apologies for the quality of the pics, by the way. Had to use my phone.

Let's begin with the unfathomable dressed dog:



Rather sinister, don't you think? Well, there's plenty more where that came from.








How about the Christmas elf - the dark side. Or is it a frog? Festive, nonetheless:












This was the central display. I don't think the picture really captures it. It is a terrifying woman's head on a deer. With white antlers. I loudly exclaimed how it was the fodder of nightmares to my mother, and a passer-by overheard. He laughed, and then saw it. He jumped.



Finally, to which the title refers: someone's tried to make Santa sexy. And removed his head in the process. Well, I was never too bothered by an old overweight man. Good advert for Coke, though.



Moon. xxx

Party Season - 9th Dec...

...and tiring of the advent blog somewhat.

The next couple of weeks will see me leaving the house more often than usual: the party season is approaching. This has meant that I have had to go shopping. And what's in the shops? Party dresses only. I have never been to a seasonal party requiring an outfit like that. And Christmas balls require a different calibre of attire, of course. So I'm not too sure who buys/wears these glitzy little numbers, but perhaps I shall soon have a chance to see. Maybe I should get a job with HSBC purely for the office party.

Clothes shopping is always frustrating when there is the pressure of having to get something specific. And yesterday lived up to expectations. I utterly hated it. At one point I was trying on a dress in a cubicle alongside a woman trying on a (party) dress (perhaps she worked for HSBC). Her husband was sat outside the changing rooms with my Dad, who was trying to pretend that he wasn't bored senseless. The males loudly made jokes about their hate for shopping and how girls try on so many dresses. Well, yes, this is true. I have heard than on average people can spend longer searching for the perfect item when buying a dress than a house. I would like to agree with the silliness of the fact, but dresses are important wardrobe fillers. The woman trying on her party dress wanted her husband's opinion. He responded with "Yeah, yeah I like it. Nice. Looks like a nightie." Poor woman. Is it really so tough to make the right response?

Of course there is currently the added difficulty of having to dart between 15 billion people who have also decided to shop in Lincoln this year. And the Christmas market was on, which meant that there were stalls in my way-a-getting, often selling cowboy hats in the festive colours of red and white. More disturbing was that there were people buying (and wearing) them. Sick and wrong.

Today I am off for bout 2. Fingers crossed I can find something appropriate today. And maybe Dad will stop suggesting that he buys me a dress (that I don't want) instead of my recordable DVD player.

Moon. xxx

Driving home for Christmas...

But not driving, so much...

Apologies for the continual Christmas theme, however this is an advent blog (supposedly) and there's just nothing else going on.

Today was the last day of term, so no participants showed up for the final day of my study (apart from one lass who hadn't completed her dream diary and another who had stamps on her forehead that wouldn't come off. She was embarrassed but said she couldn't remember anything about it. Flaming students), which was a bit of an anticlimax really. I had planned to feel elated: always a daft thing to do. This latest study has been quite demanding. My very final participant also didn't show up, but did email to apologise saying that she would happily meet me in Old Bar at 5.20. I thanked her for this, although reminded her that it wouldn't be worthwhile as we needed an hour in the lab. Hmph.

Anyway after contemplating my PMT-fuelled mood I was dragged to the pub for a Friday pint. Much to my delight (scoff) it was an end of term "Old Bar brings you Christmas early!" party. Just what I needed. My favourite showed off the bar staff: there were the usual Santas, elves and snowmen (one with an amusing unicorn carrot). There was also a large lass in a brown outfit. See below. I couldn't initially tell what she was dressed as. A friend thought it was her normal attire. I think it must have been a reindeer, although without the antlers.





The students were reliably festive. There were scantily clad elves dancing at 21.15. I went home at 21.55. I do not like it. Tomorrow I am to head home to (hopefully) complete my Christmas shopping. I had completed mine in early November as I hate Christmas crowds. However I have to shop on behalf of my father this weekend. Woo. I refuse to go to Leeds as it is too busy and intimidating. At this time of year I do find myself drawn towards home. As to whether it is the seasonal spirit or the fear of big city centres, I'm do not know. I was also sat in the pub earlier tonight dreaming of going to slob on my sofa (not writing this blog, mind). I am revelling in the shorter days and the sanctity provided by my flat from the outside world. Christmas is detestable when out and about. So let's raise a glass to staying in. Cheers!

Moon. xxx

Bakery profile

I have just discovered that there is a bakery in San Francisco called "Calmoon". I liked this. Sadly I couldn't find a specific website apart from a yahoo-local style map of where to find it, and some related links, which were both amusing and informative. If you are a fan of "Sandwiches, rolls, baguettes, pies pastries, wedding cakes & much more" you can visit a certain bakery in the UK. Alternatively you could check out a UK directory of bakeries. Ah, the internet is a wonderful thing. Yet probably not too related if you are interested in exploring bakeries in California.

