Ms Fab and I are now qualified first aiders. But don't call us if there's a problem, as we both managed to kill people in our exam. I killed myself, and Ms Fab killed the first aid instructor - both 'electrocuted' during an early nineteenth century train robbery, which was a bit of a puzzler.
I have to admit I was dreading the three-day first aid course. It was held at our school, and was yet another one of those things I'd volunteered for.... Luckily, I also managed to volunteer Ms Fab for it (misery loves company and all that). I wasn't looking forward to it because I always feel such an idiot on first aid courses - there you are, bandaging non-existent wounds, breathing life into truncated plastic people and generally doing stupid things whilst others watch you to see how many mistakes you make. Thankfully, things looked up when trainees from other schools turned up. One was a woman I had done a reading course with and with whom, it turned out, I shared an aversion to infants. 'I'll help any child in any way,' she said at the course, 'but I ain't singing songs with a fuckin' toy frog on my head.' She gained instant approval from me.
Over three days we learnt about breaks, bleeding, asthma attacks, poisoning, CPR, choking, bleeding and how men shouldn't do naked ironing (a true story from our instructor, used to illustrate (not literally) the lesson on burns). We got used to looking like idiots and regularly killed our casualties, but it was actually a hugely enjoyable course, made so by the other trainees and a particularly good instructor.
I have to admit I was dreading the three-day first aid course. It was held at our school, and was yet another one of those things I'd volunteered for.... Luckily, I also managed to volunteer Ms Fab for it (misery loves company and all that). I wasn't looking forward to it because I always feel such an idiot on first aid courses - there you are, bandaging non-existent wounds, breathing life into truncated plastic people and generally doing stupid things whilst others watch you to see how many mistakes you make. Thankfully, things looked up when trainees from other schools turned up. One was a woman I had done a reading course with and with whom, it turned out, I shared an aversion to infants. 'I'll help any child in any way,' she said at the course, 'but I ain't singing songs with a fuckin' toy frog on my head.' She gained instant approval from me.
Over three days we learnt about breaks, bleeding, asthma attacks, poisoning, CPR, choking, bleeding and how men shouldn't do naked ironing (a true story from our instructor, used to illustrate (not literally) the lesson on burns). We got used to looking like idiots and regularly killed our casualties, but it was actually a hugely enjoyable course, made so by the other trainees and a particularly good instructor.
Forgot to check for danger. Dammit,
another casualty.
Other stuff: my RE assignment was submitted and has just been marked. The tutor said it was very good and a joy to mark, and then proceeded to tell me all the things I'd done wrong and how I should have done it. She criticised my referencing, by writing 'mostly' in the box next to: 'The student uses correct Harvard referencing.' Mostly? Mostly??! I've spent the past four year agonising over bloody references. I sent her three pages of meticulously checked references. I know I shall put a lot less effort into the next assignment, anyway. I wonder if I can put it on hold for the next decade? (Reading back through this, it becomes evident that I don't take criticism that well.)
I also submitted my OU assignment on how the media portrays mental health. I'd been reading loads of complaints on the forum about how difficult it was to write, but I found it quite easy. So I've probably completely misinterpreted the question. Oh well, I only need 40% for a rather dodgy pass.
And now I need to pick a focus for my second RE assignment. I think I'll just write: 'I see no point in doing this, as you so obviously hate me (Eyres, 2014)'.
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