Hotel Hobbies

I've just awoken in my hotel room, with that initial feeling of disorientation. A couple of moments of self inquisition Where am I? Why am I here? elicited quick answers. The third question Why am I ? would take a little more thought.

I am in a faceless corporate hotel at the behest of a faceless private sector conglomerate in a faceless midlands town, well Wolverhampton to be honest (it might actually be a city, I'm not sure). We never really forgave Wolverhampton for deserting Staffordshire. I always arrive at these big relatively posh hotels with a sort of childish relish, like it is some sort of treat. Though to be honest when you've stripped away the veneer and the overly servile staff its not really different than a Blackpool B&B. After all a room is a room, a bath is a bath, an underpowered wired in hairdryer is an underpowered hairdryer and a bed is a bed (actually it isn't, this one is huge and dreamily comfy! but you get my point). I have resisted the urge to follow the teachings of my TV guru, Ross from Friends, who believes when staying in an expensive hotel it is your right nae duty to help yourself to as many consumables as you can. Toiletries and stationary are obvious, batteries from the remote and bulbs from the lamp less so. In fact I have let my guide down so badly I haven't even touched the tea and coffee!

Anyway its time a got myself moving instead of Blogcrastinating. We are doing something called Job Matching, which is unfortunately not matching Debt Collectors with a pack of ravaneous hyenas but something to do with Job Evaluation, Job Descriptions and Job Specifications but not sadly Bob a Job (a blast from my 70's past!). I am having trouble focusing (Well duh! says any reader of these endless parentheses, parenthesise, parenthesises, oh well brackets!), now I have found out that one of the managers used to have a much more interesting job. Dean is a lovely, personable man who is like Danny DeVito's cockney cousin. Anyway he dropped in conversation that after leaving the RAF, he worked for Prime Ministers flying them all over the world (Not sure if he flew the plane, he was something called a Loadmaster). Anyway he worked for John Major (a really nice guy who still sends him Christmas cards, and Thatcher (spit in the waste bin!) who was a bit unapproachable but worked amazingly hard). Of course I was suddenly full of questions ranging from "Where was the most dodgy place you through into?","Yemen" to "John Major & Edwina Currie! what was that all about?", He couldn't believe it either. I wanted to ask him if he thought it was his duty for the nation to push Thatcher out the airlock at 15,000 feet, but thankfully resisted it.

Anyway (I really use anyway too much! any suggestions for an erudite alternative?) so much for nonblogcrastination (check that! spell checker), the weather is fab and I still have my eyebrows to pluck.

Adendum. For no particular reason I have Shrek the Third on my TV. Well actually the reason is that I had free hotel movies along with internet access, and I didn't fancy "No Country For Old Men" violence at 7 am!.

Anyway again, Ive just done my hair and makeup and noticed I look worryingly like Princess Fiona, just less green! Oh well, I suppose its an improvement from looking like Shrek! ...

The Bourne' Oration

Well Today was my turn to step up to the plate. I was due to speak on the first motion of the day. Motion 19 Violence and Aggression against public sector workers.( Apparently it is a bad thing!!) Anyway I desperately didn't want to strike out, but should I attempt a safe bunt or slog for the home run (strained analogy alert!)

The motion was similar to the one I spoke on in Manchester earlier this year at our Health Conference. This was an altogether bigger affair with twice as many delegates. So last night found me awake till the early hours refining, honing, and eventually ripping up and starting again, my speech. My biggest worry was timing. I had 3 minutes to fill, but must not go over as I would get the red light and be cut short. I needed to rehearse with an audience. So over the speaker phone to Vicky I went through my paces. With a couple of alterations at her suggestion I eventually settled on my script which was scrawled across 8 sheets of tatty note paper.

Waking up in the morning I started fretting about my appearance. To most delegates speaking I'm sure it's not that important. For me however, it was always going to be an issue. I may be the only transgendered woman speaking all week. I wanted to give the best impression I could. I settled on my full black linen skirt with a pattern of white circles round the hem (it is nicer than it sounds) and a new white top with a lace panel round the neckline(ditto). However I ran into a bra paradox. I had two bras with me. My favourite black one which made the most of my boobs, and a white one which was a bit large for me. The black one was clearly a fashion disaster cliche, worn under a white top. The white one just didn't cut the mustard in boob shapeage. The solution: wear both. The black one for shape and the white over the top for camouflage. So for this day I was to be Jenny Two Bras.

