2008 was always the Big One, that moment up ahead where I would finally get there. Where ‘there’ was, I didn’t actually know, but I knew it involved becoming a Real Doctor. It probably also involved weighing a stone less, being considerably blonder and a whole lot wittier. I think it maybe meant being grown up, what ever that is.
Well, it’s bloody gone and snuck up and arrived hasn’t it. Without warning, 2008 has burst into my life, and I’m not there. Not remotely there. I don’t feel anywhere near grown up (and I’m still carrying that extra stone. And the mousy hair. And I’m not very witty either. Bugger).
Suddenely, the slow inexorable march of the Last Times has begun. The last time singing with the medics choir at Christmas; the last time walking from home to see the lights in Bournville; the last time I’ll attend the Medschool carol concert.
Soon those last times will be tainted with excitement, pleasure even. The last time of introducing myself to a patient as a medical student; the last time I write my university exam number on the top of a paper; the last time I fill out a form as ‘Miss’…
There's a last time for everything, I guess.