1 down, 2 to go!

I think that went ok... more common sense questions than any request for factual information, but as I have been frequently told, I have no common sense. Anyway, now I've proved I can come up with five reasons, beyond low income, to explain why a mother cannot provide healthy food for her children, without using the 'she has deeply ingrained psychological issues from her own obesity and feels the need to mold her children to her own body shape. Feeding them healthily would be like suicide' line, or similar bull.

Must go relearn hormones. As if I don't have enough of them already...

15 hours....

First exam tomorrow! For some reason, I'm more scared than I was before January exams! Probably because I know I can pass these, as strange as that sounds. The stress is over whether I can get a decent mark to reflect this year. I want a distinction in at least one module, dammit! A 10 & a 16 do not reflect how I feel this year went!

Chill....

Gonna put my feet up with a new DVD (The Last Kiss), and possibly skim over models of stress.

3 days, and this will all be done with :D

Bedtime!

Urgh. I was rudely awoken by an alarm clock at 6.30am (lots of rude awakenings recently. Don't people have manners? Don't people understand my need for sleep?!). Unfortunately, it was mine.

The MRI centre is 90 mins from my flat, on foot. Uphill. My toes are still bleeding. But I got a nice nap for 20 mins, with a cosy pillow, and some massive retro headphones. Great, aside from the CLUNK CLUNK CLUNK of some gigantic magnet spinning my protons (I think. A level Chem seems a long time ago). Fun, exciting new times anyway.

The other half finished his exams today, and (conditional to results) is now a second year! And promptly rang me to rub it in my face. Lovely man. Possibly our first functional phone call (yes, in over ten months of dating, 70% long distance, this is the first. Don't begrudge us our fights), with no awkward silences, no bickering about talking over each other, and it was a genuine 'I missed you and wanted to hear your voice' call, so aww *cute smushy face*

The 'after-MRI' bit of my day, like post-1030, has been... insignificant. Failed retail therapy - where have all the cool t shirts gone? Slogans, pictures, patterns? I already have a cupboard full of plain tops, dammit! Last time, I resorted to TopMan. My Grr shirt is my new favourite thing, ever.

I did come home with a ton of pick n mix sweets though, most of which got consumed instead of lunch, and left me in a hyperglycaemic haze until dinner. Which was great for my afternoon of anatomy revision. Aclands knowledge can be absorbed through the ears, bypassing the need for the mind to be switched on. My boyfriend agrees. And he's a psychologist, k?

Finally, expect death. All water outlets are being tested for Legionella this month. Suspiciously, 5 of my flatmates now have the early symptoms of Legionnaires.

Oh Library, why do you hurt me so?

I have spent eight hours locked in there already today. Stupid, stupid exams. Stupid, stupid dumb blondes who sat across the room from me all evening and whispered and giggled. How do you like Vanders, eh? Nice, eh? How do you like it shoved in that oversized food hole?

The only thing tougher than revision right now is writing a dumb cover letter for my CV, for a research project that I thought I'd already guaranteed my place on. How many times can you wax lyrical about molecular pathways in one side of A4? I'm aiming for a new world record.

Finally, MRI tomorrow morning. 9am, so no revision time wasted. Except for the fact that said hospital is not on any transport routes that I'm familiar with, and therefore is a 90 minute walk. I do not 7.30am. I like it even less when I'm outside in it.

I live in Halls. Hellhole Halls.

A Saturday fire alarm and a confiscated kitchen item should have been warning enough. Bad things do not come in twos.

Number three arrived at 4am. Grr, already.

Then add smashed windows, intruders, destruction of flat contents, and the calling of police and window-repair-men, and grr does not even partly cover it. Fortunately, it wasn't my flat, but it was 2 floors down, and with single glazing and very thin floors, it sounded like it was in my bedroom. And it was damn scary!

Cue much gossiping the next morning, considering only I and one other girl had the nerve to come out of our rooms to find out what was going on. Drunken psycho's, I believe was the conclusion...

Either way, the Ghetto has certainly told us why it deserves that nickname. Thank goodness for the new flat being in posh-trendy area :D

5'll make you feel alright!

I am so ridiculously sick to the back teeth of '5 things' on Facebook!!! I use FB to catch up with goss from old school mates, stalk people I'd rather not talk to, and keep up to date on who's going out with who. I do not care if you have an empty beer can within arm's reach, and four other boring and ordinary items. Equally, it's not gonna make my day to discover that you have hand picked the 5 most bizarre items in you house to sit next to before filling that quiz out.