I got to my seat in the hall early. My motion was to be first up, but prior to that would be opening addresses and some complicated standing orders wrangling. After what seemed like an age while I silently went through my lines as conference proceeded, it was the turn for Motion 19. Thanks to some helpful colleagues from our region, I was scheduled to speak third up. If you are far down the queue there is a danger that someone will call for the vote and your chance to speak is lost. The chair of conference nodded and smiled at me and up I went. I stood for a few seconds as the rostrum rose to the right height for the microphones. I looked up and all I could see were swathes of faces peering back at me, sweeping right up to the far back of the room. There were so many people to see that they almost merged into a glutenous wodge of trade unionism. Once into my stride my speech was over so quickly. It seemed to go down well, though its difficult to tell as generally everyone gets good applause. The positive was that I didn't stumble over my words, knock down the podium or tread on the back of my skirt thereby pulling it down in front of 3000 people, which had been amongst my anxieties.

I have to admit I got a buzz from speaking and now find it hard to see what I was so anxious about. I shall probably start to annoy everyone by speaking on almost everything I can.

The Bourne' Ability (you fed up with this theme yet?)

Hola from B'mouth. Well today was the first day of the Local Government Conference. It was very similar to our Healthcare conference but just a tad more shouty. I have by now pretty seamlessly slid into conference mode. There are certain developed abilities that I have gained from years of conferencing that now come into their own.

1) The 30 yard stare. This is necessary to run the gauntlet at the entrance to the conference. There is always a phalanx of various, and normally socialist pressure groups, trying to get you to sign a petition, attend a fringe meeting or just buy a copy of Socialist Worker. The thing is if you stopped for everyone and picked up all their flyers, newspapers etc, not only would you be late, but you would have to carry a bushels worth of paper (Don't really know how big a bushel is but I'm hoping its a lot). I do admire the determination and passion of these activists. I swear if I got to the conference at 5am in the rain they would be standing there waiting to pounce.

2) Buns of Steel. Conference seating is by far the most uncomfortable on the known planet. Diogenes, the Greek philosopher reputedly lived in a barrel. As uncomfortable as that would have been I still would bet against him lasting a whole conference day in those seats. Funnily enough after a day in cramped seats with no leg room I am left with a Dodgy Knee! (My god that's a poor joke, even by this blog's "Standards"). Years of these conferences have pretty much destroyed all of my nerve ending in the cheekular area, meaning I can now sit for hours in numbness.

3) The Automatic Applause Reflex. As if on autopilot after only a few motions debated my hands automatically clap every speaker. It is not uncommon for me to end up applauding both sides of a debate, without realising it. This is essentially a bit stupid! i sometimes think that if I am not concentrating I would applaud almost anything. For instance, Motion 1 - Conference calls for the shooting of puppies, and the abolition of cake could find me applauding while 3,000 people stare at me! Mind you I think this lack of concentration and attention must have been how Bush was elected.

4) Conferencespeak Fluency. I can now use words like Motions, Composites, Standing Orders, Ammendments; Abreviations like SCG, NEC, SOG, SOC, (If you are on the SOC and the NEC, are you a SCONE?) and phrases like "What branch are you from" and "What you doing for lunch?" with hardly a pause for irony. I have now started prefacing every statment with "I'm Jenny Harvey from North Staff Community Health Branch", which is embarrasing when ordering chips! I can now also decipher a 3000 word motion that probably just means in effect "Conference believes cake is good", or something. I can even understand the odd Rule Change (and we do have some odd rules).

5) Freebie Detection. I can after years of attending the exhibition stands now spot a good freebie stand at 40 paces, even when its surrounded by inferior kind. I can also now manage repeat visits to said good freebie stand without appearing to be a scrounger. Best freebie ever: huge colour changing mugs at an HR in the NHS Conference.

The Bourne' Idiocy

Well I'm down in sunnyish Bournemouth, trying to avoid opening the Pandora's Box that is my suitcase. I'm knackered from the journey. The problem is in these years A.J (Anno Jennifer) the weight of my suitcases have increased in direct proportion to my hormone induced decrease in upper body strength. Oh, for the days when 2 pairs of trousers, 3 shirts and 1 pair of shoes could serve me the whole week and more. On second thoughts perhaps not, but being a conference gal is definitely tougher work. I have managed to pack most of the contents of my house, including such essentials as this unportable 17'' lappy, DVDs to watch, heavy mp3 speakers, iron, hairdryer, straighteners, digital camera, graphics tablet. All very good and obviously necessary, but I have forgot my bleeding mobile phone! Thankfully Vicky has saved the day and is sending said phone down with another delegate on Monday.

Anyway the case won't unpack itself

The Bourne(mouth) Intimidation

Well Ive just finished packing, and tomorrow I'm off to our Union's biggest conference of the year, in Bournemouth. Now when I say packing I mean stuffing as many different clothing options into a cheap suitcase hoping the seams last out. I am currently suffering the usual mixture of excitement (Yes I am tragic enough to get excited by this sort of thing!) and the jitters, due to the fact that this year I will have to speak. As you see, it isn't the most intimate of venues, and it will be full, so I am just a tad intimidated. Anyway I had better get some sleep for once, although I think the train journey takes about 3 weeks, so I should be able to sleep to the rhythm of the sleepers.

