Stupid Luck and Happenstance, Thread II
- Thread starter Peabody-Martini
- Start date
Great Britain and France would like to have a word with you along with the Netherlands.
The National Health Service in Great Britain with it needs for more doctors and nurses has been increasing the amount of foreign born medical personnel to meet the needs, I just read an article on quora.com where there is more than a few older white British people have problems in accepting treatment from what they call (insert derogatory name) brown skin doctors and only will follow the advice of white doctors no how much better the other doctor is.
The same thing is happening in France where they are getting more doctors and nurses from their former colonies.
But in fairness to you the studies I have read has been mostly about the United States and from personal experience when I had to take care of my parents when they started getting older and had more and more medical problems.
My father would only want to be treated by white male doctors and would call women and POC doctors "Affirmative Action" doctors and not "Real" doctors but his health plan have him limited amount of choices, ironically the white male doctor that he liked turned out to be a criminal by running a pill mill on the side.
And I missed the point again.
I don't mean now.
In the sixties, in Europe there were very few immigrants from outside of Europe (a big war some 20 years ago might have played a part), even in countries that had (well, have, ITTL) colonies. I don't mean there weren't any at all, but that the percentage would be under 1%.
Again, OTL Britain would wish to take issue with that.
There thriving Chinese communities in the UK that go back nearly 200 years, and from the 50's onwards a lot of Caribbean and Asian immigration too.
Pretty much each group has brought fundamental benefits with them, probably the lowest profile but highest spread impact have been late night local shops and the increase in 24 hour taxis, both of which are taken for granted now, but wouldn't be here without immigration.
ITTL Britain wasn't hit as hard by WWII so the need for immigration is much lower. The Chinese communities predate the POD so I'd expect those to survive the POD.
Afro-Caribbean immigration started with "Windrush" in 1948, but significant numbers of Britons of Caribbean extraction weren't present until the mid 1960s when mechanisation meant there essentially weren't jobs for a whole generation of young people. African and Asian migration also really only took off post independence. Loyal servants of the colonial regime sometimes felt it expedient to leave, ethnic and religious minorities felt uncomfortable under some of the successor regimes, Nkrumah in Ghana proved to be an incompetent with megalomaniac tendencies; there was a civil war in Nigeria; falling prices of tropical commodities and produce made migration more economically attractive.
Also, as stated above, TTL Britain won't have lost as many people 1939-45 or have a Cold War defence establishment to keep up so there will be fewer manpower shortages and less initial demand for immigrant labour. And independence is coming more slowly with more structural and economic development first. So migration and ethnic minority patterns are likely to be hugely different. No British Poles post WW2 TTL either.
You are absolutely right and you do have exercise some care, even if it's just reading the labels however I place an additional level of requirements on a medical professional because of their position of trust and (hopefully) wider range of knowledge about medicinal and pharmaceutical effects. If Joe Bloggs in the next cubicle recommends a homeopathic or herbal remedy I will treat it somewhat differently than if my family doctor does the same. At the end of the day it comes down to the trust relationship we have with our doctors and their responsibility to keep us informed about their evaluation of our health.
Anyways I have it off my chest, so sorry for any derail.
Part 96, Chapter 1522
Chapter One Thousand Five Hundred Twenty-Two
18th November 1962
Tempelhof, Berlin
“I know you’ve been seeing that Fischer girl again on the sly” Ben’s father had said a few days earlier, “I know that your mother doesn’t like her because she thinks that she is secretive, having her over for lunch on Sunday afternoon might help with that somewhat.”
