5.55pm.  I am now in no doubt, its the breasts and not the father that are pulling my strings for me, and I know this because when “The Mentor” - I refuse to refer to him by his actual name out of principle since he calls me 'sweetie' – told me to take a break just now, he couldn't take his eyes off on them.  Delightful.  I've been training for this since I was 6 years old and daddy gave me my first stethoscope, and now the path of my career is to be decided by the fact I've inherited my dad's mom's D cup, instead of my mom's AA one.  Deep fucking joy.<br/><br/>Still, all is not lost.  Have been in theatre today, and am being given a break, which given the state of some of the other Residents around here is obviously a rarity.  It's nice.  Five minutes to catch my breath, check the state of my hair in the mirror in my locker and...<br/><br/>Oh dear God.  What the Hell?!<br/><br/>A yellow A4, hastily photocopied flyer.<br/><br/>'New Residents Drinks.  9pm.  The Bar'.<br/><br/>I can see it now.  Exhausted, broken, first day on the job Residents.  Drunk.  Depressed.  Trying to climb down my top and up my skirt.<br/><br/>I can't wait...