I'm about to attend a one day conference aimed at medical students interested in medical education. As ever, I have been requested to fill out a questionnaire and one of the questions asks whether I am attending for the benefit of my CV. I think it is an indictment on the current system that students are attending everything under the sun for the express purpose of enhancing CVs. Why can't people simply attend something because they want to or because they have a personal interest?
When I read CVs as an employer in my past, if I saw attendance on courses, I would make it my business to grill the candidate about the course to verify in my own mind if the attendance was genuine or mere window dressing. I find it astonishing the lengths my peers will go to to enhance a CV irrespective of any personal interest let alone altruism!
The chilling reality is that future generations of doctors are being created on the basis of a perceived pressure to attend courses in which they have no basic interest. I can only hope their interest is being reserved for patients -if there is anything in it for them of course....
Saturday, 31 March 2012
Tuesday, 29 November 2011
Heroes and Villains
As we prepare for a day of national shame when tens of thousands of public sector workers see fit to go on strike, it is timely to reflect on their decided course of action.
They will abstain from work and hence pay on the urging and advice of their Union overlords. Just for clarity, the latter will not forsake their pay - which is considerable. The top heads of the unions in our country don't earn less than six figure sums - good "work" if you can get it. In addition, it is these very organisations who played the role of kingmaker in the recent appointment of the largely unknown Milliband as Labour leader. So it is fair to say that they wield no little influence in the hearts and minds of the electorate.
You will hear no protestation or condemnation from the Labour party with regard to the strike action. Interestingly though, neither will you hear unconditional support. Easier to sit on the fence and say nothing. It puts me in mind of that great quotation, "Sometimes it's better to just sit there and look stupid rather than open your mouth and remove all doubt".
Let us consider the past of the current Labour leader. He served his apprenticeship at the Treasury under the tutelage of the profligate Gordon Brown who camouflaged himself rather poorly behind words such as prudence. Let us be crystal clear about Brown. As the Chancellor of New Labour he took spending money to hitherto unimagined levels of waste, decadence and irresponsibility. Prudent he was not.
The aptly named incumbent shadow Chancellor is no less profligate in his views. The difference between him and his leader is that he does not attempt to conceal his enthusiasm for spending. With Milliband we don't know because he does not dare tell us.
Put simply, this country is in debt up to it's ears as a direct legacy of eleven years of Viv Nicholson in charge. Viv was the lady who famously vowed to spend, spend, spend having scooped the football pools in the 1960s. And she did. Spectactularly. She ended up bankrupt. The difference is that Brown and Blair have now been put out to grass with generous pensions and pay offs.
It amazes me that public sector workers choose to strike when all around them are losing their jobs. I'm aware of their grumbles and whinges regarding future pensions. However, their rose tinted Utopian view of things became a thing of the past a long time ago. You don't need to be a mathematician. All you need is realism and they seem staunchly immune.
Last week I heard a prominent journalist bemoaning the latest initiative of the coalition to promote youth employment by providing incentives to employers. Where was the guarantee of a job at the end of the contract? Job guarantee? What is this new concept. I thought we were now in 2011. Presumably, she is stuck in the Union wrecked misery of the 1970s.
There is of course one good thing which will come out of the strike. That is one day less of pay for the country to find for these people. I wonder if they might acquire a taste for it? There is always hope because I believe that youth unemployment is at an all time high so there shouldn't be too much trouble replacing them.
They will abstain from work and hence pay on the urging and advice of their Union overlords. Just for clarity, the latter will not forsake their pay - which is considerable. The top heads of the unions in our country don't earn less than six figure sums - good "work" if you can get it. In addition, it is these very organisations who played the role of kingmaker in the recent appointment of the largely unknown Milliband as Labour leader. So it is fair to say that they wield no little influence in the hearts and minds of the electorate.
You will hear no protestation or condemnation from the Labour party with regard to the strike action. Interestingly though, neither will you hear unconditional support. Easier to sit on the fence and say nothing. It puts me in mind of that great quotation, "Sometimes it's better to just sit there and look stupid rather than open your mouth and remove all doubt".
Let us consider the past of the current Labour leader. He served his apprenticeship at the Treasury under the tutelage of the profligate Gordon Brown who camouflaged himself rather poorly behind words such as prudence. Let us be crystal clear about Brown. As the Chancellor of New Labour he took spending money to hitherto unimagined levels of waste, decadence and irresponsibility. Prudent he was not.
The aptly named incumbent shadow Chancellor is no less profligate in his views. The difference between him and his leader is that he does not attempt to conceal his enthusiasm for spending. With Milliband we don't know because he does not dare tell us.