It had taken a considerable amount of effort on Ben’s part to get Kiki to agree to it, but she had shown up this afternoon. Unfortunately for Ben, Kiki had hardly dressed in a manner which would impress anyone, much less his mother. Well-worn winter clothing that looked like it may have belonged to a Russian peasant right down to pendent that proclaimed that she was of the Orthodox Church. When Ben’s mother had asked if that was an affectation Kiki had said that it was a gift from her own mother and switched to Russian, which she was fluent in. That had ended that conversation in a hurry. It had long been contended by Ben’s mother that Kiki was the daughter of the stereotypical Russian exiles, arriving in Berlin broke and sponging off relatives who were not left destitute by the revolution. Stalin’s regime may have been overthrown but they were still not welcome to return to Russia and that spoke volumes. The worst part was that not only was there a great deal of truth in that, but Kiki seemed to enjoy winding up Ben’s mother by doing things like this.
Not that the conversation over lunch went much better.
Finding out that Kiki had been in Korea with the FSR had not sat well either of Ben’s parents. When Kiki had told them the story about how she had been sent home a couple weeks early because of the incident where she had been leading the team that had plucked Ben and Wim from enemy held territory it had really caused a conflagration. Ben had neglected to tell them how his plane had eaten a missile over the Yalu River. What exactly had they thought he was doing over there? The result was that Ben’s parents were in his father’s study having an argument while trying to keep it quiet so that no one knew about it while Kiki and Ben watched television on the sofa in the parlor.
“It’s ironic” Ben said, “You wore that ridiculous dress just to get at my mother, but it does work for you.”
“Would you say that if I was wearing a burlap sack?” Kiki asked in reply, “And I didn’t wear this to needle Nadine. It happened to be the only clean dress that I had available this morning.”
Ben just shrugged in response. He had a feeling that his mother would never accept such an innocent explanation.
On television the news segment switched to an interview segment which featured Kiki’s sisters talking about their upcoming eighteenth birthday. The two of them were putting on the usual bubbly show that they always did before the press.
“While it is good that they are getting along, they really shouldn’t play these games with the press” Kiki said.
“What are you talking about?” Ben asked.
Kiki pointed at television which was doing a close up on Victoria’s face according to the caption at the bottom of the screen. “That’s Rea” She said.
Ben looked at the television and saw that both Victoria and Marie were sitting there. He couldn’t tell the difference between them to save his life. “You can tell the difference between them?” He asked.
“While both of them have different mannerisms and carry themselves differently, twin swapping has always been one of their stupid games because they really are physically identical. In this case though, it is what they are saying that is giving them away” Kiki said, “You have them pretending to be each other while throwing in subtle digs against the other at the same time. Vicky talking about pointless rebellion and Rea mentioning love of the status quo is just more of that.”
Ben had no response to that. He was an only child, so he had a hard time imagining what it must be like for Kiki, having six brothers and sisters. At the same time, he knew that Kiki hated the public aspect of being in her family. She never did interviews, make public appearances or even make the slightest effort at being a Princess. The result was that very few people knew what she actually looked like. Frequently, people had a mental picture in their minds of Kiki as a twelve-year-old girl and didn’t recognize her as a young woman.
“Charlotte asked if you want to come along for the Christmas Holiday” Kiki said, “You would be sharing quarters with my brothers at the Hohenzollern Castle, that is not for the faint of heart.”
“That’s also your birthday, isn’t it?” Ben asked, “On Christmas day, non-Orthodox Christmas anyway?”
“Yes” Kiki replied ignoring that last part, “I’m not looking forward to that. Zella and Aurora have other things going on this year, so I’ll have my wonderful family for company. Getting teased by my older brothers, the stupid games the twins play.”
“Didn’t you say that you have been closer to Louis Junior lately?” Ben asked.
“He’s been trying to get into an expedition to the South Pole” Kiki replied, “I don’t know where he’ll be.”
18th November 1962
Tempelhof, Berlin
“I know you’ve been seeing that Fischer girl again on the sly” Ben’s father had said a few days earlier, “I know that your mother doesn’t like her because she thinks that she is secretive, having her over for lunch on Sunday afternoon might help with that somewhat.”