I have just noticed that my posts / day have dropped from a high of 1.18 Feb through 1.13 March, 0.77 April to a pitiful, paltry 0.48 last month. I don't subscribe to a quality over quantity ethos. Give me bulk any day! On a restaurant menu I will usually pick the biggest portioned meal for my bucks. So on this basis I need to pull my finger out and give more value for money! If this month on month fall in productivity fails to be reversed, as early as September I will have ceased writing any new posts, and by Christmas I will have deleted half of the remainig ones.

......Gammo......Latest.......

The enigmatic Gammo Speng has now fully broken cover and started to make tentative human contact. This morning I awoke to see his face around 6 inches from my face. Of course, as soon as I made the slightest move in his direction, he bolted like a bat out of the blue (My favourite mixed and confused metaphor!(just realised its not even a metaphor)). Other examples have been incidents of foot sniffing and much squeaky meowing. These initial but brief contacts bode well for an eventual lasting detente. I must admit my impending absence from these ongoing exploratory engagements, will not help progress, but I hope that Vicky, deputising for me will have made a significant breakthrough by my return.

Lobby That

Another day another lobby of parliament (ok my second at least) This time it was a TUC (Trades Union Congress) organised lobby campaigning for decent public sector pay rises. There was a bus going from Stoke so it was a really early start for the 3 of us from our branch. I got up at 5am (which apparently is a real time of the day!!) in order so I got there in time for a good seat on the bus. This turned out not to be a problem as only 5 people turned up.

We got down to the rally point at the Central Methodist Hall an hour early, so we sat outside on the grass basking and baking in the sun. London in the sun always has the cliched feel of a film set. I half expected to see a floppy haired Hugh Grant stuttering a declaration of love, or an 80's Bob Hoskings' gangster shouting from his boat on the Thames. All of a sudden we we descended upon by the world's media (ok, Unison's video unit and photographer's from the Press Association). The video guy wanted us to stand behind our placards and act like we were discussing this vital issue while he panned his camera down on us. This is the first time I have ever taken direction, so I relied on a method acting approach and imagined I was a trade union activist, and then remember I actually was! The Press Association snappers then took photographs from as many unflattering angles as possible. I was in 2 minds whether I should smile for the camera, or affect a serious, studied and concerned expression befitting our campaign. In the end I just looked a bit spooked! I did learn one thing from this experience and that is Placards can be quite slimming. They are very useful for hiding ones stomach behind, so from now on I am going to make them a wardrobe staple. I could have a range of colours and slogans to suit the outfit and occasion.

I then indulged myself in some political sparring with a lady from the Socialist Worker mob, who always tag on to any Trade Union event. Although I have a good deal in common with much of their politics, they always seem to lose credibility of argument by going a step too far. Apparently according to this particular Trot, the poor public sector pay was due to the war in Iraq, American imperialism, and the fact that there was soon going to be something called a National Government, which apparently means no more general elections. Some of these views are oddly similar to some of the New World Order paranoia spouted by right wing American matitia survivalist idiots. Strange bedfellows indeed!. Anyway the good natured bantering ended on a sour note when she refered to me as he! Thanks Sister!!

The rally was well attended with even standing room at a premium. After some rousing speeches by various General Secretaries we left for the House of Commons to meet our MPs. Parliament had instigated a fiendish new security measure since our last lobby. Instead of a pink sticker with Visitor and the date scrawled in pen we now had a Yellow scrawled sticker! I'm sure that would fox even the most experienced of terrorist forgers.

The exciting Committe Room 21
Our meeting was in Committee Room 21. I had hoped we could have been in the prosaically named Cabinet Office Briefing Room A, which is more thrillingly acronymed (should be a word! but apparently is not) to COBRA whenever there is a national emergency. Committee Room 21 was tucked away up so many flights of stairs that I feared we would be sitting next to the Big Ben bells. The meeting went well, and we appeared to have support from the attending Labour MPs, who were just as scathing about the government as ourselves. One of our local MPs Mark Fisher was particularly honest and passionate, bemoaning how all the good feeling from the '97 election had been squandered by a government so keen to appeal to big business and the free market, that it had alienated many of its core voters. Looking out of the window across the Thames I spied a hospital development swathed in NHS tarpaulins, as if it was a gift wrapped present for some huge global corporation. Anyway it felt good to be exercising our democratic muscles. Lobby over, and on the long trip home I fell asleep dreaming of storming the Chamber of Parliament, behind a placards declaring Freedom for Stoke, while being pursued by a camera weilding Harold Shand!

women and dogs dot co dot uk

If you don't know what the post title refers to then take a look at the splendid Dave Gorman DVD and book Googlewhack Adventure

