I have a bandage and I'm not afraid to use it...

Today, I'm feeling quite proud of myself. Small things. And I know anyone can do it, and it's not a big deal or anything, but I do feel like I've accomplished something of a personal goal. For as of this fine afternoon, I am a newly qualified first aider at work. Yes - be afraid, be very afraid. This week has been fun, actually. I wasn't expecting it to be quite so entertaining. There's the added bonus of being out of the office for almost a week (woohoo!), and the fact that you are learning a new skill...but it's been most amusing taking my blood and bandages homework home with me to practice slings on my bemused Other Half and swap horror stories with my fellow trainees and our teacher.

Here's hoping I never actually have an emergency to contend with, though. Blood I can cope with. Sticking my finger in my eye, no problem. Nailed the correct manner to dress a wound with a foreign body in it. Protruding bones through skin, however - well, you can keep those, thank you very much. My class have had to sit through some truly horrendous videos this week - burns, falls, chemical spills, spurting arteries, the works...but the only things to truly turn my stomach were the photos of footballers with snapped tibia bones jutting out their pointing-the-wrong-way legs. Hurltastic.

In true me-style, though, this week has not been free from catastrophe. Did you really expect it to be? Of course not. Monday morning, I left the house in a hurry. It was washing day and all my jeans were in the laundry basket, so I shoved on my denim skirt without thinking too much of it. Only to get into my course and realise with a jolt of horror that we'd all be role playing and practicing exactly what to do in various emergencies. Yep, you guessed it. There I was in the middle of a room full of strangers, demonstrating the recovery position and flashing my polka-dot kecks to all and sundry.

At least I was wearing tights, I suppose. And knickers. It would have been far worse if not.