Being The Girlfriend

Since my last post, my week went from bad to worse in that I started coming down with a cold: sore throat, feeling wretched, coughing. I had two days off back to back, so thought I'd be over the worst of it by Tuesday. Tuesday morning, I could barely move, my joints were so sore. I had no voice and my throat felt like I'd been swallowing cheese graters. I rang into work, I didn't have to explain too much, they were very sympathetic. Bless them.

I wish I was more British sometimes. More stiff upper lip. More stoical. I'm not. When I feel sick, I'm miserable, I don't like being sick, I don't like feeling off colour. I get low and grumpy. Mind you, I was low and grumpy to start with thanks to my finances. So I was very miserable and teary. Boy bless him agreed he'd come on the bus and waited patiently while I tried to make an appointment to see the nurse. Then my phone went and it was my own, personal guardian angel. Hottie.

She came round, took me to the surgery in her lovely comfortable car, waited patiently while the nurse and then the doctor had a look at me. I have the flu, but they didn't like the look of my peak flow and wanted to impress upon me that should I feel any worse I needed to come straight back. I wasn't particularly concerned until then, I just wanted to see someone medical, so I could say to work 'they said I shouldn't come in'. Hottie fed me hot soup, tea, drugs. She gave me sympathy, more tea, tissues and made us a couple of dinners to last us a few days. I even got foot rubs! Bliss. I did ask her to marry me, but she's already got 3 other proposals to consider and for some reason I think her boyfriend (and mine) might object.

Being poorly has meant that I've been watching daytime tv. Normally I avoid daytime tv like I avoid herpes, or chlamydia. It's dire. However, in the last few days I've ended up being gripped by ER, Dog the Bounty Hunter, Earthstorm (bad, unspeakably awful Sci-fi movie) and today Street Crime UK.

I really wished I had quit while I was ahead.

My Viking, tends not to talk about his work to me. He likes to leave it at work and come over for a break and general silliness. Occasionally, I do get a treat when he comes straight down after a night shift in his uniform, with his body armour and his utility belt. Ooooo missus! My what a large truncheon you have officer.

What can I say? I like a man in uniform.

Anyway, the point is, my Viking doesn't bring work home with him. We do occasionally talk about work in the most general of terms and more often than not, I know what he's talking about because I regularly read police blogs (go guys!) and I'm interested. This morning I watched Street Crime UK. And I wished I hadn't. There were these brave men and women dealing with the drunk, drugged and congenitally stupid in the most part with good humour and always with professionalism.

My man isn't allowed to blog about work anymore. He's been gagged. So you don't know that due to staffing issues, he was the only one on response for many shifts, including the weekend. The buck stopped with him. I'm really proud of him for what he achieved that week; and he came home safe and sound. I do worry about his safety. I'm just the girlfriend, but I do wonder if one day I'm going to get a gentle tap on the door and whether someone with sad eyes will make me a cup of tea.

But the fact of the matter is he's doing this because it's who he is. He wants to make a difference, to do his job in spite of the paperwork, the shit hours, the lack of manpower. He loves it and I'm really proud of him.

There are some people who really need to hang their heads in shame. This pay issue beggars belief. I've had a look at the forums and discussion groups and there's so much shite flying around that the point is getting succesfully buried. The point is the police aren't bickering about the peanuts they've been offered, they're angry that the pay won't be back dated to the point when the talks began.

The point is they are only asking for what's fair.