It had taken a considerable amount of effort on Ben’s part to get Kiki to agree to it, but she had shown up this afternoon. Unfortunately for Ben, Kiki had hardly dressed in a manner which would impress anyone, much less his mother. Well-worn winter clothing that looked like it may have belonged to a Russian peasant right down to pendent that proclaimed that she was of the Orthodox Church. When Ben’s mother had asked if that was an affectation Kiki had said that it was a gift from her own mother and switched to Russian, which she was fluent in. That had ended that conversation in a hurry. It had long been contended by Ben’s mother that Kiki was the daughter of the stereotypical Russian exiles, arriving in Berlin broke and sponging off relatives who were not left destitute by the revolution. Stalin’s regime may have been overthrown but they were still not welcome to return to Russia and that spoke volumes. The worst part was that not only was there a great deal of truth in that, but Kiki seemed to enjoy winding up Ben’s mother by doing things like this.
Not that the conversation over lunch went much better.
Finding out that Kiki had been in Korea with the FSR had not sat well either of Ben’s parents. When Kiki had told them the story about how she had been sent home a couple weeks early because of the incident where she had been leading the team that had plucked Ben and Wim from enemy held territory it had really caused a conflagration. Ben had neglected to tell them how his plane had eaten a missile over the Yalu River. What exactly had they thought he was doing over there? The result was that Ben’s parents were in his father’s study having an argument while trying to keep it quiet so that no one knew about it while Kiki and Ben watched television on the sofa in the parlor.
“It’s ironic” Ben said, “You wore that ridiculous dress just to get at my mother, but it does work for you.”
“Would you say that if I was wearing a burlap sack?” Kiki asked in reply, “And I didn’t wear this to needle Nadine. It happened to be the only clean dress that I had available this morning.”
Ben just shrugged in response. He had a feeling that his mother would never accept such an innocent explanation.
On television the news segment switched to an interview segment which featured Kiki’s sisters talking about their upcoming eighteenth birthday. The two of them were putting on the usual bubbly show that they always did before the press.
“While it is good that they are getting along, they really shouldn’t play these games with the press” Kiki said.
“What are you talking about?” Ben asked.
Kiki pointed at television which was doing a close up on Victoria’s face according to the caption at the bottom of the screen. “That’s Rea” She said.
Ben looked at the television and saw that both Victoria and Marie were sitting there. He couldn’t tell the difference between them to save his life. “You can tell the difference between them?” He asked.
“While both of them have different mannerisms and carry themselves differently, twin swapping has always been one of their stupid games because they really are physically identical. In this case though, it is what they are saying that is giving them away” Kiki said, “You have them pretending to be each other while throwing in subtle digs against the other at the same time. Vicky talking about pointless rebellion and Rea mentioning love of the status quo is just more of that.”
Ben had no response to that. He was an only child, so he had a hard time imagining what it must be like for Kiki, having six brothers and sisters. At the same time, he knew that Kiki hated the public aspect of being in her family. She never did interviews, make public appearances or even make the slightest effort at being a Princess. The result was that very few people knew what she actually looked like. Frequently, people had a mental picture in their minds of Kiki as a twelve-year-old girl and didn’t recognize her as a young woman.
“Charlotte asked if you want to come along for the Christmas Holiday” Kiki said, “You would be sharing quarters with my brothers at the Hohenzollern Castle, that is not for the faint of heart.”
“That’s also your birthday, isn’t it?” Ben asked, “On Christmas day, non-Orthodox Christmas anyway?”
“Yes” Kiki replied ignoring that last part, “I’m not looking forward to that. Zella and Aurora have other things going on this year, so I’ll have my wonderful family for company. Getting teased by my older brothers, the stupid games the twins play.”
“Didn’t you say that you have been closer to Louis Junior lately?” Ben asked.
“He’s been trying to get into an expedition to the South Pole” Kiki replied, “I don’t know where he’ll be.”
Which is the more spectacular reveal for Kiki on this clueless but slightly less malicious version of Margot Blackwood? Kiki in full dress uniform with honors or in the most spectacularly elegant Princess wardrobe possible?
I’m thinking the former with a guard or other person addressing her as von Pruessen in either setting could do the trick. That or a thank you note written on royal stationary.
