The doctor's clinic in my little Welsh village is in a very small hut where all the old people congregate on Monday afternoons. This, apart from Friday Club at the pub, has become the social highlight of my week.
"So why are you here, then?" you'll be asked in the tiny waiting room, if you ever feel like joining us one day. You'll be asked very loudly, of course, because everybody is going deaf and nobody wants to miss out on anything.
Now, you can cough and sniff and fake a head-cold all you like, but as soon as you get your turn with Dr Roberts we'll all know the truth because we'll be able to hear you. The hut is too small and the walls are too thin and I think we can all agree that it's better to be known as The one what got the crabs than That liar what got the crabs, don't you think?
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Annie, shouldn't the crabs be going to a vet and not a doctor? Please tell me your dead friend, the lady you photoed, didn't give you the crabs. She could have left you much more interesting things in her will.
ReplyDeleteOops, thank you for all the email, yes I am okay, no I don't have crabs, no it is nothing more serious. I should have made it clear why I was there, very loudly, in my post. I was just renewing a prescription — nothing more exciting than that.
ReplyDeleterenewing a prescription
ReplyDelete*closes jaw and wipes forehead*
Old people, like sullen teenagers, suffer from selective deafness. They lull you into thinking they can't hear a word you're saying, then as soon as you sigh "whingy old bat" under your breath, they go through you for a shortcut. Glad all's okay.
ReplyDeleteI wouldn't trust a Dr with a first name for a surname. S/he should apply their skills in a hairdressing salon.
ReplyDeleteAm glad you're not dead / dying in a hurry. You just made me deliriously happy with my first (only) comment on my first proper blog. Have had giddy girly crush on you and your blog for ages. May you live to be a 1,000 years old. x
ReplyDeleteIt does look like an ickle doctors clinic. What happens if you require a second opinion? Do you rope the receptionist in or twaddle off to ask the local butcher!
ReplyDeleteBlonk, blonk! Shit. Blonk.
ReplyDeleteI was thinking about that little hut surgery just the other day as it goes. Imagining if I'd stayed in the village how I would go about my 'issues' without having the whole community know about it.
ReplyDeleteI remember in the waiting room they had a speaker which was linked to a record player in the doctor's office. This suggested that Dr Roberts would have to keep changing the vinyl after about five tracks.
Oh that was me Christianoshi BTW. I can't be signed into Gmail and Blogger at the same time for some annoying reason.
ReplyDeleteYes, it used to drown out the voices. It's gone now, sadly. I guess it belonged to the last doctor. Your log-in for new blogger and your gmail should be the same thing as they are connected.
ReplyDeleteHey Bellulah, welcome, and thanks!
Oh I've tried changing it from my Hotmail add but this happens:
ReplyDeleteSorry, a Google Mail address is not allowed to be the primary address of this account.
Bizarre huh?
Hmm, yes. I'll get Bjarni onto it.
ReplyDeleteHere you can go to the doctor and discuss whatever issue you might care to share, then have him follow you around the corner to the galley for dinner with all of your friends as you continue to discuss that deeply personal reason you were in the other room just a few minutes earlier.
ReplyDeleteOoh! My rant turned into Annie's Blonk of the day!
ReplyDeleteWoot, I'm a STARRRR!! :))
Oh! I have finally posted again. Been very uninternetty lately.
ReplyDeleteThere's something about being in a doctor's surgery where everyone knows who you are. They have to say 'how are you', and you have to say 'fine', and you both have to pretend that makes sense, in context.
ReplyDelete