Refrigerant notice: Take dog to vet and dig hole for man

Drink like the last

I was offered a glass of coca cola after a long day in the heat wave that has engulfed England for the past few weeks.

Cool it was, especially that it contained ice to lower the temperature of the drink and give it the semblance of refreshing refreshment that I needed.

From the first sip, I noticed the ice was not melting as one would expect, rather, it was as if a new state of water was being synthesised in my glass, somewhere between solid and liquid, small globules of ice presenting a form of gel.

A new state of water

I started asking questions, about the ice as I downed the refreshing cola wondering what could have given the ice such a characteristic I had never observed before.

When I finished the cola, it became evident that this was not ice as I had always known it and perchance I happened on the packaging from whence the ice came, a product it was and the small print read, “Not for human consumption and not good for the dog either” or as I read it, take to the dog to the vet and dig a hole for the man.

Apparently, unbeknownst to my host, an ice pack had been crushed into my drink, the ice pack being colourless rather than having a blue tinge meant we were no wiser about it.

Refrigerant for the cool

Then I was on the Internet to find out what I needed to do, have the nurse perform the Heimlich Manoeuvre by putting his knee into my back, sticking my finger up my throat unhinging the peristaltic stability of what I had ingested or just wait it out.

Thankfully, the refrigerant component of the ice pack was not harmful and did not present a medical emergency of any sort, there was no need to panic and I was not on the verge of the discovery of a new state of gelatinous aqua much as I kept my calm not to be driven to the histrionics of suggesting I was about to be poisoned.

Makes for a good story though because, for my afternoon drink I asked for some refrigerant, what the heat will make you do, the consequences are yet to be imagined. 

Thought Picnic: Chronicling the sudden end of bicycle journeys

Bicycle accidents

In my first year in the Netherlands, I had 5 bicycle accidents. Some were avoidable but only two involved other parties. A tourist had just walked into a cycle path without looking, it was impossible to stop without hitting him.

As I got up, I was both apologetic and angry, though on realising his folly, he was more apologetic and thankfully, not too much damage was done to either of us. Last year, I had a similar accident, the lady coming out a shop just walked onto the cycle path without looking – there was just no way I could avoid her as I knocked her over, all her shopping splayed on the ground, I was not going at a high enough speed to be dismounted.

The worse accident I had wrote off my bicycle, the front forks holding the wheel were so bent backwards there wasn’t much that could be done to repair the bicycle. I was about to turn into a side-street and I did not see the cyclist coming towards me so we collided and that was the end of that journey.

In another case, this man on a scooter was definitely drunk coming round a curve and just came straight for me, that bicycle was completely written off too.

Not nice on ice

A few years ago, as I rode in winter, there was still some snow on the ground and one had to be careful to avoid the slippery icy parts. About 15 metres before my fall, I could already see myself having that accident, I do not know if it was prescience but I got to that bit of ice and probably did 5 metres of traction or lack of it after my bicycle and I were separated. Thankfully, the only thing that was bruised was my dignity and though there were onlookers none came to help.

Since then, I have avoided riding my bicycle in the snow just for the fear of falling and coming a cropper.

Yesterday looked fine enough, it was sunny, and though cold it did not appear to be freezing, so I got on my bicycle for a ride without much of a care about it.

I was just about 250 metres from home when I took a turn I usually take to on the long stretch of road that leads to my block, something I have done hundreds of times before but this time as I took the turn the tyres lost all traction and there I was on the ground, literally in the middle of the road.

They walked on by

I could not think of why I had an accident there as it took the best part of 10 minutes for me to get my bearings back, pick myself up and then get my bicycle. The two people who passed me must have thought I was drunk, but I don’t drink and none even cared to be concerned.

It bothers me because it is very unlikely I would see such a situation and never get involved, it is just not my nature to “Walk on by” but that is the community I live in and I have noticed that striking difference between Amsterdam and even Cologne to the South in Germany.

Having another look at the area, I saw the glistening reflection of what could only have been ice; innocuous and dangerous – it is what is known as black-ice, usually hardly visible on macadamised roads but treacherous at best, if I had fallen in front of a moving vehicle, their brakes would not have helped. That was close.

Fixing the damage

In any case, when I picked up my bicycle, I noticed the rear light had stopped working; probably the filament in the electric bulb had broken, then the handle bars were no more at 90 degrees to the front wheel – there wasn’t much I could do about that then and the carriage at the back of the bicycle had come off just below the back of the seat as if two bolts had been broken off.

