I've done a course - whoop de doo

A few days ago a man I know proudly told me that his wife had done a cookery course. I love that the man is proud of his wife. I love that he brags about her. But I'm not sure that the fact that she has done a course is a guarantee of anything. Those who know me well will be astonished to hear that I held my tongue.

Don't get me wrong. I have sampled the lady's cooking and it's pretty good. But I don't know how good her cooking was before the course. I also know several excellent cooks who have never done courses. I don't know that I qualify as excellent, but I'm not half bad myself, and I've never done a course... unless you want to count the handful of diabolical cookery lessons I was forced to take at the age of 12, with a teacher who took out on me her anger that my grandmother's cakes always beat hers in the church fete baking competition.

"I've done a course" has a ring to it that people still cling to. But that bell is cracked. I know because I've done a first aid course. And I have a certificate to prove it. Oh yes, ladies and gentlemen, it's the truth. So next time you sever an artery or break a bone in my presence you will be able to tell all your friends that your injury was so severe that even a qualified first aider fainted. Because sure as eggs, that's what I'll do.

I've done a course.

Really? And did you learn anything?