Taking advantage of the sadly all to rare recent good weather and the fact that Vicky had a dog 4 days ago we decided to have a good walk. We started in the village of Oakamoor and walked up the wooded valley to The Rambler's Retreat hotel, nestled in a beauty spot called Dimmingsdale. For anyone not from round these here parts this is just a few miles from Alton Towers. Vicky wanted to test out Spartacus (for that is his name) walking off the lead and his reaction to people and other dogs. description Well our wish was granted, the path soon filled with dogs and people of all sizes. Spartacus (I preferred Stimpy as his name) was really well behaved reacting calmly with both species of mammal. Each time he was rewarded with a dog biscuit. At one point Vicky, thinking that he was eating too much decided in her wisdom (Vicky and wisdom are 2 words seldom seen together just like Jenny and salad !) to bite a biscuit in half but only ended up swallowing most of it. One particular encounter was with a small lady and an enormous black and white Great Dane. From even a middling distance this dog bore an uncanny resemblance to a Fressian Cow

.

It was an impossibly quaint walk, but hey I like a bit of quaint

Bemusing Jen

Twas a day of confusions

First thing this morning I visited my Doc for my monthly fix of hormones. She informed me that I am on their target list for a smear test. I guess that's one target that will have to be missed for the moment. Even a resurrected Indianna Jones couldn't discover my cervix! The only smear I could offer would be malign a neighbouring GP. Still its heartening to see that the NHS has so totally accepted me as a female, with a physiology to match, that I guess I don't need the op any more!

End of the day I went into Mattalan in order to buy a chopping board ( and No, I am not thinking of saving the NHS money with a bit of DIY). I just needed a good solid piece of wood. The very young male cashier referred to me as sir, despite my obvious appearance to the contrary. Its been a long time since I was called that in a shop. I corrected the poor boy's mistake, and he grunted an insencere apology. In an act of pointless silent protest I am now going to boycott buying any clothes from them. That is until they finally stock something in my size.

Its no wonder I'm permanently confused

Morning Gory

Well this morning I managed to make a bigger mess of myself than usual.

I had an 9am appointment with my wonderful speech therapist Kate, at the Outpatients of the North Staffs Hospital. Last night I realised as usual I had totally neglected to practice my speech as she had advised. I would have to make time in the morning

Plan A: 6am Wake Up, Have a wee!, Bath, Hair, Breakfast, Makeup, Practice Speech, 8.15 Set off in time to get car parking space, 9am Speech Therapy, and Relax.....In the words of Hannibal Smith "I love it when a plan comes together"

I failed at the third hurdle.

6am alarm went off, Got up, had wee, Fine so far then..Got back in bed for a vital extra 15 mins sleep, 7.46 woke up again, 7.48 finally realised I had overslept, 7.50 finished panicking and got up.

I needed a Plan B: 7.50 Wake Up, Bath, Hair, shortened Breakfast, 8.20 Set off for Hospital, Practice speech while driving. Find parking space in time, Do make up in my car, 9 am Speech Therapy, and Relax...

I rescheduled makeup to the car to save time earlier on. If I got to the hospital a bit later then all the spaces would be taken. Doing my speech practice in the car would be fine and a good use of time management. It would be like doing my homework on the school bus, just with less shaky handwriting!

The first part of plan B went like clockwork. So precisely at 8.20 as planned, I donned some inadequate sunglasses as a futile disguise and left the house otherwise barefaced. At 8.40 I am in traffic practicing my soft H words, and the trying to mimic Sheilagh Foggerty, the nicely voiced Radio 5 news presenter. I felt quite positive about my voice. I was improving. For some reason I looked down at my handbag. I looked a lot emptier than usual. Mmmmmm. The penny dropped slowly. Where was my makeup ? I vainly rummaged with one hand. Nothing. My practiced female voice gave way immediately to a gutteral yell "*********!!!!!". There was no way I could walk into a crowded hospital with absolutely no makeup on. I had been ok dashing to the car unseen, and driving with the sunglasses on, but walking through with blotchy skin and the highly visible shadow from a thorough shaving. Not a pretty sight. I couldn't do it. I couldn't face it with such a face. I had to turn back and retrieve my precious makeup.

I finally got to the hospital at 9.10. I hate being late. Of course there were no parking spaces left, so I risked the wrath of a parking wardens and parked in a consultant only space. I had no time for the full facial slapping on of makeup, so I just used some cover stick over the worst areas, bit of lippy and sunglasses over my unmade and baggy eyes. So I walked through the busy hospital in my sunglasses like a Z list celebrity, trying not to be seen, while trying to be seen! I entered Kate's consulting room, with much huffing and apologising. She smiled kindly, and to her credit did not flinch when I removed my glasses.

I had a good session, and feel like I am making progress. Sadly Kate informed me she is retiring and that I would have a new therapist. Kate has been brilliant in boosting my confidence and I will miss our sessions. I will now have another poor therapist to be a victim of my rambling neurosis.

Gosh, life was simpler, way back when.