I’m thinking the former with a guard or other person addressing her as von Pruessen in either setting could do the trick. That or a thank you note written on royal stationary.
That, or a sudden entry of 1st Foot Guards or worse, KSK Soldiers, sent by Kat. The Reasoning of said Soldiers breaking the secrecy of Kiki, that someone DID cross the line amongst the Jacobines and realized a magnicide attempt, or worse, a successful magnicide against one of Kiki's older siblings.
I wouldn't compare her to Margot. Nadine Hirsch believes, correctly, that Kiki is being less than forthcoming about who she is. At the same time Berlin has played host to tens of thousands of political and economic refugees from Russia over the previous decades which dovetails neatly with who Kiki seems to be.
I am still holding out hope for the revolutionaries to give Ben the opportunity to do something suitabley heroic for Kiki to make him an acceptable partner for her in the eyes of the public.
His ace and war hero status go a long way, but he is still a commoner. Maybe that interest in spaceflight he had as a child might also come back into play.
His ace and war hero status go a long way, but he is still a commoner. Maybe that interest in spaceflight he had as a child might also come back into play.
Ahhh, the Christmas family photo.
This year including Princess Kristina's "Close Freind" the famous Luftwaffe ace, Ben "Black Knight" Hirsch. The press will love that.
Nadine Hirsch will have kittens.
I thought that Ben's father knew that Kiki is really the daughter of the Kaiser, I can see Ben's mother not knowing.
I can't see how Ben's parents did not know how much of a hero Ben is as his exploits should have been played up by the press and especially by the Luftwaffe to sell the war to a wary German public.
His getting shot down and rescue by the FSR should have been front page news and Ben's parents should have been informed about it by the Luftwaffe before it hit the press.
The Imperial Press Information Office fell down on the job by not making sure that Rea and Vicky were correctly identified.
I wonder if the Russian Emigrant Community is split along those who fled Russia immediately after the Bolshevik Revolution and are better educated and more prosperous then those Russians who couldn't go back after ITTL Second World War, the closet thing I can think of is the situation with IOTL Cuban refugees in South Florida is those who fled Cuba after Castro came to power were better educated and came from the Middle Class or higher and tender to be more conservative and voted Republican as compared to the Cuban refugees from the Murial Boatlift who were poorer and less educated and tended to vote Democratic.
I can't see how Ben's parents did not know how much of a hero Ben is as his exploits should have been played up by the press and especially by the Luftwaffe to sell the war to a wary German public.
His getting shot down and rescue by the FSR should have been front page news and Ben's parents should have been informed about it by the Luftwaffe before it hit the press.
The Imperial Press Information Office fell down on the job by not making sure that Rea and Vicky were correctly identified.
I wonder if the Russian Emigrant Community is split along those who fled Russia immediately after the Bolshevik Revolution and are better educated and more prosperous then those Russians who couldn't go back after ITTL Second World War, the closet thing I can think of is the situation with IOTL Cuban refugees in South Florida is those who fled Cuba after Castro came to power were better educated and came from the Middle Class or higher and tender to be more conservative and voted Republican as compared to the Cuban refugees from the Murial Boatlift who were poorer and less educated and tended to vote Democratic.
Kiki, Kiki, 'breaking up' works differently.....
And yes, the imperial family descends now from russian emigrants of the highest social order by Kiras mariage to Louis.
And yes, the imperial family descends now from russian emigrants of the highest social order by Kiras mariage to Louis.
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I can already see the photo...many of them wearing uniform replete with gold braid and medals, looking suitably stern and imperial. For the press. Nobody will tell about the crown prince vs. The Twins vs. The Princess and the Black Knight. Poor Emperor Lou.
If a pair of identical twins wants to gaslight you on that issue, the only people who will cotton on are parents (or substitue parents) or siblings. Speaking from experience (no I don't have a twin, but I made an unfortunate bet there) here. So if the twins want to spoof the Press Office, the press office will be spoofed (unless they want to monitor every single step they take - including bathroom breaks).
