I am on CPD today.
CPD stands for Continuing Professional Development.
I hate it.
The only upside to attending CPD is that it’s a day off from the normal grind.
Every registered professional in the health service has to do it at least once per year. It’s where we go to ensure that if nothing else, we are up to date with the most fundamental changes to our practice. I guess this satisfies the Department of Health though.
It’s not the trainers fault that it’s so dull, though they don’t help themselves. I mean, who wants to sit in front of power point presentations for eight hours? Booooooring. I am of the belief that it is impossible to learn this way. I mean, I’m on my lunch break now and I have completely forgotten the entirety of this mornings ‘teaching’.
I upset the teacher too. He caught me nodding with my eyes closed. This is his first teaching gig and he’s eager to impress. He goes through each slide with such relish I can actually visualise him abusing himself over this crap behind closed doors.
So I upset him when I nodded off. I could really care less.
Only a few hours left now. I’ve sat here counting the lunch hour down and drinking anything that contains caffeine. The teachers will have their eye on me now and will gleefully single me out for awkward questions should I nod off again.
I may ask them to repeat the presentation if they do.
‘I’m sorry, I missed that bit. Could you repeat it please?’
‘Yes, all of it. I haven’t heard a word you’ve said.’
Should be a fun afternoon.
Author: Mark S Thompson
Okay, so these things are kind of hit and miss. If you’re reading this then I am thankful to you for taking the time out of your day to do so. I’ll be honest, when I think of myself as a writer, I kinda cringe. Don’t get me wrong, it is the dream, it's just I never really believe it will go anywhere.
When I think back to the day that I first knew I loved writing, and I mean really knew, I see myself sitting in an English lesson at secondary school. The school was called Wrotham and is in the county of Kent, England. As far as I know, it's still there. English was far and away my favourite subject. The best bit was when the teacher gave the class a selection of words and asked us to make up a story that either contained those words or was about those words, you know. At other times we would be given the first sentence and then write what happens next. Good times. Many times my work would reflect what I had recently read and it would be okay. Nothing special, just okay. On one occasion though I wrote about a merman called Finchy and can remember going into so much depth and detail about him and the underwater kingdom he lived in. I really enjoyed writing that and it must have shown because my teacher commented on it. She was really impressed and loved the story. That was it for me, my moment. Now when I write I think back to those great times and to that story. Hopefully, I’ll write something that you, the reader, will be moved to comment on. For me, there is no greater elixir
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