There's a reason I'm not a poet

Pull my finger

I’m starting my first set of night shifts on Monday. Dun dun dunnnn. In my hospital, we cover both medicine and surgery, with a total of around 10 wards. Speaking to others, it sounds like it’s pretty much down to luck as to whether or not it’s good or bad. Regardless, I will be busy, however there’s a difference between being busy and being unhappy- but we’ll see how it goes.

Anyway, last week was a bit more of a stress-free experience: I made the familiar easyjet trip over to uni for graduation round 3. Out of 4, in case you were wondering (and no, I don’t really know why I have so many). Thankfully I managed to meet up with a fair number of uni friends over the weekend (I also squeezed in a London trip to tick a few other faces off) and naturally I ate pretty fantastically while over there (figs with parma ham and honey, whiskey ice cream, burnt cream, a Greek mezze, haggis brunch and the world’s biggest piece of apple crumble).

The actual ceremony itself was exactly the kind of ridiculous pomp that you want: people walking around in robes, carrying sceptres and shouting things in Latin. At one point I think they were running through a list of the new research fellows, and the head honcho guy had to delcare- in Latin obviously- that the appointment pleased him, so essentially a list of names was interspersed with a rageful “PLACET”, making the whole thing sound like he had a very strange form of Tourette’s.

The highlight obviously was walking up yourself. Rather than going up in a queue like in any normal university, we were presented- again in Latin- to the man on a throne while holding onto a sixty-something year old man’s finger. That’s right, four doctors each clutching on tightly to a different digit and waiting their turn to kneel down and swear allegiance to the crown or sell our soul to Mephistopheles or whatever it was we actually agreed to.

But it’s all good craic like, an excuse to meet up with your friends and a reminder that while you’re slugging away doing paperwork there’s some professor somewhere sipping brandy and trying to come up with Latin puns to amuse the guests at their dinner party that evening.

M

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