Part 96, Chapter 1523
Chapter One Thousand Five Hundred Twenty-Three
3rd December 1962
Tempelhof, Berlin
It was with considerable dismay that Ilse saw on the news that once again there was a severe smog alert in London. She had seen this all happen years earlier and it had killed their King that time. Those who fail to remember the lessons of history are doomed to repeat them, those who remember the lessons of history are frequently forced to watch as the same stupid mistakes get made again and again. Ilse had no idea where she had seen that, but it certainly applied in this instance. It was not helped by her Department’s stodgy reputation. For her, the observations played out over decades with her frequently having to delve into dusty archives to find centuries old data. It also seemed as if every time Ilse published anything, she managed to make powerful enemies who were not thrilled with the conclusions that she tended to reach.
Always in the back of Ilse’s mind was the knowledge that her work in atmospheric pollution had continued with her father-in-law continuing to give the University grants to allow her to work unimpeded. Ilse was aware that the Graf was able to get a considerable tax write-off by giving money that way, still it was for a good cause from her perspective. Recently a grant from a second donor had been given to the Environmental Studies Department had enabled them to start using computer modeling now and that made things a bit more exciting than actually going out into the field and collecting samples of water. Fieldwork obviously lacked the cache of computers, but Ilse could live with it. What did bother Ilse was that she had no idea who the second patron was, just that they obviously had incredibly deep pockets. The University was pleased as punch with her for probably the first time in her career. While the State provided the funding the keep the lights on, it was donations like that which increased the visibility and prestige of the Humboldt Campus.
At home, Albrecht was back. He had said that his ship, the SMS Voss had completed her last cruise and was to be stricken from the Fleet Registry. He had said that in the shipyards of Kiel, the keel of the SMS Ersatz Voss had already been laid down not far from where her aging ancestor was being disassembled and sent to the foundries bit by bit. When the new SMS Voss steamed out of Kiel in a couple years it would be silly to think that he would still be the Director of Flight Operations. He had told Ilse that he had been assigned to be a Staff Officer at the offices of the Fleet Air Command within the Naval High Command and that would keep him in Berlin until Ilse grew tired of having him around all the time. If Albrecht went back to Sea, it would be as the Executive Officer aboard one of the Carriers that was in active service. Or he could go back to the Space Program. The way that Albrecht had said that last part had let Ilse know that was what he really wanted. Being the XO aboard a ship might mean that he was gone for a year or more. Ilse could handle that because she would know that he was still alive. The Space Program seemed to be a lethal trap for those who were brave or foolish enough to get involved with it.
Washington D.C.
The Christmas Season was upon the National Capital but looking through the bulletproof glass that made up the windows of the Oval Office, President Harriman didn’t feel a great deal of Holiday cheer. A month earlier the voters had gone to the polls and the fissures in the Democratic Party that had been evident in the final process of the contested Presidential election two years earlier had been full display. This year the electorate had split not along political but along geographical lines with political independents having their largest gains in decades. Recently one of the late night television shows had joked that the 1962 Election had split the nation between those who felt that bigotry was as American as apple pie and those who were starting to think that the United States would have been better off without the South to begin with.
And into this buzz saw had stepped Harriman himself. In order to get the support of the Southern wing of the Democratic Party he had needed to make certain promises about what he would and would not do while in office. That bit of horse trading had cost him dearly in the long run. It had all come to a head when the Voting Rights Act had reached his desk, the South was largely unanimous in their opposition and Harriman had vetoed the damned thing only to watch as Richard Nixon, a Junior Senator who he had not thought much of had led the successful effort to override that veto. It was an effort that had elevated Nixon even as it had diminished Harriman. Now as the President, he was having to deal with a furious South who didn’t seem to understand that he was a President, not a King presiding over an autocracy. And several of their own people had voted for the override making Harriman’s task that much more difficult. Nixon had skated off to sunnier climes.
In the end, Nixon was now the Governor Elect of California and Harriman was left holding the bag. What the Hell was Harriman supposed to make of that?
