A question

How in the name of God does someone hold down a full-time job and find time for anything else? I've started a new job, and in that time, it's taken me TWO weeks to churn out two posts about Pride.

It's been three weeks since my pharmacy placement began, the monday after Pride weekend. It would be no small exaggeration to say that I was nervous. Last summer's placement, the one I walked out of after only three weeks, would have been considered a disaster by any one's standards, and as it was my first proper job working in a dispensary, more than a little disheartening. What if this one also went pear-tarte-tatin?

Luckily it hasn't. The first two days I was in there, it was a locum, and not the pharmacist I had been assigned to for the four weeks. This gave me a chance to get a feel for the place without the obligation of making a first impression, or at least making one that wouldn't stay with me for the rest of my time there. By the time the main pharmacist arrived on Wednesday, I was reasonably confident about what I was doing (and, it has to be said, had learned more in those two days than I had in the three weeks I was in Lloyds last summer). This buoyed me up a bit, especially since the pharmacist said on more than one occasion that I was doing very well.

The placement is coming to and end this week, and it's gone reasonably well. I don't want to work in community pharmacy really, but hopefully this will give me an edge when I'm applying to hospitals. I've pretty much nailed dispensing, can do some basic recommendations for over-the-counter stuff, and also have been involved in the needle exchange scheme we're running, along with methadone dispensing. Methadone users are supposed to be high maintenance, but I haven't really seen much evidence of that yet, and it adds a bit of variety to the customer base.

This day week is my repeat exam in college, and I also have to move into a new place for the coming year. Thankfully, it's in a reasonably interesting area of Brighton this time, and is pretty convenient to the city centre and college. Combining the two events is of course going to be a barrel of laughs. I'm trying to get someone to take my current room for the month of September, the last month of the lease. It looks pretty promising. I've lined up someone who definitely seems like they're going to take it. I'll be glad to get out of this place. It has been quite a trial living here during the year at times.

News about my fellow classmates is starting to filter down to me through the grapevine. A bucketload of students, a lot of whom I would consider academically solid, have failed at least one exam this year, and one exam in particular is starting to stand out: Medicinal Chemistry. It seems that quite a lot of people have to repeat this, and as usual, the faculty have blamed us. A few stats have been tossed out by the people who teach this course:

a) Two-thirds of the class scored below 50%
b) The average mark was 44%
c) The short answer questions were poorly attempted
d) Out of the five long-answer/essay questions, where you had to answer three, a lot of people went for the same three questions, thus highlighting that the class is excluding some material when revising.

Here's what I think:

a) This is a difficult subject, and only having one day a week devoted to lectures, without any tutorials, isn't enough to help people pass this course.
b) Ditto
c) My knowledge of the course was fairly comprehensive, yet out of the ten short answer questions, I only recognised the factual material required for three of them, and even then, they were phrased awkwardly, and what was asked of the student was at times as clear as mud.
d) One of the areas in this course is devoted to the area of pharmaceutics, which is basically dosage forms (i.e. tablets, capsules, suppositories, creams, etc.). I don't think I have ever come across an area that is so univerally disliked by pharmacy students, and when that particular lecturer used to make her appearance on Thursday mornings during this last year, there was a mass exodus to the coffee shop. Exclusion of parts of a module is frowned upon in healthcare courses, but the university has to realise that it would take the equivalent of John Keating in Dead Poet's Society to make this stuff anyway engaging, and students are always going to have their preferred areas, no matter what course they're doing.

This is more than a little irritating, as the feedback implies that the class are a bunch of dossers, when in fact most of them are pretty diligent. Myself, I came out of the exam thinking I had comfortably passed, only to find out when the results came out, that I had passed only by the skin of my teeth. Methinks if they are going to have exacting standards, they need to have exacting methods of teaching this stuff. The equivalent module in the fourth and final year was failed by over 80% of the class because the faculty thought they'd be smart and devote most of the paper to material that comprised only 20% of the areas presented in lectures. It backfired, and they had to hold a special resit, so that people could still be awarded their degrees in time before they were due to start their jobs.

