New Year, Same Resolutions as Every Other New Year

The year is 2020. I should be writing that I’m living in a flying car-partment on the moon, or that we’ve achieved world peace or nuclear standoff or are living under cockroach rule. We might not be so far from the nuclear standoff. Instead, I’m trying to get back to work, in my normal non-flying

After The End

It was my last day – and last drugs round – yesterday. My colleagues secretly teamed up to put on a vegan buffet in The Big Cupboard (don’t tell the matron), and gave me flowers and gin and other lovely things. I forgot to take the flowers home as I’d put them in some water

Week… Three? Thursday?

I might have to pay to remove ads from this blog. There was an ad for some kind of magic weight loss which I’d hate to pop up on something I’d written about radical self-acceptance. Urgh. That interview I had last week… I’ve got to the next stage where they’ve asked me to write a

Week Three, Monday

I have 14 shifts left before I leave work. As I’m walking out with no guaranteed income and will be on the nurse bank for the same hospital there’s a good chance I’ll be there quite a lot anyway, but it’s a psychological hurdle. As I’m getting closer to leaving, I’m aware that I may