3rd December 1962
Tempelhof, Berlin
It was with considerable dismay that Ilse saw on the news that once again there was a severe smog alert in London. She had seen this all happen years earlier and it had killed their King that time. Those who fail to remember the lessons of history are doomed to repeat them, those who remember the lessons of history are frequently forced to watch as the same stupid mistakes get made again and again. Ilse had no idea where she had seen that, but it certainly applied in this instance. It was not helped by her Department’s stodgy reputation. For her, the observations played out over decades with her frequently having to delve into dusty archives to find centuries old data. It also seemed as if every time Ilse published anything, she managed to make powerful enemies who were not thrilled with the conclusions that she tended to reach.
Always in the back of Ilse’s mind was the knowledge that her work in atmospheric pollution had continued with her father-in-law continuing to give the University grants to allow her to work unimpeded. Ilse was aware that the Graf was able to get a considerable tax write-off by giving money that way, still it was for a good cause from her perspective. Recently a grant from a second donor had been given to the Environmental Studies Department had enabled them to start using computer modeling now and that made things a bit more exciting than actually going out into the field and collecting samples of water. Fieldwork obviously lacked the cache of computers, but Ilse could live with it. What did bother Ilse was that she had no idea who the second patron was, just that they obviously had incredibly deep pockets. The University was pleased as punch with her for probably the first time in her career. While the State provided the funding the keep the lights on, it was donations like that which increased the visibility and prestige of the Humboldt Campus.
At home, Albrecht was back. He had said that his ship, the SMS Voss had completed her last cruise and was to be stricken from the Fleet Registry. He had said that in the shipyards of Kiel, the keel of the SMS Ersatz Voss had already been laid down not far from where her aging ancestor was being disassembled and sent to the foundries bit by bit. When the new SMS Voss steamed out of Kiel in a couple years it would be silly to think that he would still be the Director of Flight Operations. He had told Ilse that he had been assigned to be a Staff Officer at the offices of the Fleet Air Command within the Naval High Command and that would keep him in Berlin until Ilse grew tired of having him around all the time. If Albrecht went back to Sea, it would be as the Executive Officer aboard one of the Carriers that was in active service. Or he could go back to the Space Program. The way that Albrecht had said that last part had let Ilse know that was what he really wanted. Being the XO aboard a ship might mean that he was gone for a year or more. Ilse could handle that because she would know that he was still alive. The Space Program seemed to be a lethal trap for those who were brave or foolish enough to get involved with it.
Washington D.C.
The Christmas Season was upon the National Capital but looking through the bulletproof glass that made up the windows of the Oval Office, President Harriman didn’t feel a great deal of Holiday cheer. A month earlier the voters had gone to the polls and the fissures in the Democratic Party that had been evident in the final process of the contested Presidential election two years earlier had been full display. This year the electorate had split not along political but along geographical lines with political independents having their largest gains in decades. Recently one of the late night television shows had joked that the 1962 Election had split the nation between those who felt that bigotry was as American as apple pie and those who were starting to think that the United States would have been better off without the South to begin with.
And into this buzz saw had stepped Harriman himself. In order to get the support of the Southern wing of the Democratic Party he had needed to make certain promises about what he would and would not do while in office. That bit of horse trading had cost him dearly in the long run. It had all come to a head when the Voting Rights Act had reached his desk, the South was largely unanimous in their opposition and Harriman had vetoed the damned thing only to watch as Richard Nixon, a Junior Senator who he had not thought much of had led the successful effort to override that veto. It was an effort that had elevated Nixon even as it had diminished Harriman. Now as the President, he was having to deal with a furious South who didn’t seem to understand that he was a President, not a King presiding over an autocracy. And several of their own people had voted for the override making Harriman’s task that much more difficult. Nixon had skated off to sunnier climes.
In the end, Nixon was now the Governor Elect of California and Harriman was left holding the bag. What the Hell was Harriman supposed to make of that?
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