The Fifth Wander

I had St. John tonight, where we went over the Mental Health Act and discussed Mental Health Capacity and Consent - did you know, for example, that anyone under 16 can't give consent to medical treatment from a St. John Volunteer unless the volunteer acts in parentis? Did you know as well that St. John members have no obligation to treat someone when off duty, but a Health Professional does? Either way, people that join St. John tend to be the same - unless the situation presented to you is likely to result in loss of limb, we'll be in there with gloves and improvisation kits (kits I tend to call 'Super Bodge Brother' kits, but of course the patients don't hear that!)

St. John is possibly the best and most challenging thing ever to happen to me. Have you ever been great at retaining medical knowledge but know you couldn't get the grades to be a doctor? St. John will give you a leg up. Ever wanted to meet people who've 'been there,' on the medical front line? St. John is full of them. Ever thought, 'what would I do if...?' and panicked because you don't know the answer? Well, St. John has all the answers and more besides.
If anyone wants to join a club or society while still at Uni and wants something flexible and fun, I strongly recommend St. John. A lot of places in Cornwall have a local division (St. Ives, Penzance, Helston, etc) so you are never usually that far from a HQ!
St. John is a lifesaver (literally!) for me because I got cocky doing a BTEC National Diploma and thought I could get good grades at A Level. Of course, maths was never my strong point and my science A Levels turned out to be dismal - thus my dream of becoming a doctor floated away from me. This was how I ended up at Tremough, studying English, which hopefully will allow me to get involved in some kind of health/medical promotion either with animals or people (I've always loved being bossy :))
So, St. John is such a big part of my life now I couldn't let it go. Even when Peter decided to leave, I couldn't bear the thought of leaving my division behind, so I stayed on where Peter left.

I bought a tussie mussie (or flower garland) today to go with my wedding dress. I've always found it hilarious that while I, the blushing bride-to-be, bought my dress on Ebay for £90, my fiancee was suited and booted at a famous Cornish tartan company, with custom fittings, personalised service and three train journeys to be measured and recieve his beautiful but elaborate costume, and I must say, it's stunning. We practise dancing to our opening song ('When the Boat Comes In,' by Fisherman's Friends...) because neither of us can dance (in fact, Peter has fallen victim to an invisible stack of chairs hovering too close to a dancefloor before) but we love it. We think we're getting married in two years' time (if Peter doesn't come to his senses before then! :)) but the outfits are sorted, and we're hovering around a famous Cornish inn as the venue. When all else is said and done, the outfits may be eclectic, the food might well be seized by the Department for Health on breach of the RDA of calories, I might well be wearing a dress that doesn't fit and blue dolly shoes that look like a rip-off of the ruby slippers, upstaged by my husband-to-be, and we might well end up tripping over each other's feet in a Godforsaken inn in the middle of nowhere, but it will be 100% unadultered Jackson-Nicholls.
Night, bloggers. Sleep tight.