It's a Train of Two Halves, Brian

Today I had a trip to Boris’s Kingdom. Two identical Virgin Pendilino Trains, two completely different experiences.

7.53 Stoke to London Euston
This was commuter time writ large. Each carriage heaving with suits, laptops, mobiles and testosterone. I was sat behind a young gun salesman, who conducted a hour long conversation at an extraordinary volume. With that strange strident business speak, full of certainty and confidence and forced metaphor. He behaved as if he was auditioning for The Apprentice. I got more and more engrossed in his half of the conversation. He seemed to be imparting his wealth of experience to a colleague. This colleague had apparently been offered a 75k job and was told in no uncertain words to accept it until something better came along!! I also learned that Mike who covered the Thames Valley sales area, was just treading water and needed to improve sales or he was out, and that the company would be better off without him. Come on Mike get a grip and show him, I thought to myself. If this guy didn’t like Mike, then I decided I should be on Mike’s side. I wouldn't have been surprised if Mike’s enemy had eventually launched into the ABC mantra delivered by Alec Baldwin in the film Glenngary Glen Ross. “Always Be Closing.”
From my impressiopn of him, more appropriate would have been “Aways Be a C***”. I was pleased when the phone call eventually ended and I could get half an hours Power Nap (Oh god I appeared to have learned some business guff by osmosis!)

The train back was a different affair
13.35 London Euston to Stoke-on-Trent

This train was more like the Trans Siberian railroad if half the passengers on that train were on their way to a highland gathering! My coach was full to burst with supporters on their way to Manchester for the Uefa cup final between Rangers and Zenit St Petersberg. As both teams play in the same shade of blue the only way to quickly differentiate was that some of the Russian fans spoke better English!! I ended up sitting amongst an ebullient Russian contingent. I love listening to the strange music of different languages. I listened and watched to see if I could understand the gist of conversations. I failed to grasp anything really. They could just as likely been talking about the price of Vodka as the football. The only words I recognized, was when one of them randomly burst into the Chorus of “Mancunian Way”, a Take That album track. I must admit now they’ve become a man band rather than a boy band I’ve become a latter-day fan of The That!
When one of the older St Petersburgers brushed past me with a “sorry”, I smiled back and tried to engage him in conversation. Unfortunately most fluent English speakers struggle to understand me so these poor souls stood no chance. "Are you excited about tonight" I asked slowly, deliberately but ultimately unhelpfully. I got a shrug back. The international sign of “what the??”. I persisted with my attempts of forging some Stoke/StPetersburg détente. In the end we both settled on the words Uefa, soccer and match and nodded at each other, with smiles that suggested understanding, but really said “this is going nowhere” Still I did feel I had more understanding and more in common with my Russian football supporting friend, than the loudmouth Apprentice apprentice of the morning.

My last attempt at engagement came near the end of my journey as we passed The Brittania Stadium. “Stoke City…Stanley Mathews”, I said and pointed. I even forlornly added “Premier League” My friend to his credit smiled and nodded again, but I think I might have well said “Sausages and Aardvark”. When we hit Stoke station I got up to leave and said grandly “Good luck tonight. I hope you win”. As I turned around I saw rows of Glasgow eyes staring back at me. “Ooops”. I briskly alighted the train.
Must admit if I’d been on a carriage full of supporters of rival English teams, the atmosphere would have been totally different.

Lobby Fodder

Today a bunch of us from our branch treked down to London to join a lobby of Parliament

The lobby was to request our MPs sign up to an Early Day Motion (EDM) that calls for the reinstatement of a Unison activist from Manchester.

Photo : "Silent Nightingales" by Richard Searle
Karen Reissmann was disgracefully sacked for speaking out against cuts to mental health services in Manchester. This is one of the highest profile and blatant cases of Trade Union victimisation that I can recall. The worry for us all is that what Karen said was not essentially different than quotes I have given to our local paper.

(Photo: Control Bae Demonstration)

I got to Westminster before the others. I could see no sign of our rally. So wandering around I manage to briefly join a small demo against Bae Systems. I am a sucker for a good old fashioned lefty, anti capitalist, anti arms trade campaign. Mind you their campaign slogan "Don't sweep the real Bae under the carpet", didn't seem the the most snappy or angry. Anyway figuring that they could hopefully bring Bae to book without me, I resumed my search for our Rally. Eventually my colleagues and others arrived on College Green for the rally and photo ops. Photos snapped we all set off to queue to get into Parliament. It was surprisingly simple to get through security into the Palace of Westminster. All it took was bags through an x ray and a brief feeling up! Good job I no longer have my Rice bag false breasts, as I imagine having to take them out to be examined would be a tad embarrassing. It was interesting that colleagues wearing campaign T Shirts had to take them off, of turn inside out, yet they were happy for me to carry in a camera, PDA and all sort of crap in my handbag. Once checked we were given a high tech detailed Visitors ID pass (a pink sticker with Visitor on). The inside was even more stunning than the outside . We made our way through the bustle to the Disraeli committee room. I am sad enough to have seen these rooms on telly while watching BBC Parliament channel. We had an impassioned meeting, with some of Unison supporting MPs. I did recognise Gerald Kauffman amongst them.

