The Rusty Wire Service hits a century

TRWS proudly publishes its hundredth posting today.

Several thousand words later, the Croppy remains mystified, exasperated, amused, disgusted and optimistic by dangerously bipolar turns.

On such occasions, one often feels obliged to take stock; to see what (if anything) has been achieved by all this sturm und drang and what might be gained from it going forward.

Well, that’s easy; to quote Seasick Steve: “I started out with nuthin and I still got most of it left.”

On a good day I feel like a Jacobite pamphleteer and on the bad ones, I’m flinging pennies at the moon.

But either way, it’s been a helluva lot of fun so far, thanks for reading.

Comments

Down a Rabbit-Hole

Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Seán Flynn. I'm 56 years old and I have been a front-line paramedic with the London Ambulance Service in the East End for the past seven years. It's a job I love and, by and large, it's the happiest I've been in a long and varied working life. I am also an accredited GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association) coach with enhanced DBS clearance; both as a coach and as a registered clinician. I recently travelled to the West Bank in order to coach three teams in the territory under the aegis of GAA Palestine, introducing the children to Gaelic football. I was lucky enough to travel first to South Bethlehem, then to the Al Am'ari Refugee Camp in Ramallah and then on to Qabatya in Jenin. It's important to note at this point however that the individual with whom I was initially due to travel, pulled out on the morning of the trip as the result of a cancelled connecting flight; leaving me to fly out on my own. As a consequ...

Never thought my life would be like this

When I wake up on a work day (it doesn't matter whether it's early or late), I get on station and figure out which truck I'm on; there's a screen in the mess room that shows the fleet number – my truck – beside mine and my crewmate's names and our call-sign for the shift. I go to the key safe, use the appropriate code and take out the keys matching the fleet number (assuming that the keys don't belong to a truck still out on the road). Then I go to the drugs room, using my ID card to gain entrance. Inside, I use a specially allocated smart key to gain access to the drugs lockers to take out my meds for the shift. I then have to separately access another safe to get my morphine ampoules which I have to sign out and have witnessed. I also have to ensure that the numbers between the book and safe tally before closing the safe. So once I have my drugs, I go back to my truck and start to check it over. Engine, and all lights (incl. hazards and blues) on for a wal...

A Deptford Particular

Earlier this month and for the last time, I trained at the Lord Clyde Boxing Gym in Deptford. When it closed, I lost one of my favourite places in all of London. The gym at the ‘Clyde shut its doors after a protracted legal battle that had initially seen the plucky little boozer successfully challenge the developers’ plans. Landlord Rory McInally brought together a wide coalition to oppose the move. But the developers have since hit back and have succeeded in their objections to the gym’s continued use. This was a place where local kids boxed for free, trained and supervised by former professional boxers fer chrissakes. Plans had even been afoot to revive the Cuban-style outdoor gym in the backyard for the Summer months. While we’re not always the biggest fans of the police on these pages we do acknowledge that those officers who have any interest in building community relations have always traditionally recognised the value of local boxing gyms and the ‘Clyde had ...

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