All this pastry talk reminds me of health psychology questionnaires: "When I walk past a bakery I find it difficult not to buy something delicious..." etc. Agree strongly. Very strongly.

Incidentally if anyone has 40 mins to spare and would like to complete a questionnaire on whether you prefer straight or wavy lines, please feel free to do so.

Moon. xxx

No Ifs, no Buts, no consequences...

It's another advert concerned post.

Today I am annoyed at the current campaign trying to clamp down on benefit fraud. It's a black and white ad beginning in a dingy car park - the setting of many a harrowing thriller. Although the ad hardly glamourises the fraud, all it seems to do is highlight that you'll get a telling off IF found. "You will be interviewed under caution and MAY even get a criminal record". Shit! Surely that's worth pretending to have a few kids and claiming some cash on their behalf?!

Incidentally benefit fraud pisses me off - just so you know.

Only 1 more day until the testing is complete for my current study. Hurrah!

Ill health has returned, by the way. Spent the afternoon sleeping it off on the sofa. So can't complain too much.

Moon. xxx

day 6 - not 5

The day began with usual strop-fodder: I could not find my advent gift. Where was the parcel for the 5th? Could I find it?! I found most of the others; but day 9 was missing, too. This was atypical behaviour. I resisted calling mum to berate her over this. Whilst giving a revision lecture to my beloved students this afternoon, it hit me: it is the 6th. Hence no no. 5. Upon investigating the 9 situation I discovered that my sister has two 9s. She is smug and now calls herself the favourite daughter. I want my 9!

Update on ill-health: nausea has lessened thankfully. Throat still a bit crackly. Had a couple of bad moments in a seminar today, much to the amusement of my students. You know when you feel a cough coming on but you have to stifle it; I used to save them for sax solos in swing band, or conference presentations. Of course the frog in the throat grows and a coughing fit duly follows. I must have turned scarlet in the seminar. I tried to give the class a task to occupy them whilst I coughed up my lungs in the corridor, but sounded like Jonny Vegas when tried to speak. Sodding teaching. Am feeling better on the whole, though, although still not sleeping.

This blog is a true diary these days! Perhaps it is their purpose, but I would like to have something a little more substantial to report than coughing in a class.

What is the current consensus on how damaging mibile phones are to health these days? I have no time for other hobbies as I sit on the phone for about 2 hours a night. Can't be good.

Final topic up for discussion: the optimism surrounding the fact that jobs are now being advertised for academic posts to start in Oct 2007. Hurrah! There is hope for getting out of Leeds! I am so excited about this; I cannot begin to convey the extent of it. I feel incredibly ready to move on, although I'm not sure why. I'm not unhappy with Leeds itself, and I enjoy my work enough to want to continue it indefinitely (a good sign) but I cannot wait to move on. Perhaps the novelty value has worn off. Perhaps I just get itchy feet after a few months; I do need to move flats at least annually. Perhaps there is the dream that with a move life will simply be better. I'm not sure. No doubt when I do move I will miss aspects of a large and sociable department, living in a young and vibrant city and being relatively close to home. But for now I can dream...

Moon. xxx

5th December: ill

Scraping the barrel a bit by now re: things to strop about. Will have to really make an effort not to write something disappointing on the 24th.

Today has been plagued with ill health. It was inevitable (see insomnia related post), but the severity is rarely lessened just because it was expected. I am feeling mightily sorry for myself today. The throat is raw. I won't begin to describe the nausea. On the plus side the fever means that the heating doesn't have to be on so much.

I did visit the German market before heading home today. I don't know when these markets became so popular, but they are quite quaint and heartwarming. Sod the wooden toys, though - far too expensive. I ate cheese on a stick, marvelled at the wurst and laughed at the "stollen" items (did take a picture but won't upload as want to go to bed...). I didn't see the garlic tent, which saddened me (for those who do not know, the garlic tent is a tent in the shape of a giant garlic. Amazing).

I have just realised that I haven't mentioned my advent calendar in my advent blog yet. My mother wraps a gift for each day; marvellous! Today I received pink socks. You can see the gifts under the tree, now that I have edited the previous posts.

hurrah!

Moon. xxx

Crochet knits all over shitting

Lots to report today. First, in keeping with the theme of this blog, I have to jump on the bandwagon of discussing adverts. How has this one not infuriated so many others? Glade Touch 'n' Fresh ("It's all gone it's all gone!"). You know, the one with the shitty little kid in the bathroom, who runs out of Touch 'n' Fresh and miraculously has the materials by the toilet to draw what has "all gone" and push it under the door to his neurotically happy mother, despite the fact that the bathroom is abnormally large and the toilet, upon which he is sat, is a good trek from the door. That poor child will be mortified if he realises how embarrassing that ad was, in years to come. However the kid is excruciatingly irritating. I just wanted to mention it.