Hopefully, now that I'll be staying in a house that looks nice and is reasonably central, I won't feel the need to leave it every day, and that this will translate into a more productive and efficient final year. Fingers crossed...

Another Pride picture

Me. At Pride. Shitfaced.

Courtesy of Jonathan, my Kung Fu sparring partner, to my immediate left.

Brighton Pride II

Upon hitting St. James' street, I found the party in full swing.

First I was treated to dinner at a Chinese by Jim, Phil's significant other, and then headed out to take in the gay atmosphere. I'd executed it better than last year, where I was wasted and tired by early evening. This year I'd paced myself and was ready for it all. I floated around the Star Inn and the BUlldog, throwing myself at various hot bears. Then I met a few girls from my pharmacy class, who, like a lot of girls at Pride, were bemoaning the lack of straight men. I chatted for a whie, went off on my own, and then...I came across the hot bloke. After making small talk, we locked lips passionately, and groped each other twenty different ways. He wanted to go off and meet some friends, so I got his phone number, saying I'd be in touch later.

Then I rejoined the pharmacy girls and dragged them to the Star Inn. I was pretty mashed at this stage, and wasn't doing a very good job of chatting to the bar staff ("It must be AWFUL being a gay man in a gay bar and having to work at Pride") and if I didn't know better, I'd think that they were giving me a wide berth.

Then, I tried ringing hot guy, but no answer.

At this stage I was WRECKED, but I'd heard there was a beach party happening later, and I wanted to hang on and see where it was. I downed two vodkas in the company of the pharmacy girls, got my second wind, and we headed on down to the beach. There I boogied, but the atmosphere lacked a certain je ne sais quoi after St. James' Street, so eventually I headed home, and got to bed at 6am. I plugged in my phone to charge it (it had died earlier) and I got a message from hot guy saying he was sorry to have missed my call and we would have to hook up again soon.

The next day I rose, went into town and wandered around a bit. I walked around and eventually settled on the Bulldog for the evening, where I actually met a second year gay pharmacy student (For a while, it appeared that I was the only one) and we various discussions about kinky things.

I eventually went home, as I had to start a placement in a pharmacy the next day.

Overall, it was a better Pride than last year, as last year I didn't even go into Preston Park, and had to go home early because I was too tired, This year I got it mostly right. Hopefully next year I'll get it even better. It's unfortunate in one sense: As my favourite time of the year, I almost feel under pressure to enjoy it. But it never disappoints...

Brighon Pride I

Well it's been a week to the day since last Pride, and I loved it.

Friday 3rd saw me get out of bed at my usual time (lunch) and head downstairs to discover that my Got Woof top had arrived. It wasn't very flattering as a long-sleeved top, so I headed into town to get it altered to make it into a t-shirt, which the tailor did for me while I waited.

So with that particular preparation taken care of, I headed to Vision Express to stock up on contact lenses. No self-respecting man-on-the-pull can be seen wearing glasses at Pride, so that was next on my to-do list. However, when I went into Vision Express, the woman told me that I couldn't buy any more contact lenses from them until I had an aftercare check up, and the soonest I could have one would be in a week's time. "But I can't wear glasses over Pride weekend!" I howled. She hastily found me a single pair to tide me over until the appointment. Which was yesterday. Which I completely forgot about. Oops.

After that, I went to get my beard trimmed. I opted for a sort of Chow-Yun Fat effort like from Curse of the Golden Flower. It looked Ok, but I don't think I have the face for it, so while I went with it on Pride weekend, I'm reverting back to normal beardiness now.

After that, I went to Lidl to stock up on food, and Sainsbury's to stock up on alcohol. Pride is always cheaper if you bring your own stuff to the park, and that's what I organised myself enough to do this year. Lastly, as I passed the Bully, I saw all the Bears who arrived early in preparation for the next day. I had an uncontrollable itch to join them, but I knew that if I got into a session, Saturday would be spoiled by a hangover. So I went home.

Of course, with all the excitement I didn't get to sleep untl about 4am anyway, but oh well...

