Me, the Mentor

It appears that I've settled into a nice little rhythm of getting about 40 hits a day. Although my writing this blog has very little to do with publicity, it would be cool to get a few more reads every day, so if you know anyone who might be at all interesting in my mutterings then just give them a nod. And comment too, on anything you think would be better said than not.
Okay, so down to business, today I got some proteges. Before Christmas I applied to become an "online mentor", a student who is assigned some sixth formers, and replies to their questions and gives them academia-related advice over the net. I was interviewed, and apparently got one of the positions ahead of about ten other candidates- a curiosity as my interview technique is poor. Today I met my mentees. The project organiser asked me which school I was from, as I stood there with a week's stubble. It's nice to be complimented, but I'd rather wait until middle age for that kind of smooth talk. My students were three sixteen year old girls (yes, my girlfriend knows) from a local sixth form. They seemed enthusiastic enough, and reminded me of how immature I was when I was that age, yet how mature I felt. I was a bit disappointed that none of them had medicine in mind, because I had been told that that would be the case, but nursing and social work are both very challenging careers and I'm hopeful that I can give them a few tips. There was a buffet provided by the uni, and I got to keep whatever wasn't eaten or drunk so at current I have a two litre bottle of spring water and two trays of stale sandwiches to get through, I'm a sucker for a freebie.
I did another two pages of my essay without as much hard labour as I expected. When I get going I do break into fluency eventually, maybe this blog is helping me with my articulation. I can always use the "synonym" function on Word if I draw a blank.
And I applied for my 4th year project, I unsurprisingly chose the project involving being a personal lab assistant to a doctor working on Alzheimer's. The enticing offer of presenting the findings in Scotland and Iceland free of charge was the cherry on top of an interesting proposition.
Ah, and finally, for a change I saw a patient, admittedly not on my designated ward but a patient no less. A gentleman who had suffered a stroke two weeks ago after sixty years of not so much as a stubbed toe. It's a funny old game, medicine.