And if you can't beat them....

1. A plastic skull - gained using the best of medical communication and informed consent while celebrating the closure of the Union. I also have a yellow pool ball from that evening. The table itself wouldn't fit down the stairs...

2. A wine glass. Empty, obv.

3. Half a billion padded envelopes. I'm trying to save enough to pad my room. Cheaper heating bills....

4. The Anatomy Colouring Book. Cos colouring is the new studying.

5. A stretchy rubber ball that looks like a lion, complete with stretchy tufts of mane. My mother sent it, for stress relief. Erm, thanks.

[If anyone doesn't get the title, I refer you to popular 90's music]

Dumb, Dumber, and Jelly.

All I learnt today is that Lucozade doesn't make good flower water. You'd think that would be obvious from the photosynthesis equation, but I tried anyway.

And, 5 hours after I switched on the computer, plus 2 powercuts which hall staff were less than hasty in dealing with, all I have done is read like 2 years of Michelle Au's blog (I love her cartoons) and try to figure out how to make two pennies into a pair of earrings.

Productive, no. I promise after I make another batch of food for the freezer (since Morrison's stopped making the two veggie ready meals that were providing 90% of my week's sustenance, I'm forcing myself to make curry,and chilli, and pasta bake, to freeze in perfect one person portions), I will go to the library.

Ooh, and put away those freshly laundered tshirts. And alphabetise my DVDs. Maybe watch the end of The Prince And Me (don't judge me - it was a birthday gift, and I happen to like Julia Stiles).

Bleh, procrastination. You may be more fun than Haematology today, but you will bite me on the (sizeable) ass in 11 days when exams start AND I REALISE I KNOW NOTHING.

Btw... the earring thing. Seems you need a drill with a fine bit. And even then I can only find instructions if you hammer the penny flat first, which would ruin the print. Or whatever a coin design is called. Minting? Funky shield thing? Meh.

Ode to Library

Oh library, how I love you,
Hallowed shelves, I need you,
Big long desks, I like you,
To bash my head against.

That place will be the death of me. And seemingly I can cross Poet off my list of 'career options when Medicine doesn't work out'.

How geeky is it that I have a routine set out? Not that I manage a 9am start more than once a week, but high aims and all that mumbo...

9am: my grand entrance. Perfected card swipe, not wasting a second of studying time.
9.02: Find my floor. Find my desk (it has a light! Great for myopic morons like me).
1pm: Depart.

6pm: Re-enter, twice fed.
6.02pm: Grr at all the chatty people who still remain for the afternoon.
7.30pm: Peace.
8pm: Facebook break!
8.15pm: Curse the math geek who does not understand the concept of whispering.
9.30pm: Curse the tannoy system.
9.45pm: Curse the tannoy system (louder)
9.53pm: Depart. Risk life and limb walking alone through the park. No one would dare touch a girl carrying Rang & Dale's Pharmacology!

I am NOT the Michelin man...

Not amused by the weather!!! iGoogle tells me that yesterday was -8C and today was -5C! Getting dressed of a morn now involves: tshirt, light jumper, shirt, jumper, hoodie, coat. And walking boots to deal with the snow/slush/death ice.

HomeTown had even more snow, but at least that melts! Gah!

Vegetarian, ye shall die a painful death

As told to me by a senior colleague the other day.

Ok, so she may have phrased it differently. The gist of it was that all vegetarians are anaemic and protein-deficient and don't have enough Omega-3 and something else. I think I tuned out for a bit.

I'm not the most strict vegetarian you'll ever meet (or meat, geddit? No? Oh...)

I eat my veg, but I hate most types of fruit, and if you take me to Damons, I will be ordering the BBQ ribs. The sauce is so fantastic it makes up for the rubbish meat underneath.

I don't even like the taste of meat any more. It's been five years since I was an omnivore and I don't think I'd go back. I love my Quorn, and my vegeburgers, and nut cutlets and everything.

But Ms "Ye shall burn in hell for your dis-service to the meat industry" has obviously implanted some thoughts in my head.

Meaning that breakfast now includes an Iron and Vitamin C tablet.

I'm also drinking Diet Coke plus antioxidant. Not for its super-drink powers. Just cos it was BOGOF in Tesco and I fancied trying it.

The verdict? No. Diet Coke and green tea were never meant to be in the same drink. Ever.

