Today
Today, following a chat with my daughter I found myself reading articles about "Throwback Sexism" which encompassed stories about prestigious awards refused because of the demeaning ceremonies surrounding them, is Hello Kitty throwback sexist? and the ongoing debate about Bunny Girls.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-5124323/University-Bradford-rejects-award-sexist-ceremony.html?ITO=1490
One of the problems about protesting is that you can be accused of having no sense of humour: "It's just a bit of harmless fun", or being over-sensitive.
In My Day
One of my colleagues at the Tax Office in Lewes back in about 1976 was a man called Geoff Bridger. He was a small, aggressively macho man with a penchant for shooting small animals. He was an enthusiastic member of the TA and would occasionally accidentally-on-purpose find that he had bullets in his pocket.
One year in January he pranced into the office with a full-on naked female "girlie" calendar and hung it on the wall behind his desk. Most of the women didn't find it too funny, but few had the temerity to complain to management, fearing that they would be labelled over-sensitive and easily offended. Those that did found that management had no will to intervene. So the nasty object stayed on the wall.
In those days I was a regular reader of Cosmopolitan and they often featured male naked centrefolds, usually of well-known celebrities with hot bodies. I discovered that they were also doing a male nude calendar that year. I ordered this and hung it on the wall behind my desk. Cue a massive protest by the male staff, led by Geoff. I was asked to remove the item, which I agreed to do if the opposite number was also removed, which it was. I wasn't in the slightest bit interested in the male nudes, but I'd made my point, none too subtly. Interestingly, nobody seemed to suggest that the men were being over-sensitive or lacking a sense of humour.
What still puzzles me is why anyone would want to be served by women dressed as rodents, as well as why any right-minded woman would agree to dress up as one.
Today
A short while ago my niece posted a link to the blood transfusion website. "Save Lives!" it announced.
https://www.blood.co.uk/
In My Day
Probably in common with many people, I once thought that donated blood was rushed to trauma sites and hospitals to be pumped into accident and war victims to save their lives in a dramatic way. My mother-in-law used to tell tales of giving blood during the war when every ounce counted. And I was familiar with Hancock's Blood Donor sketch:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i9nCqSYeAVY
But I don't think I really applied any of this to myself. That was until I was working for the Inland Revenue at Barrington Road in Worthing. This was a large office complex with about 2000 employees. So the blood transfusion people came to us. Along with my colleagues, I signed up and trotted along. After all, as well as doing a Good Thing, I was having half an hour off work with a cuppa thrown in.
Alas! They turned me down as this was less than six months after Becky was born and I apparently needed all my strength.
But I went the next time and gave my fifteen fluid ounces with no ill-effects. I discovered that my blood is O+, so I'm not quite a universal donor, although any + blood-types can have my blood. I also discovered that full blood doesn't keep very well and much of the donated blood is centrifuged to give plasma which does keep and is used for many things.
After that I went many times and became quite an old-hand. On one occasion I was specially called by the service and asked if I would participate is a training programme. I went to the Cavendish Hotel in Eastbourne and was used as a guinea-pig by trainee technicians. What gave them the most difficulty was doing the prick test. Once they'd painfully jabbed my thumb, they would then stare at the drop until it coagulated and couldn't been used, so it had to be done again, and again...
I did have a better quality of biscuit to go with my tea, though.
Another time the whole family went down to the council chamber in Shepton Mallet where the donation service had been set up. The technician made a mess of removing Lizzie's tube and her vital red fluid gushed out onto the nice carpet of the council chamber. There was a moment's horrified gawping before a doctor galloped up and sealed the wound.
Nowadays, they do, indeed, give you a little medal after so many donations and "I saved a life" stickers. But nobody goes for those reasons and we proudly give our blood with no thought of a reward.
Ah, well! I'm too old these days, needing once again, it seems, to keep up my strength. I don't know how many lives I've saved, but I'll know who to thank should I ever need a top-up.
Today, following a chat with my daughter I found myself reading articles about "Throwback Sexism" which encompassed stories about prestigious awards refused because of the demeaning ceremonies surrounding them, is Hello Kitty throwback sexist? and the ongoing debate about Bunny Girls.