(Photos : That high tec Visitors Pass ; Those offending T Shirts get organised)

(Photo above : I really need some taller colleagues)

We then moved on to the Lobbying. It is a fairly simple, but somewhat haphazard affair. All that you do is ask the immaculately uniformed clerks in the Central Lobby to contact your constituency MP, and if they are free they will come down and meet you. There is a lot of milling around and standing waiting moving from 1 foot to another. My problem was that I didn't know what my MP looked like. So I hung around the desk hoping that they would call out my name on the tannoy when he arrived. This would have worked if the poor quality tannoy, coupled with the cavernous echoy chamber meant that every name sounded the same. In the end one of the other Stoke MPs Mark Fisher came to meet us. A good traditional Labour MP he listened intently to our argument and pledged to sign the EDM

The day over, looking back it had been productive, and good to be participating in democracy. Our political system may have its faults, but I must admit I'm impressed by how accessible our parliament is. I'm not sure this is the case everywhere.

Conference Over and Out

Wednesday

The last day of Conference is always more subdued. Definitely a case of After the Lord Mayor's Show, from the tension of the previous day. I did hear 2 disturbing things earlier though. First, apparently the fire alarm went off in the hotel at 6am, but I heard nothing in my room. That can only mean to me that the hotel is quite prepared to sacrifice the poor 1st floorers, while evacuating those with the more lofty social standing of the higher floors. Secondly Vicky phoned me the night before with a tale of near death at the hands of an Emu! The story went, that while visiting Knowsley Safari Park an Emu went eye to eye with her and actually touched her nose with its "fearsome" beak. While of course Vic is never melodramatic she did use the phrase "It could have taken my face off".
The very dangerous Emu - Avoid eye contact at all cost

Anyway the rest of the day failed to live up to such excitement. There was some important debate, but without any controversy. Even the government minister Ivan Lewis got away fairly unscathed. Unfortunately at a focus group I did end up with the mic and preceded my question with my very poor NHS Agenda for Change joke!

Looking back I had really enjoyed myself even with all my speech stress. It may sound cheesy but I do love my Union. I always meet interesting people from all over the country, and a few made a point of coming over to me, congratulating me on my maiden speech. They really are the most kind, passionate, diverse, inclusive, and friendly bunch of comrades you could ever find.

I had a bit of a tiff with the hotel reception on checking out. When I said I was from room 168, the receptionist looked at the computer and said "Mr Harvey?", I snapped back "I Don't think I look like a Mister!" I got a grudging apology explaining it was just an error.

Conference Day 2

Tuesday

Well I did it. I made my maiden speech to Health Conference. I managed it without falling over the rostrum, forgetting all my words or any other real disasters. Pictured below is the stage for my speech.

It was one of those rare conference days, that was full of tension and excitement. Often at Health Conference everyone is in agreement throughout. Motions are like Turkeys voting against Christmas! or I could imagine "Motion 1 - Conference believes cake is great" and we all vote Yes. However today we had an emergency debate on a three year pay offer. It was a passionate and highly charged debate, with some fantastic speeches. In the end it went to a card vote which was won by 12,000 votes out of nearly 500,000, which is about 2.5 %, in favour of balloting our membership. Anyway after all this excitement, it was the turn of the motion I was due to speak on. I prepared thoroughly by only finishing my speech at 4 am. videoing a run through on my digital camera, and then going to pieces at lunchtime, with me as usual perched in the loos trying desperately not to let tears spread my mascara all over my face.

Sitting in my room now I'm not totally sure what I was in such a tiz about. It wasn't the speaking to such a huge number of people, but I think it was about how would appear on the big screen and how my bloody voice would sound. I imagined that when I heard my voice boom over the mic that I would fall apart. It was the usual gender insecurity stuff! Thing is it went really well, and now I can't wait to speak again! My motion was about Violence and Aggression in the NHS (by the way we are against it!!). I tried to include a joke, but I guess violence just isn't funny. The devil in me wanted to say something outrageous, just to test if anyone was listening. I thought about suggesting that to combat the assaults, we start to arm our nurses! Thankfully sense got the better of me.

Anyway tomorrow is the last day and then back to reality. Whatever that is.

Health Conference Day 1

Monday

I am back in my absurdly tall hotel room after the first day of our conference at Manchester Central Hall. The conference hall was obviously once a railway station. Though thankfully it is no more, else our conference would probably end up as a replacement bus service!