As for the damage to my person, I was quite bruised in a couple of places around my legs but my left knee seemed to have bled through my trousers showing two big red patches.

I hobbled slowly to my home, chained up my bicycle and then inspected the bodily harm done. I did have methylated spirit but the big-baby in me could not contemplate the pain so I cleaned the wound with hydrogen peroxide instead.

Then I found myself riffling through my box of dressings, I learnt a lot about dressings a few years ago and now I was spoilt for choice. In the end I applied a silicone film to the wound, then an absorbent dressing and bandaged the knee. It is still a bit painful and I have a bit of a limp but I think I will be fine.

I should be back on my bicycle in a few days, I hope.

My bandaged knee.

Refusing the most expensive coffee

Train in traffic jam

It was just a few minutes past eight this morning as I sent a text message to my colleagues that I was already in Germany but our train had been caught in a traffic jam. Imagine!

Well, it so happened that the border station of Emmerich in Germany had all platforms occupied that our train could not traverse that area towards the first stop – Oberhausen.

It was not till late on Tuesday that I decided I would rather travel by train to Krefeld than car-pool with my young colleagues who had the tendency to floor the accelerator.

Besides, I do not travel well in cars for long distances, dizzy spells and nausea buffet me as the strongest mints are sucked to save me from car-sickness, trains are better for all sorts of reasons.

By the time we got to Oberhausen the train was running 35 minutes late, now, earlier in the journey as a 1^st class passenger, I had been served coffee at my seat, so after so many trilingual excuses for the train delays we were offered a free drink to cool our rising tempers and impatience.

However, we all had to suffer the indignity of going up to queue for the drinks at the bistro showing our tickets as we got “compensated”.

I am growing increasingly annoyed with these seeming favour-driven no-fault gifts masquerading as benign compensation for services we have paid for.

If I had gone for that coffee, I would have acquiesced to having probably the most expensive coffee I have ever had from a paper cup on a train and this cannot be compared to the rates that the international corporate lawyer who shared my cabin would charge for 35 minutes of legal waffle.

Whilst the drink would have been free, it was no deal, rather, it was the situation where you are glibly offered a palliative thing on terms you have had no choice in negotiating.

On any given day, I’ll rather have the service I paid for than the compensation and if you must compensate it should be for the inconvenience I have suffered with my qualified input into the negotiations and an act of genuine contrition, feel some pain and make me happy – just do not patronise me – the coffee can make you sick – Yuk! Yuck!

Always include a number to call

No stop - Go direct

Homeward bound, one needs to rethink this whole pleasure of riding the seeming comfort of the German InterCityExpress (ICE) trains with a stop-over at Duisburg between Amsterdam and Berlin for the direct but less comfortable InterCity (IC) trains.

On my way to Berlin it was just a 20 minute stop-over but on the return, I did not realise the wait would be 73 minutes. So, one has to kill time somehow.

The need to get online is compelling though Duisburg unlike Cologne does not have the DB Lounge facility which First Class passengers can access for free beverages, comfortable seats and Internet access.

The Spartan waiting rooms in Duisburg however do have stickers indicating T-Mobile Hotspots are available for wireless internet connectivity.

I prefer blackberry muffins

I do however, have to travel with my laptop most of the time because I am still blowing raspberries at Blackberries, I prefer to determine when I am online and when I want to be contacted and if I want to be connected rather than having a device that syncopates with my breathing that being alive means one is available.

For years, I have refused to accept business phones, bleepers and alert systems because they unconscionably encroach on your private time as some people might tend to take liberties because of this.

No number? Oh! Bummer

So, to kill time at Duisburg, I put my laptop on, engaged a wireless access point but could not get an IP address, there was something wrong with the service in the station.

Some, one would expect a phone number would appear on the T-Mobile Hotspot sticker, just in case one has enquiries or something goes wrong – Zilch!

You cannot be serious (With McEnroe disdain), how do they get informed of service failure if there is no way to contact them?

It smacks of technological hubris which imagines their systems would never fail such that no one would ever have to call for anything.

The absence of a contact number is to my mind a failure of the service even if it is working and if the station information desk of personnel who never learnt English - that we were communicating with Annoying Sign Language - do not have any information about T-Mobile services in their station, the cretin who came up with this idea is deserving of a payslip without the figures.

73 minutes of being rather cross and suitably not amused, one should learn to, as they say in common parlance – chill.