It’s a good job I’m a ‘cup half full’ kind of girl and can stay positive most of the time.  I’m sitting on the number 31 with feet that look like twin haggis and a face to match. Purple, swollen and blotchy is quite a unique look but at least it means that the seat next to me is likely to stay free; it means my work bag which is full of knitting, uneaten sandwiches and the latest Marian Keyes blockbuster gets to sit down too. I look at that bag with disdain. The traitor. Lulling me into a false belief that I would have a quiet night for my first shift at the Sunshine Retirement Village. I mean, how unreasonable was it to think that fifty two elderly people would sleep all night? That four care staff would just do as they were told so that I could get on with being the nurse and fit in a quick drink and the odd egg mayo in between med rounds? Nothing, I am telling you nothing could be further removed from reality. I rang the bell at exactly 7.45pm. Charisma (as I have aptly...

Well it’s been a funny old week. Last week I posted my CV online and I’ve had a great response. Everyone it seems, wants a nurse to fly their plane or lead their financial strategy. As flattering as it may be I don’t quite think I have the required skill set to become the Chief Financial Officer for a leading supermarket chain; if I’m hone st I struggle to figure out that my income has got to exceed my outgoings if I want to cool the intimate relationship I seem to have with my bank manager… Anyway, I digress. The week got better when I was invited to apply to become an agency nurse. Having spent the last 6 months working in the NHS I’ve worked with many an agency nurse and the stories I’ d heard have always been really positive. So I rocked up at the interview and lo and behold, ten minutes later I’m walking out with an induction plan and a uniform! Happy days! Ok, so maybe I shouldn’t have blurted out that my dress size was a ten when they got to the part of dishing ou...