One of the surgeons I work with sent me a WhatsApp in the weekend.
On the face of it, it seemed innocent enough – a radio NZ interview on something to do with art – but it was sufficiently unusual behaviour that I texted him and asked him if he’d been hacked. He said, no, it was on purpose, because he knew I was interested in art. I thanked him, but was baffled. Of course, I couldn’t say I’m not interested in art – what am I, a monster?! – but I’m sure we’ve never had a conversation about it. Is this another of those occasions when I’ve been mistaken for one of my colleagues with a similar name? There are a few of us Kirsty/Kirsten/Kristins in the department. However, he has a brain the size of a planet – he casually mentioned to me the other day that he sat some legal exams last week, as he’s studying some law papers out of interest – so the least I can do is have a listen. Which I will do, as soon as I have some free time.