Put simply, this country is in debt up to it's ears as a direct legacy of eleven years of Viv Nicholson in charge. Viv was the lady who famously vowed to spend, spend, spend having scooped the football pools in the 1960s. And she did. Spectactularly. She ended up bankrupt. The difference is that Brown and Blair have now been put out to grass with generous pensions and pay offs.
It amazes me that public sector workers choose to strike when all around them are losing their jobs. I'm aware of their grumbles and whinges regarding future pensions. However, their rose tinted Utopian view of things became a thing of the past a long time ago. You don't need to be a mathematician. All you need is realism and they seem staunchly immune.
Last week I heard a prominent journalist bemoaning the latest initiative of the coalition to promote youth employment by providing incentives to employers. Where was the guarantee of a job at the end of the contract? Job guarantee? What is this new concept. I thought we were now in 2011. Presumably, she is stuck in the Union wrecked misery of the 1970s.
There is of course one good thing which will come out of the strike. That is one day less of pay for the country to find for these people. I wonder if they might acquire a taste for it? There is always hope because I believe that youth unemployment is at an all time high so there shouldn't be too much trouble replacing them.
Monday, 29 August 2011
Crossroads
In August 2004, I was walking in Cornwall with my (now) wife and she asked me what I really wanted to do with my life. Not having considered this for a long time, I gave the question great thought and then replied, law. Mindy was dumbfounded because I had never intimated any interest in this area before. As we walked along, I said that what I really wanted to do was medicine. She shook her head in disbelief and asked if I intended to change my mind again. No, this time I was quite sure. It was, after all, what I had wanted to do seventeen years earlier when I sat my A levels.
We returned home to North Wales and I made some calls to establish how I would go about it. The advice was clear; I would have to complete a science degree first and then apply to medical schools. I was now 35 years old and immediately wondered if perhaps I might be told old.
Despite having completed the first two years of an honours degree in Biomedical Sciences in 1989, I was told that this was too long ago to be considered. As a consequence, I would have to start from scratch and study for three years to achieve my first step towards medical school. This I duly achieved having lost a year on the way due to ill health.
I applied to four medical schools and was refused an interview by three of them. However, one gave me the chance and I was subsequently offered a place. Whereas my first degree had allowed me to commute from home, the medical school which offered me a place was simply too far away to do so again. I thus lived away from home to study medicine. When I went to medical school my son was just one year old and I felt a great wrench being apart from him and my wife.
It is important to point out that as each year progressed, my identity as a medical student became more and more entrenched. This is important because whoever we are and what ever we do, our sense of identity is key to who we are.
Next week I go before the Progress Committee having failed to achieve satisfactory marks in the medical knowledge exams at the end of the third year. I have spent the last week with my identity in limbo. If the committee rejects my explanation for falling short of standards, I will be out and that, as they say, will be that after seven years study, hard work and sacrifice.
It is of course entirely their prerogative who they accept and who they don't but I sincerely hope they give me the opportunity to have another go at the third year or I shall have to seek a new identity..
We returned home to North Wales and I made some calls to establish how I would go about it. The advice was clear; I would have to complete a science degree first and then apply to medical schools. I was now 35 years old and immediately wondered if perhaps I might be told old.
Despite having completed the first two years of an honours degree in Biomedical Sciences in 1989, I was told that this was too long ago to be considered. As a consequence, I would have to start from scratch and study for three years to achieve my first step towards medical school. This I duly achieved having lost a year on the way due to ill health.
I applied to four medical schools and was refused an interview by three of them. However, one gave me the chance and I was subsequently offered a place. Whereas my first degree had allowed me to commute from home, the medical school which offered me a place was simply too far away to do so again. I thus lived away from home to study medicine. When I went to medical school my son was just one year old and I felt a great wrench being apart from him and my wife.
It is important to point out that as each year progressed, my identity as a medical student became more and more entrenched. This is important because whoever we are and what ever we do, our sense of identity is key to who we are.
Next week I go before the Progress Committee having failed to achieve satisfactory marks in the medical knowledge exams at the end of the third year. I have spent the last week with my identity in limbo. If the committee rejects my explanation for falling short of standards, I will be out and that, as they say, will be that after seven years study, hard work and sacrifice.
It is of course entirely their prerogative who they accept and who they don't but I sincerely hope they give me the opportunity to have another go at the third year or I shall have to seek a new identity..
Friday, 29 July 2011
Understanding the other guy.
