In Which I Consider Taking Up Drinking

I do not remember ever being so glad for Friday.

In the last “week”, I have:

  • worked twelve days…
  • … and a hundred and thirteen hours (and immediately regretted counting)
  • sneezed, coughed, and generally mucoused my way through it all while FY1s backed slowly away from my germs
  • (re)applied for Core Medical Training
  • done my first LP since the summer
  • led an arrest team
  • fumbled and stuttered my way through acting up as the med reg
  • reached momentous career decisions (fuelled largely by sleep deprivation and caffeine)
  • been made hurt and furious by the nastiness of the bishops of the Scottish Episcopal Church
  • flirted badly with a police officer as my cat took up residence in her hat…
  • … after I had my flat broken into and my stuff taken by someone who is clearly woefully lacking in Christmas spirit


  1. Oh, BETH. I am so sorry.
    I mean, flirting is always nice, every opportunity must be taken, and who doesn’t love a lass or lad in uniform? – but UGH to the rest. And the mucous, which only makes all annoyances MUCH WORSE. I’m sending long-distance hugs and hot chocolate.

  2. On Sunday I shall tell you how to CHILL COMPLETELY. Mind you if you take my advice you will need 24 hours afterwards before your able to take on major responsibilities.

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