Time is not on my side just now. I feel stuck in an endless game of catch-up with uni work. I am just about finding some time to cook, although the Should-Monster continues to grumble away in my ear about how I ‘should be working’. I’ve baked a little, and am desperately trying to make time to write about it, but for now I can only reflect upon the happiness a slice of home-made chocolate cake with a scoop of vanilla ice-cream can bring to a painfully dull and exhausting day. I didn’t think to take a photo of my chocolate cake and ice cream until after I’d eaten it, so I thought I’d post a photo of the flowers my boyfriend bought me yesterday,and which he presented to me at the doorstep, my hair full of shampoo from the shower I was half way through having when he showed up.
If you have never eaten dinner with a group of medics, may I warn you to expect, should such an occasion arise, discussion of topics including the insertion of catheters, rectal exams and the severity to which the smell of rotting flesh induces retching. Such was my discovery the evening I offered to cook dinner for my boyfriend and his medic friends. Perhaps just as uncomfortable, however, were the occasions when they became conscious of my non-medic presence and attempted to include me in conversation with questions such as ‘Soooo….what do you want to do when you graduate?’, currently a considerably more nausea inducing topic than how badly gangrene smells. I can’t fault them for trying though. Continue reading