Saturday I rose. Running late at 11:30, I had to order a cab, but I got to see the parade right from the start, which was pretty impressive as usual (and damn if some of the men in Brighton gay men's chorus aren't half bad looking).

Once that was over, I headed to Preston Park for the main event and took in the atmosphere, along with the the big hairy beasts at the Chunk tent. Yum! Then I met some people from Kung Fu and we sat around drinking for ages. At our end of the park, there were no toilets, so certain bushes were designated as Female, and one tree in particular was designated as the magic tree for men. Sample conversations overheard:


When a man tries to use the 'woman-only' bush:

Woman: "Excuse me! This is a woman-only bush!"


When I went to use the magic tree and found a man sitting right next to it:

Me (drunkenly) "Excuse me. Would it be alright if you moved so that I can take a leak against this tree?"


Shortly after that, I went off on my own, and shook my booty in the Wildfruit tent. On my way out, with about half an hour till the park was emptied and closed off, I bumped into a bloke. Bulging of muscle, this guy had a profile on gaydar I'd seen for the first time over a year ago, and I'd lusted over him ever since. We exchanged pleasantries, and then went our separate ways, but not before I found out that he would be in town later...

To be continued...

Brighton Pride!

It rocked, but now that I have a job for the first time in ages, I'm finding time management a bit of a problem.

All the gossip will follow shortly.

The big smoke

Yesterday saw me go on a junket to London to visit two hospitals that I'm thinking of applying to for when I graduate.

Thursday morning I rose, went to the bank to discuss some current account matters, and then got on the train. At 11:11am, the train pulled into London Victoria, and I felt relaxed, congratulating myself on having done everything on schedule.

The first hospital I needed to go to was in West Middlesex, so I went to the information desk to find out which tube train to get there:

Me:	"Excuse me. Can you tell me how to get to West Middlesex University Hospital? Which train is best?"
Woman:	"You can't get there from here."
Me:	"What?"
Woman:	"You should have changed at Clapham Junction. You need to go back there, and get another train out to Isleworth."
Me:	"Nnnnnngggghh!"

So, back I went to Clapham Junction (thank God for the British rail system. If that had happened in Ireland, I'd have been fucked), got another train out to Hounslow, and then another train to Isleworth. I arrived half an hour behind schedule.

The chief pharmacist didn't mind, thank God, and another pharmacist showed me around the place. It was a bit of an eye opener. Not much time is spent on the wards during your first year, in fact about 80% of a first year's time is spent in the department itself. This hospital in particular was not exactly within easy reach of London, and a rotation in mental health no longer forms part of the year, so the place won't be my first choice, but the pre-reg tutor and chief pharmacist seemed nice people whom I could work with.

Once I'd left, I headed off to Central Middlesex hospital. I had to get a tube (which was JAMMED with people), change at two stops, and then get a bus. I arrived for my next appointment, a short talk on what it was like to do the pre-reg year there, fifteen minutes late. Luckily they had only just started.

This one was more of a bit of an eye-opener. The surgical pharmacist chatted with us for about forty minutes about all the different rotations we would go through during the year, rotations which did include mental health this time, and we saw all the fancy instruments, which included a dispensing robot. This was one hospital I could definitely see myself working in, with it's proximity to central London, and I asked her about the competition for pre-reg places:

Me:	"Excuse me. Do you get many applicants for the places that are available?"
Her:	"Yes, it's quite competitive. Last year we got about 70 applicants for 3 places. This year, we expect to get 50 applicants."
Me:	"What?"

And this was one of the hospitals that didn't have an asterisk next to it on the online application website, meaning it's one of the less oversubscribed ones! Bloody hell, if I ever manage to get into a hospital, I can see it being in the remotest region of Wales or Scotland, at the rate this is going!

So after all that, I went back to London Victoria, toyed with the idea of going to (you guessed it!) Soho, dismissed it, and went home.

London Victoria is a sight to behold, though. I though Brighton was pretty multi-cultural, but the amount of different races I saw up there takes the biscuit. There was a definite buzz to the place, though, and I could definitely see myself living there in time to come.

All I have to do is get a first class honours degree. I can so see that happening.