Secondly Hollyoaks: I wish they would stop stretching out the evil Claire storyline. I've had enough of her now. This may be highly unwethical, but my participants dream of her. I don't find this interesting in itself, apart from emphasising the fact that Evil Claire is around far too much she is penetrating our sleep.

Third annoyance: recycling. There was an interview on BBC Breakfast today with some guy responsible for a local council's scheme. He said, "yes we check all bins and discard the contents if they have not been sorted properly". Lying bastard! He supposes that he personally sifts through the rubbish and puts ONLY a bit of it into a landfill? He should have said "I don't know what actually happens because I sit in my suit, but over 99% goes to a landfill. Bollocks to recycling. We're just pretending to do something worthwhile." Ra!

On the plus side: my Christmas tree is up, although the aubergine theme is not visible.

I also wanted to show off my new hobby: crochet. However to be honest they were both started by mum, and I've hardly done anything on the blue one.

And finally, I would like to introduce Cromwell. This isn't a great video, granted, but I didn't want Crom to feel left out because Dave was the star of a blog and he was not. This is Cromwell playing "Fish"; it's a ritual when I go home. He is very good at it.








Moon. xxx

Crisps and Chavs

Today has been a nice day; it's been difficult thinking of something to strop about!

Until my train journey back to Leeds...

The train was busy and I had to sit next to a kid who munched smelly doritos the whole way back, and kept kicking me. Over the aisle were 2 horrendous boys who were gobby and kept staring me out. And at Retford some dirty girl spat on the floor, which I think is unacceptable behaviour. I scoffed at her then ran away when I realised that she was actually quite frightening.

On the way back the weather worsened considerably. It was too windy to stop at Wakefield, which confused me, until I realised that it was something to do with travelling uphill and not being able to pick up speed after stopping. We were initially told that leaves were being blown on the line; clearly an excuse. Anyway, the stroppy issue about the bad weather is as follows: when you have long hair you end up looking like Medusa. And it's not a look I like.

I have also been trying to learn how to crochet today. Mum has been quite patient with me, but she is a crochet expert and so it's totally automatic to her. Although difficult in the beginning (actually I can still barely hold the needle corectly) I am excited by the prospect of woolly projects. They are sure to appear in future posts. How exciting! Cromwell the cat also likes the wool being about; yet another thing to run around after.

Moon. xxx

I can't get no sleep

Double negatives ahoy!

Next in the advent strop calendar: insomnia.

I go through phases of having trouble sleeping. Sometimes it becomes problematic; sometimes I can just progress as normal on little and fragmented sleep. I am currently somewhere in between those two realms. Although I am managing to get on with my daily activities, I have almost passed out on the way up the stairs to the office twice this week. I can't get to sleep for hours, then I wake up constantly throughout the night. I try not to focus on it, otherwise the alertness takes over even more. On Thursday night I decided to monitor the situation, however, so by the time I had woken up 6 times I thought I'd check the clock (a bad thing to get in the habit of doing when you're not sleeping): 1.30am. I'm not sure how I can manage on so little sleep, especially when I normally pass out anywhere with any kind of noise or distractions in the background. Perhaps I starve myself of sleep and then catch up for a few months. However I don't think this is healthy.

I went through the confident phase of thinking that I must just be one of those people who do not need to sleep. A young Margaret Thatcher (sans Tory mindset). So I put it to the test. In my Masters year I survived on about an hour of sleep each night for 3 weeks. And then I inevitably crashed and burned, in a horrifdic way.

So the sleep is clearly needed. The result is that whilst awake I float around in some odd half dream like state ("in the penumbra of uncertainty..." Garth Maranghi, 2004), and I feel frustrated and alert in the middle of the night. Perhaps I should start nightwalking. An old friend Evil Tom used to go nightwalking in Durham, and he'd meet up with all sorts of weird and wonderful nocturnal characters.

So, advice would be welcomed. I have tried all sorts of sleep rememdies etc. Perhaps I should use my time productively in the middle of the night. Please don't suggest reading, though.

Moon. xxx

The 12 strops of Christmas

Seeing as Ak ios doing an advent blog, I decided to do a similar thing: each day something worth stropping about. Today (as a treat) I have 3:

1) How come even though I go up and down the stairs leading to my office a record number of times (34 yesterday - sickening) they never get easier to tackle?

2) What is this "blogger has moved to google-crap" business? I know it happened quite some time ago, but I was lazy in making the move. Now blogger won't let me sign in with either my blogger or my goggle account when I comment on others' blogs. I have to go to the blogger main page, where it promptly tells me off for having cookies turned off (blah blah) - by which time the original comment has vanished. Rah!

3) Finally; blogger again. When I write a post I can't see what I'm writing until I preview it. What's the point, I tell you?!

If you're lucky I'll try to do a horrendous Christmas themed blog title each day, too. Today's reminds me of the DClinPsy's "12 fails of Christmas" a couple of years ago, which also involved clinicians playing recorders through their noses. OK it didn't but it sounded like it.

Moon. xxxx