It does make me feel more healthy from drinking it. Not physically more healthy, obviously. But easing my conscience, like those freaks that think buying a Prius makes them eco-friendly, ignoring their three other cars with a carbon footprint the size of a Yeti. Numpties.

I'm turning into my mother

I swear, the older I get, the more like my mother I become.

Today, I went shopping with my best friend, H. We went round several shoe shops looking at gym trainers (I know, aren't we cool?) and I persuaded her to buy the cheap ones. Not because they were pretty, or a cute colour, or the most functional, but because they were the cheapest.

On the way home, I proceeded to lecture her on the importance of a university degree in getting a decent job, and how jetting off to Malaysia every few months interspersed with bar work was not a productive use of a gap year. I AM TURNING INTO A MONSTER.

I'm not joining my mates at the pub tonight because I want to curl up in front of Holby City with a nice glass of wine and retire early to bed with my new, glossy copy of Lippincott's Biochemistry. How sad. I'm only eighteen, for goodness sake! Just how dull and straight-laced am I gonna be at forty? I should be out getting smashed off my face on illegal drugs and copious amounts of alcopops, and coming home at dawn, yet my favourite social activity is lounging in a coffee shop - any coffee shop, I don't care which - with my oldest jeans and mis-matched socks on, and a fleece that my cat has moulted all over, with a giant mug of caffeine. And coming home in time for tea.

I think I need to act my age a bit more.

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Prince Harry arrived at work yesterday. Not the real one, obviously, but the new junior doctor bears more than a passing resemblance.

All of my female colleagues were admiring this new chap, until they realised that they have sons older than he is. Ha, he's all mine now, ladies. In my dreams, of course. Although at last check, I was the only young, single female in employment there.

It was just a shame that he turned up on the day that I:

a) Hadn't washed my hair
b) Had forgotten to put my contacts in
c) Had only rolled out of bed ten minutes before starting work
d) Was only staying awake through sheer willpower and a caffeine overdose

In summary, I looked like hell. Not to mention that I had a cough that could be heard all over the building, and that was producing blood as well as copious amounts of gunk. A very pleasant image indeed.

In future, I will wake up with enough time to find a clean work shirt, pop socks without ladders and cat-hair-free trousers. I will wash my hair, put my contacts in, and do my make-up. I'll even put on perfume. I'll get to work on time, and SMILE.

I think all those combined will kill my workmates with shock. The only day I ever manage to look half-decent is my day off.

Patients from hell

Sometimes I really want to throw things at our patients. It is not an emergency just because you're going on holiday tomorrow. Threatening me with "I'll go to OutOfHours" doesn't bother me - in fact, I'd love it if you did, cos you'll wait twice as long AND it leaves me with one more appointment to give to somebody who's really ill.

I hate that sweet little old ladies will wait a week for an appointment with cardiac chest pain because they don't want to make a fuss, but a person who works 9-5 will insist on an emergency appointment for their ear infection.

Reunion

It's the school reunion tomorrow night, and I'm not overly convinced that I want to go. Out of the 150 people I went to sixth form with, I think there's only twenty or so that I'd actually like to see again, and out of that twenty, I've seen nineteen of them in the past two weeks.

I have absolutely no desire to stand around making idle chit-chat with people I was never friends with about how hammered they got at the union last week and how little work they've done; nor am I that keen to see any of my old teachers. I'd like to walk in, collect my certificates, and walk out again. But social etiquette will probably prevail, and tomorrow night you'll find me making idle polite small talk with people I have so little feeling towards, I don't even dislike them anymore.

Vanity (or my seemed lack thereof)

I got contacts last week. It's been a dream come true to be able to wear sunglasses. I haven't worn sunglasses since I was five (I'm now eighteen), but I seriously doubt that Minnie Mouse frames are in vogue anymore, so I think shopping is due.

Although the novelty of being spectacle-free is wearing off sharpish. It's got something to do with the time it takes to go through the whole routine: wash hands, rinse lenses, rinse case, pull eyelid up, pull other eyelid down, place lens on eye, blink rapidly at dust in eye, retrieve lens from cheek/sink/floor, rinse lens, try again. Then repeat on the other side until eyesight becomes equal.

It doesn't help that I collected a new lens on Saturday, with a different prescription to compensate for my eyes being a weird shape (my optician's words, not mine) and I think I may have forgotten to wash the solution off properly. Suffice to say I was curled up on the bathroom floor wimpering like a girl, while trying to claw the lens back out of my now extremely red and slightly puffy eye.

Maybe my glasses weren't so bad, after all.