As bad luck would have it, the moment I started working in a hospital I was suddenly required to attend another for various cringe-inducing (but not life-threatening) procedures. My sympathy with the hysterical patients I occasionally encounter at work has gone through the roof since my unfortunate run-in with the Clementine Churchill Hospital. Continue reading
I’ve always admired the bollocks it takes for guys to go up to girls they don’t know and strike up a conversation. The (outdated) social expectation that it’s a man’s job to make the ‘first move’ must be nerve-wracking. Especially when there’s no drink involved; I’m not a shy person but I need at least two and a half bottles of wine to be confident enough to initiate chat with a complete stranger.
However, being mindful of a guy’s nerves can only take you so far if they start spouting utter shite at you. Continue reading
Existential crisis. Pretty sure I’m having one.
Loughborough university had a ridiculously unbalanced ratio of men to women, roughly 5:1. This was great for sausage watching, obviously. Especially as Loughborough was jam-packed with sportsmen who had honed to perfection every muscle in their bodies except the ones used for thinking with. Consequently, men who looked great but had no chat whatsoever were depressingly commonplace. Continue reading
<Apologies in advance for being an insufferably smug holiday wanker> Continue reading
I like the occasional drink, to put it mildly. My habit has rewarded me with a liver that has the strength of ten men, and the look and feel of a slug when you’ve poured salt over it (I imagine). I justify this naughty habit because I don’t smoke or experiment with any drugs, and I try to exercise regularly/ when I can be bothered. Continue reading
Things I liked about Dublin: