Apparently, some of you do actually read this (and have messaged me to say so!). Frankly, I'm amazed. I've often wondered why anyone keeps a blog - there's something just a little bit self indulgent about the whole process don't you think? I'm sure my year 1 PPD tutor would be mega impressed at all the reflective nonsense that goes on here and, dare I say it, ranting can actually be theraputic!
I suppose I had better finish yesterday's entry then eh?
I think I'd just started waffling on about the assessed oral presentation thingy (I could probably just scroll down the page and actually read what I'd written but that feels too much like effort for my liking...) so I'll carry on from there.
I had 2 days to prepare 15 acetates for a 10 minute presentation on a topic of my choosing. This should have been a doddle - I can ad lib for ten minutes on pretty much any topic without pausing for breath but I couldn't come up with a topic that I was sure would fulfil the requirement to demonstrate my worth as a reflective practitioner (seriously!). To summarise, I'd gotten myself into a bit of a pickle (Not a bad phrase, that) and only one thing would save me - yes! I rehashed a presentation I'd given previously and adapted it to fit the marking criteria as defined in the course handbook.
Of course, with a whole day and a half to go, I wouldn't have finished - I had to purchase something to actually print the slides on. Why we couldn't just use PowerPoint, I'll never know - all the bloody rooms in the med school have digital projectors after all!
Long story short, I ended up buying acetates and printing the slides about an hour before I was due to get a train up to Newcastle. This would be fine if I lived next door to the train station and had a fast yet high quality printer for printing acetates and had packed everything I needed for the next day. Those of you whose brains haven't been turned to mush by the Hollyoaks Omnibus might be able to guess where this is going.
I obviously don't live next door to the train station and my printer isn't very fast when I want high quality and no, I hadn't actually packed anything. Not surprisingl, I missed the train by a good 10 minutes.
"Fear not! I can probably drive to York faster than the train and still make my connection", I thought to myself. (Interestingly, I do think with punctuation.) This obviously necessitated getting hold of a car (no, I didn't steal one! I borrowed my sisters) and sat nav. Why sat nav? I here you ask. Well, York is silly with its masses of one way streets and blind, death filled alleys. Maybe they're not death filled, but the whole city confuses the hell out of me. So, sat nav would save the day and deliver me to the station in good time.
Satnav is great! Her sultry voice guided me the right way. Well, she would have done had I chosen to listen to her and not go my own way (which is better, for reference sake) to York. Once in York, of course, I did the gentlemanly thing and listened to what she had to say. Revenge, as they say, comes sweet. Mrs Satnav directed me through some lovely cobbled streets to the very heart of old York. At any other time, I'd be glad of the trip but I had a train to catch and was now stuck in the warren of one way madness that is York. Oh, and it was snowing. The old Y chromosome prevented me from admitting defeat and asking for directions and so, predictably, I arrived at the station much too late to make the connection.
Bugger.
Fifty minutes and £12 later, I'd finally gotten onto a train to Newcastle.
That's not my train. Obviously. Otherwise I'd have been on it and not stood on the platform taking a picture. Duh
Arrival in Newcastle passed off without further incident and I had only to run the gauntlet of Helen's driving before retiring to my old bed in Gateshead. We only hit one fence and stalled long enough to run through one full cycle of traffic lights. Good going, I thought.
The oral presentation itself was ok. I spent my ten minutes explaining how we're not sure what causes minimal change nephrotic syndrome in kids only to have the assessor ask once I'd finished, "So, what causes minimal change nephrotic syndrome in children?". I had to work very hard not to leap across the room and claw off his face while screaming "Were you F@!*&g listening or not!?!". It didn't matter in the end though, because I passed the assessment with two Ms and an S. Go me.
Here endeth the bloggery.