W1B-006 Medical student-2.txt
17 Florentine Way, 8th June 1995.

Dear Roisin, How's it going? Just a quick letter to say 'hello' before I pop off to Australia for the summer. I have been meaning to write for some time (bought the Air Mail stamp some time ago indeed), but as usual I have left it to the last minute (I head early on 11th June and have still 2 cases and an essay to write for Friday, a party to go to on Friday night and all my shopping and packing to do!)

Things had been relatively quiet until recently. I must have seen you last towards the end of April. Since then I have tried to limit my drinking to one night a week, or be it one very big night a week.

The first weekend in April, our'section' of the class headed on our first trip to Sellafield (that lovely safe, clean nuclear power station on the other side of the Irish Sea, which has nothing to do at all with leukaemia in children in Co. Down!!) As you can see, they have managed to bullshit and bribe us well – who knows what a few free Guinness and a free meal can do!! We even got to stand on top of a nuclear reactor, and I didn't even get a tan. On the way back from Sellafield, 4 of us jumped off the bus and headed to Glasgow to meet up with another bunch of medics who were meeting up with some Glasgow medics. A nasty weekend indeed – to the tune of £ 125. But well worth the lack of memories!!

The following weekend we had the pleasure of entertaining 4  jeune femme

from Galway. I would describe them more as 'jolly' than  'jolie'.

However much alcohol was consumed by all and soon 'jolly' became 'jollier' and finally progressed to  'jolie'

under the influence of beer glasses. Ask Bill O'Neill sometime – who else? Of course I was too sober to indulge…

Things got pretty quiet after that, so myself and my entrepreneurial (my, what a big word for a medical student!) partner, Mr Fiachra Ryan took it upon ourselves to organise a 'mystery' tour. To most of us it still remains a mystery, not least to myself. The first destination was a bar in Bushmills where we spent considerable time getting drunk and "singing" karioke. Considering I was directing the bus-driver its a wonder we ever got back at all. At least I did better than Fergie. Apparently he took it upon himself to direct the driver in a difficult reversing manoeuvre at the end of our journey and he navigated the bus directly into a railing. 'Good man, Fergy.'

The last big social event on the calendar was the year formal last week in the Castle. I even brought a partner this year….the inimitable, stunning, personable…Mr. Patrick Casey. Well he had just finished his exams that day, and he had no-one else to go out with to celebrate, and…well, yes, I am a sad bastard. Nevertheless he enjoyed it, I enjoyed it…all in all, a good nights crack….except for being blown out by a CU girl. I thought that we had her well corrupted and allegedly we had tackled before when we were both very drunk (hence I can't remember it), but obviously she still doesn't know the meaning of a good time!!

Enough about me and my sad existence. What's the crack with yourself. I hope you're still enjoying yourself and having a whale of a time and not doing any work. I suppose that the weather's getting better (it couldn't be worse than here!) and that you're getting lovely and brown and attracting loads of tall, dark and handsome Belgians. Any scandal?

Must go now before I run out of paper. It's 2am and I have to still write up another case. So best of luck in the exams and other pursuits. I suppose you 'll be home again before me (27th August), so see ye then.

Au revoir et bisses

, Idiom or idiotic? Kevin.

PS: My address in Aussie (19th June – 28th July) is; Queens Base Hospital, Sydney, NSW3691.