Tomorrow I have my Maiden speech as a Maiden. I am pretty much dreading it. In my usual fashion I am dealing with this by stress by exhibiting displacement behaviour. That is, by doing anything but actually writing my speech, and hoping that if I ignore it, the whole thing will just go away. Although this problem solving method has never worked yet throughout my life, hope still springs eternal and maybe it just might work

Manchester Tarts

Sunday 16.45 pm

I have just arrived in Manchester for our conference. The hotel (The Palace Hotel, once an Insurance Company building) is massive and posher than the usual B&B s we are used to. The room is lovely, mind you I always end up spreading my belongings all over the place!

I am still recovering from last night. Me and Vicky actually went out on a Saturday night. We spent the night at a club called Pink. It was really small so should be called a Clubette! I even managed to get on down (or up) to the dancefloor! With my special blend of swaying and shuffling. Vicky managed to pull an apparently not gay, bus driver and even got asked out by the fabulous drag queen DJ. She is becoming more like Grace from Will & ..... by the day. She is definitely a hit with the Gay community! All I got was a proposition by a neighbour of mine, who seemed oblivious to my negative body language and my rude attempts at totally ignoring him! I didn't recognise him, but he knew which house number I lived at. Very worrying all round! Still it was a great night, with the campest cheesiest music and they even played The Fizz!!

Anyway better have a bath and get ready for tonight's meeting. As a Regional Delegate I am sure there is stuff I should be doing, but at the moment I have no idea what!....

10.30 pm

Just got back from our pre conference Regional meeting. These are usually relatively dull afairs for anyone who isn't a conference bore like me. However, tonights had a surreal air. For some unknown reason, instead of the usual venue of some faceless city hotel, we were in a casino. The first problem was that many of our delegates struggled to find the casino. So I found myself stood outside the casino, asking everyone passing if they were a Unison member. I think I managed to pull in a few more customers for the casino. I felt like a siren luring unwary punters to their doom on the rocks of the roulette tables!.. or something. The second hurdle was then to actually get past reception. Due to complicated gaming rules, anyone not on the delegates list, had to become a member. To do this apparently they had to show a driving license, give a swab for DNA testing, take an immigration citizenship test, pledge allegence to Alex Fergusson and sign away donation rights to at least 3 major organs. Still everyone got in, the meeting went ok and we all stuffed ourselves on a buffet subsidised by Manchesters finest gamblers.

Tomorrow is the 1st day proper of conference. I need to start thinking about my maiden conference speech, which is due for Tuesday afternoon. I am pretty nervous about the whole thing, so in my usual fashion I will bury my head in my pillow, hoping it will all go away.

Went, Went, Went Joseph

Me and Vicky went to see "Joseph and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat" tonight at The Regent Theatre in Hanley. It was Vic's present for my 40th. The Regent is situated in an area signposted as Stoke-on-Trent's "Cultural Quarter". Describing areas as Quarters, I guess is supposed to invoke the spirit of Paris although I doubt anyone could confuse the 2 cities. Unless Paris has a "Slightly depressed, once industrial midlands city" Quarter. Paris may have the greatest art museums in the world, the most exciting architecture in Europe and romance in bucketfuls (not sure a bucket can be romantic). But our Oatcakes are definitely superior to any French Crepe, and we did once manufacture most of Europe's Urinals and toilets. Lets face it if you are desperate enough for a wee, what use is art and romance!

We had a fab night, and the show was even better than I had expected. It featured 3 of the finalists from Any Dream Will Do off the telly. I managed to curb my every urge to sing out loud throughout. This was mainly for Vicky's benefit as she rates my singing as screechy as a tortured cat and as flat as a steamrollered Oatcake. Well, I managed to hold off until at least the encore. The night was a good excuse to get dolled up, although that didn't appear to apply to the rest of the audience, so not only was I the tallest woman there but the most overdressed, so I didn't stand out at all!

Afterwards over a Chicken Dupiaza and Garlic Nan bread (salad if Slimming World are listening) we got onto the subject of my proposed middle name. Vic seemed less than impressed with my proposal of Jennifer Louise Harvey. She seems to favour, with no obvious hint of irony, a middle name of Rapunzel. I think the only fair way is to have a poll. I now have 2 names on the shortlist. Louise and Rapunzel. When I have few more more options, the Poll will be open! Answers on a comment please!

Really Really Small Print : With the precedent as set by Blue Peter's naming of their cat. Jenny Harvey reserves the right to ignore any poll result that will leave her with a ridiculous middle name!

Blue Sky Thinking

According to the Weather Forecast, we were supposed to be knee deep in the next ice age today, with snow drifts up to our waists. Disappointingly we just got a few flurries and mainly just these blue skies with fluffy clouds as seen from my parent's back garden

My day was enlivened by watching the sport of snuffing out the Olympic Torch. Protesting would make a good Olympic event, with competitors hurdling the police barriers, dodging the security cordon and while trailing a banner and carrying a fire extinguisher. I think Britain would stand a good chance of a medal, but I imagine France would win any protesting Gold medal hands down.

