Re-accreditation. It’s the sort of thing you wish wasn’t necessary, that shouldn’t need to be necessary – but apparently is.

Competence is a virtue my Dad holds in high esteem. It’s what he would always ask us to aim for when we were children, a general competence in life being “all” he asks my sister and me to achieve. It doesn’t sound glamorous; to be called competent should surely be a minimum requirement. Being called competent feels about exciting as being called nice, or sensible or reliable – barely one half step from dull.

And yet.

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