It is nearly a week since Andreas Behring Brevik committed the senseless murder of at least 77 fellow countrymen in his native Norway. I have spent much of that time trying to understand his motives and their impact on a country which continues to be the embodiment of perfect living to many of its European neighbours.
Twenty years ago, I moved to Barnsley in South Yorkshire and was very much the stranger in a local town for local people to coin the much loved edict of Royston Vasey. Just before my first night out with my good friend who was a local, he gave me three pieces of advice: First of all, I was not to mention the coal miner's strike which was still fresh in the memory of many. Next, I would do well to avoid the subject of cricket and, in particular, their local son, Geoffrey Boycott, since the mere subject aroused divisions centred around love and hate. Finally, I was advised to avoid the whole area of politics since this was something of a done deal in Barnsley. When I pressed him on the latter, he kindly put his point into some kind of context. He suggested that if there was a General Election tomorrow in Barnsley and there was a man wearing a blue rosette, a man wearing a yellow rosette and a donkey wearing a red rosette, they'd vote for the chuffing donkey. This was clear enough so I managed to avoid all three subjects that night and for the next three years.
However, my deeper point here is one of tolerance and openness to change. Barnsley was parochial in the extreme. It was surrounded by Rotherhan, Doncaster, Sheffield, Leeds, Bradford, Dewsbury, Huddersfield, Halifax and Wakefield to name but a few. Each of the latter boasted large immigrant Asian populations while Barnsley alone resisted their arrival. I have often speculated on the future of Barnsley and wonder whether this picture of intransigence has since abated and given way to mild tolerance of cultures different to their own. I certainly hope so and hope that Barnsley is the winner by it.
However, back to Anders Brevik. I have read his 2083 document and I'm afraid that it is written by an unbalanced man with a rose tinted view of the past and the future. He may be resistant to change in Norway but the world is changing for ever. It may or may not be for the better but you simply can't fight change when its progress is so inexorable. The internet, cheap air flights and social networking have all conspired to reduce the geograhical constraints of the world around us. It is sad in the extreme that Anders chose to pursue his convictions in this manner and my heart goes out to the families of all those youngsters. We all of us need to accept change and it is hugely regrettable that Anders did not realise this. Perhaps his decision to isolate himself contributed to his delusions and maybe this is the lesson which we all need to draw from this dreadful event.
Twenty years ago, I moved to Barnsley in South Yorkshire and was very much the stranger in a local town for local people to coin the much loved edict of Royston Vasey. Just before my first night out with my good friend who was a local, he gave me three pieces of advice: First of all, I was not to mention the coal miner's strike which was still fresh in the memory of many. Next, I would do well to avoid the subject of cricket and, in particular, their local son, Geoffrey Boycott, since the mere subject aroused divisions centred around love and hate. Finally, I was advised to avoid the whole area of politics since this was something of a done deal in Barnsley. When I pressed him on the latter, he kindly put his point into some kind of context. He suggested that if there was a General Election tomorrow in Barnsley and there was a man wearing a blue rosette, a man wearing a yellow rosette and a donkey wearing a red rosette, they'd vote for the chuffing donkey. This was clear enough so I managed to avoid all three subjects that night and for the next three years.
However, my deeper point here is one of tolerance and openness to change. Barnsley was parochial in the extreme. It was surrounded by Rotherhan, Doncaster, Sheffield, Leeds, Bradford, Dewsbury, Huddersfield, Halifax and Wakefield to name but a few. Each of the latter boasted large immigrant Asian populations while Barnsley alone resisted their arrival. I have often speculated on the future of Barnsley and wonder whether this picture of intransigence has since abated and given way to mild tolerance of cultures different to their own. I certainly hope so and hope that Barnsley is the winner by it.
However, back to Anders Brevik. I have read his 2083 document and I'm afraid that it is written by an unbalanced man with a rose tinted view of the past and the future. He may be resistant to change in Norway but the world is changing for ever. It may or may not be for the better but you simply can't fight change when its progress is so inexorable. The internet, cheap air flights and social networking have all conspired to reduce the geograhical constraints of the world around us. It is sad in the extreme that Anders chose to pursue his convictions in this manner and my heart goes out to the families of all those youngsters. We all of us need to accept change and it is hugely regrettable that Anders did not realise this. Perhaps his decision to isolate himself contributed to his delusions and maybe this is the lesson which we all need to draw from this dreadful event.
