A lovely evening to enjoy traditional fish and chips. It is cold, windy and wet. One of my best memories of eating fish and chips was on a day much colder than this, huddled in a shop doorway in out-of-season Whitby and wrapped in newspaper. To clarify lest the image is distressing – the meal was wrapped in newspaper. I was dressed in youth and sadness – it was shortly after the end of a romance, and surprisingly the ending was not causatively linked to being in Whitby in February.
For the second day in a row, I got into work early to complete the equality and diversity training I wrote about yesterday. I am now fully up to speed with the topic and look forward to getting the promised t-shirt and signed copy of the chief dysexecutive’s photograph.
The working day ended with a CBT workshop with junior medical staff – although strictly speaking, in equality terms, we should avoid titles like “junior” and “senior” – in which I focused on demystifying formulation. I think I succeeded, with analogies involving jig-saw puzzles and self-assembly furniture. I might expand on this on my psychology website shortly, if that is not being heightist.
The good news is that I don’t return to work until after Easter, so I have time to work on my other on-line projects, including my slowly developing photography site.