#SCRUBS
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rachels-memories.bsky.social
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[from The Tower Room]
"Shh," I say, and beckon her. "Now come here and take what you want." "How—?" "Like you were before." I indicate my lap. "But *better. * Just come here." She does, and it goes on like this for awhile, with the gamine Miss Granger perched naked atop my exigent lap, while I attempt to postpone the inevitable. It's more difficult than it sounds. I have just gone through some things—a lot of things, in fact, to get us in this... position (or any position). You might say I am fully invested in it. Then, just when I'm about to get proper attention to my erection, a rude and ridiculously loud klaxon begins to souna. Before I can identify the source of the aural assault, Miss Granger has abandoned me, dripping and unresolved, to don her scrubs, pausing only to admonish me to "get dressed," and to "hurry," before leaving me alone in my tower room. With my predicament.
February 4, 2026 at 8:53 AM
andydrummond.bsky.social
Were you around when a colleague turned up in privately purchased maroon scrubs and then spent the rest of the day being asked by all and sundry if he’d come to do a CXR?
February 4, 2026 at 8:34 AM
drdmcgregor.bsky.social
I really find it inspiring that the single unifying experience amongst all NHS doctors is an immediate and passionate disdain of anyone who turns up in fitted branded scrubs
February 4, 2026 at 7:53 AM