I was in the local paper recently, as they did a story about me and my music. Of course, quite a few people in the hospital were talking about it, and one of my bosses in emergency said to me “You know, Victor, you’re quite refreshing”
“Oh, what do you mean?”
“Well, it’s nice to see a doctor in the news for doing something legal. It doesn’t happen that often, these days.“.
I thanked him and explained that hookers and cocaine weren’t quite my thing. There’s a neurosurgeon currently coming to the end of his jail term after inadvertently killing a prostitute with a drug overdose by snorting cocaine out of her rectum. He was in the same year as my crazy supervisor in my old hospital. I hate to think what that years other graduates are upto right now….
Speaking of prostitutes (don’t worry- this isn’t’ headed where you think…), I think back to my first year in secondary school, and studying medieval history. One ongoing theme in medieval England was the constant power struggle between catholics and protestants. I was eleven years old, and we would write essays on various aspects of this period every week. However only being eleven, my lack of life experience showed through. For an entire year, I wrote essays pin the constant power struggle between the catholics and the prostitutes.
For and entire year.
My history teacher let me do this for an entire year.
Not once did he think of correcting me.
I was eleven. I had no idea what a prostitute was.
I can only assume that
a) I was so good at history that he kept me in the top group despite this monumental mistake
b) I was terrible at history, but he kept me in the top group in spite of this for sheer entertainment value.
Dr Sandys-Wood, you are a terrible, terrible man.
How is everyone?
Such is the timing of the world cup in Brazil that if I were in London, I could watch every match between 5pm and midnight. In Sydney, they’re on between 2am and 10am, so I have had one uninterrupted nights sleep in the last 2 weeks. As much as I’m loving it, I love the day(s) when there are no matches. Just 2 more weeks. Although it’s a bit sad with England gone. Australia- gone. Nigeria are my last hope. It’s once every 4 years. It’s worth the suffering.
I generally go back to London twice a year, but decided not to, as I’ve got tonnes of study to do this year. Or at least I wasn’t, until Kye rudely decided to get married this August. At least I get to see my family again, which is always awesome. You may know that I have a brother and 2 sisters, and that we all get on like a house on fire. Literally, when all 4 of us get together, it’s only a matter of time before we’re all rolling around the floor laughing.
(Dilys and I on the ferry in Sydney Harbour. victor-thediary.blogspot.com.au/2014/01/c…wait.html)
One of my sisters quit her job as a lower to set up a music and dance school for toddlers, the other one quit her job in finance to be a professional singer, and my bother, when he’s not being a computer engineer, does standup comedy. Our parents pushed us all to be high achievers at school (essays about prostitutes ruling England notwithstanding), which I’m grateful for, but as you can see, we all have creative passions. My brother and I are both on Tinder (the dating app), and we both noticed that a lot of women on it will make quite stringent prerequisites, particularly to do with height, such as “No shorties”, “No short guys” and “If you’re under 5’10, then please don’t bother”. Paul (my brother) noticed a distinct double standard regarding this, and updated his Facebook status accordingly:
“If women can specify a minimum height, does that mean men can specify a maximum weight…?”
This naturally sparked a heated debate, but he came out on top: if women can say “no short guys” why can’t men say “no fat chicks”?
He rests his case.
In reading this, you know how much I love to tell a story, and I could tell you an infinite number of funny stories about them, but I think the funniest one, like some others I have, cannot be satisfactorily written- it has to be acted. So, I got my film director to film me telling it. It’s called ‘The second Greatest Song of All Time’- and for a reason. Some of you have heard me tell the story about the song I regard as the greatest song of all time, and I have filmed that one, but I can’t release it. Not yet. Not until I’ve done my exam at least. The medical profession will almost certainly take a dim view of it.
Until then, enjoy.