Joking aside (please!) it was important that the protests were made about the Chinese oppression of Tibet, and its human rights in general. I am always in awe of those who have the guts and drive to protest, when too often I just watch from the sidelines pontificating

Elected

Yesterday it was Unison's Regional Council AGM at Aston University in Birmingham. I was up for election as an Assistant Regional Conveynor in a shared role with Sue who piped me last time. There was another lady standing against the two of us. We won with 52,000 votes out of 75,000 odd votes to be cast (not that Im counting!). I was so chuffed. I won't bore you with what the role entails, suffice to say that it is one of the most important positions within a region with over 150, 000 members.

I am not good at pushing myself forward, and often need someone to give me a nudge. Its my inherant lack of confidence in how others see me. I know I can do a good job its just that I always have this nagging feeling of illegitemacy and that someone will come along shaking their head saying "not you". Anyway I feel proud to have been elected and I imagine I may be the first Transgendered member of Unison in such a role.

Birmingham Reflecting

I've had the pleasure of a trip down to Birmingham today for a meeting at Unison's regional office. The meeting went well, and mid afternoon i was battling my way back up the motorway. As usual the slower the traffic went the more my mind wandered. I've been a bit of a pain to be around the last week or so (only a week! cries everyone else). I'm not sure how much to attribute to the change in my hormone prescription and how much is just because I can be a miserable introspective, self absorbed (please but in at some point!), neurotic, whinging twonk (and that's on a better day!). To summarise I've just been struggling a bit. Anyhow I need to snap myself out of it. What I could really have done with is a spell in The Total Perspective Vortex (see Douglas Adam's "Life The Universe and Everything") to put me straight about my position in the cosmos. But, as this is a fictional machine dreamt up by a sadly now deceased author I don't think it will happen. Plus, it was probably ruined by Zaphod's ego (This all makes no sense at all if you haven't read the book)

Lacking this technology to sort my head out, I turned to my reliable mood lifter in a mixed CD i entitled "Bouncy" full of some of my happiest and cheesiest tunes. I set about mentally listing the things that were currently bothering me, then dispatching them 1 by 1 with some targeted logic.

1) I am going to be a regional delegate to our National Health Conference in Manchester. This will mean I have to stand up in front of 1,500 delegates to speak for 5 minutes. Now as a Trans Woman this is not the ideal way to blend in not be noticed. I would be nervous enough speaking for the first time at conference, but the thought of trying to get my message across while trying desperately to sound feminine fills me with another level of dread...Right Jen i thunk to myself. It is my responsibility and duty to do this. I will just have to bite the bullet. There is no point trying to hide, so I need to do a good job with the speech, and when the time comes hold my head up, and take my time and not waffle (will be a first!). Anyway if it starts to go badly I will just have to finish with a song!

2) My bloody house. I really need to get to grips with it. Caroline is coming over next week to start sorting the house out to get it on the market. We need to sell up to settle the divorce. With my feeling so down I tend to bury my head in the bedclothes rather than get on. I will also have to look into finding somewhere to rent... Right Jen I thunk again. I am sure I will be happier if I can settle down in my own flat. The house won't get sold by staring at my pillow. The physical effort of clearing it out will be good for me, and it will be nice to see Caz again, so its time to get moving.

3) That He/She thing. Ive probably gone on about this too much already, but when I'm referred to as he or him it's the one thing guaranteed to get me down in an instant. The fact that people don't generally mean it or even know that they have done it makes it worse for me. It just shows how difficult it will be for me to gain the deep seated acceptance I need....Right Jen. There is nothing to be gained from bemoaning the situation or blaming my height weight or voice. I need to change the things I can and accept those I can't. I really need to concentrate better on how I present myself to the world.

Anyway by the time I'd mulled over these 3 pressing issues I realised none of them would need resolving if I didn't concentrate on my driving, and ended up ploughing into the nearest, biggest lorry. Still 3 problems down, only about 30 to go!

Hor-moans

I have recently had a change in my hormones prescription. I picked up my second months dose today. I was on some stuff called Ethinylestradiol. I am now on some different stuff called Estradiol Valerate. They are both forms of the female hormone Estrogen, although I think the former may come from a horse! I was on the horsey version for 18 months. They did seem to suit me, with the only side effects being dodgy brittle nails, and a liking for sugar cubes. Apparently I needed to change them as there was a slightly increased chance of not dying from Thrombosis! Which I guess is fine by me. I do think these new 'mones may be having a greater effect than oldies. Certainly things have improved on the breastial front, and sadly most of my body fat appears to be marching steadily south. My friends have also noticed some mood swings. I now fluctuate between the melancholy of Eeyore and the despair of Marvin the Paranoid Android (Don't talk to me about Life), with just a dose of Captain Caveman mania in between (though I hope a little less hairy!). Lest hope it all levels off before I drive everyone else as mad as me.

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