Tuesday, 19 July 2011
Regulation
As Rupert Murdoch was being brought to account by some politicians whose peers he has traditionally manipulated, I couldn't decide whether I was struck more by the hypocrisy or the irony. Perhaps they could both be questioned by a policeman to round off the farce. Oh yes, I almost forgot - the children of the African drought continue to die of starvation.
Friday, 27 May 2011
Us and Them
In 1968, Jimmy Page and his manager Peter Grant acquired the rights to the name of the Yardbirds. Wishing to give new impetus to their fading star, they relaunched briefly as the New Yardbirds. It was in this format that Page performed in the early autumn of 1968 with established music professional John Paul Jones on bass and two unknowns from the Black Country making up the quartet called Robert Plant and John Bonham. The rest is history of course but have you ever wondered how the more familiar name Led Zepellin came about? Several stories exist but the most likely involves a conversation between the two late rhythm players of The Who. Having just enjoyed a secretive recording session with Jimmy Page, Jeff Beck and Nicky Hopkins, John Entwistle joked to Keith Moon "we should call ourselves Lead Zeppelin because we'll go down like a lead balloon". The famous quintet was doomed from the outset due to the lack of a credible singer. Steve Marriott, Steve Winwood and Terry Read were all "otherwise engaged" so that was that. However, the shrewd Page took the name and Entwistle's artwork with him to launch his own group a couple of months later. Well, almost.
Have you ever wondered why Page chose to spell it Led instead of Lead? Interviewed in the last month of 1968, his answer was succinct; "If we spell it Lead, the thick Americans will mis-pronounce it" (as the implement used for walking a dog...). Very clever when you stop to consider it. He had grasped the American audience even at that stage.
It was therefore with more than a hint of mirth that I learnt of the sacking of Cheryl Cole off an American prime time TV show. Now I have to confess that my knowledge of Cheryl Cole is limited with a capital L. However, I have heard her speak.
In Britain, we have a plethora of regional dialects each with its own identity. Broadly speaking, we become used to them from the Geordie to the Taff to the Scouser to the Scot to the Cockney to the Black Country Yam Yam. The fact is that strong British regional accents don't work stateside because we become desensitised to how strong and unintelligible they can be. Cheryl Cole would have had more chance with sub-titles and one of those people doing sign language next to her to give her audience a fighting chance.
This does go to prove one inescapable fact. You can have all the looks in the world but if nobody can understand a word you're saying you have the functional merit of a chocolate teapot or an ashtray on a motorbike. I am at a loss to understand the thought process of the producers who hired her. What can they have been thinking?
To quote their President, we may have a special relationship but our differences are as strong as ever they were.
Have you ever wondered why Page chose to spell it Led instead of Lead? Interviewed in the last month of 1968, his answer was succinct; "If we spell it Lead, the thick Americans will mis-pronounce it" (as the implement used for walking a dog...). Very clever when you stop to consider it. He had grasped the American audience even at that stage.
It was therefore with more than a hint of mirth that I learnt of the sacking of Cheryl Cole off an American prime time TV show. Now I have to confess that my knowledge of Cheryl Cole is limited with a capital L. However, I have heard her speak.
In Britain, we have a plethora of regional dialects each with its own identity. Broadly speaking, we become used to them from the Geordie to the Taff to the Scouser to the Scot to the Cockney to the Black Country Yam Yam. The fact is that strong British regional accents don't work stateside because we become desensitised to how strong and unintelligible they can be. Cheryl Cole would have had more chance with sub-titles and one of those people doing sign language next to her to give her audience a fighting chance.
This does go to prove one inescapable fact. You can have all the looks in the world but if nobody can understand a word you're saying you have the functional merit of a chocolate teapot or an ashtray on a motorbike. I am at a loss to understand the thought process of the producers who hired her. What can they have been thinking?
To quote their President, we may have a special relationship but our differences are as strong as ever they were.
Monday, 23 May 2011
Dulce Domum
I've just started reading the Wind In The Willows to my son for bedtime stories recently. As a child, it was my favourite book by far and I'm still young enough to pick it up every now and again. Its great to see the look of wonder and enjoyment on his face as new characters are introduced. There is an undoubted charm to this novel and I think at its root is the gentility and innocence of that Golden Age between the end of the Victorian era and the First World War. Class plays its part of course but its great acheivement is to make you feel as though you part of the adventures. Each character is endearing in very different ways and when I was growing up, I would think of people as Rat, Mole, Badger or Toad. If I'm honest, I still do. For what its worth, I've always identified most with the character of Badger. I hope my son garners the same levels of joy and pleasure from this book as I have. At the time of writing, he has a soft spot for Toad but I wonder if his views will change?
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