Bless You.
If there’s ever been a week when I’ve struggled for suitable material for the blog then this is surely it! Basically nothing has happened, which means I’m either living a more boring life or the people around me are slowing down, getting ready for winter hibernation.
About the most exciting thing to occur was when I went to the chemist to pick up my latest prescription and found a lady waiting in front of me. She was trying to attract the chemist’s attention but because of an eye level screen that the chemist was working behind she was able to:
“Oh hello, excuse me,” said the woman.
“Oh yes, I was just serving that lady over there, what can I do for you?” says the white coated one as she emerges from behind the screen.
“Oh, I hope you didn’t think I was being rude, I just didn’t think you’d seen me behind that screen”
“Oh yes, it is a bit big isn’t it, and oh no I didn’t think you were being rude.”
”Yes, I just wanted to make sure you knew I was here, I hope you don’t mind?”
”Oh no, that’s quite all right, what is it you want anyway?”
”I could just see your eyes and so I thought it best to say something, hope that’s ok?”
“No that’s fine, I didn’t take it the wrong way.”
”Just wanted to make sure you didn’t think I was being cheeky.”
”Oh no, I never thought that, that’s quite ok.”
And on and on and on and on and bloody on! Honestly now, hand on my heart they basically apologised to each other for a proper 5 minutes, never mind that I’m stood behind them all ready to go into a hypogalatical shock, or something like that. And then, when it was my turn and I asked for the prescription that Moni has dropped off yesterday she’s all suspicious and defensive like I’ve just asked for the takings in the till.
“Was it dropped off yesterday for today or is it something we’ve got to order, because it won’t be ready otherwise?”
I hate it when that happens. You ask for something directly and the other person presumes you’re actually asking for something else and tries to second-guess the situation. Doctor’s receptionists are classics for doing this type of thing……
“Oh hello, I saw the doctor last week and he told me……..”
”We’re not accepting any new appointments until next week now.”
”No, it’s not that, he told me to have a word with you and………”
”No, you’ll need a doctor to sign your prescription, I can’t do that.”
”No, it’s not my prescription, what it is is that he told me…….”
“It’s only a drop in clinic today, you’ll have to come back next week.”
”Just shut the fluck up bitch and just listen for once in your smug holier than thou permed hair over made-up life, yeah?”
The other alternative is that they think you are up to something sneaky and treat you with the contempt usually reserved for stray dogs. I remember way back when I was walking up Allesley Park hill with Ian Thompson, (who had a squishy nose but that’s besides the point) when we were about 13. Anyway there’s a lady pushing her bike up in front of us and a bag falls off her pannier carrier thing. So we pick it up and see that it contains some He-Man figures that were all the rage then. The lady realises turns her bike round and sees that we’ve got the bag. We’re already proffering it out to her when…..
“I’ll have that thank you!”
“Yeah here you go it just fell off your bike”
“Mmmmm”
And off she goes, no one bloody murmur of a thank you, just the total suspicion that we were going to do a runner with Man at Arms, Buzz-Off and Modulok!
Best news of the week is that I’m mobile again after the demise of the Red Rocket Renault. The replacement is that much loved car of the taxi drivers, a stunning sky-blue (hurrah) Toyota Carina!
Worse news of the week was that on the day I picked it up the bloody starter motor went, so it now leaves me sitting in car parks going “click, click, click, click” until eventually the contacts make, well err contact and I get going. What’s worse is that it’s the sort of sound that attracts people’s attention and you can see then all turn round thinking, ooooh that’s his starter motor gone, he won’t get going now. Consequently I find myself waiting until there’s no-one around before I start my next round of clicky-click-clicking.
Final couple of snippets of news.
After Saturday's march of death from dropping my car off in Winnersh to the centre of Reading, I simply couldn't face the thought of walking back all that way to pick it up again. Thinking that the train station would be an excellent place to go to find a taxi, I hadn't reckoned on fifty billion other likeminded souls all trying the same thing. Well it was that or they were watching the two pricks outside of the Railway Tavern trying to beat each other up, but anyway on seeing the size of the queue I thought it might be quicker to "let the train take the strain" as Jimmy Saville might say.
Having bought by ticket (£2.30) been accosted by the bloke from Childline or something, who "didn't want a donation" but just wanted "a couple of minutes of your time to discuss some of the issues facing........" "NO!", made my way through the electronic barrier and onto the platform. I noticed that there was a huge queue lining up by the excess fare windows, i.e. all the clever little idiots who thought they could "buck the system" and travel for free. Finding my train I noticed that not only was there a South West Trains guard patrolling outside his vehicle but there were also two British Transport Police marching up and down the platform. Once we'd set off the guard starts to make his way down the carriages but two uniformed Gestapo officers accompany him from an organisation I'd never heard of. They were both wearing red peaked caps and the female one of the two fairly bellowed that we should all get our tickets ready for inspection. Funnily enough they never got near me by the time I alighted at Winnersh but instead they got out at the same place. We were all making our way to the end of the platform where there was yet another guard, and two more British Transport Police. (Well unless the two I'd seen at Reading had ran very quickly.) So add together the two red-hatted goons that had got off with me there were now 5 officers of the trains inspecting people's tickets as we left the station. As I got to Checkpoint Charlie there was an archetypal teenage Chav who'd just been apprehended by the officials. His beef seemed to be that he'd bought a ticket but had lost it, whilst the policeman was arguing that he couldn't produce a valid ticket so was liable for a fine. Fair enough apart that I got my ticket out to be inspected and was waved through with a cheery "thank you sir" without a second glance. I could have been holding up my Blockbusters card for all they knew! Still them's the breaks!
The second piece of commentary is driving back from Reading early next morning, having just discovered that the car boots were all cancelled, I was forced to listen to Aled Jones on Radio 2. Now Aled's show isn't exactly a religious show but it does contain certain elements of spirituality and suchlike. His special guest was a lady vicar who'd lost her daughter in the 7/7 London Bombings and her faith had been called into question by these tragic happenings. Now I don't want to comment on her loss, I couldn't even begin to imagine what such a tragedy must mean, but as I was listening to her I started to realise that she was actually saying nothing at all. After every "profound" statement Aled would also come back with something just as meaningless and the two of them no doubt had hundreds of listeners all over the country nodding along to their radios as these two people spoke verbal diarrhoea for about half an hour. Basically it was a case of litter any sentence with a selection of the following words; faith, prayer, thoughts, emotions, care, friends and family, fundamental, hope, inspiration, trust and love and hey presto as if by magic you can be your very own spiritual guru. To give an example the lady, for some reason, was speaking about acting on stage and she said something like "....because to get a really special performance you need to be vulnerable and only real vulnerability comes when you are surrounded by friends and family who can support you" - Now on the face of it, that sounds understandable until you actually start to look at the words. Now without using a dictionary vulnerable to me means "being at danger" or being "open to danger" so how on earth can you be in "real vulnerability" if you're surrounded by your friends who are going to make the situation less dangerous? It simply doesn't make sense. Sadly the whole of her interview was a whole plethora of similar meaningless catchphrases no doubt fooling the weak and blinding the gullible. And they say religion isn't all Hocus Pocus! Peace be with you!
Today's lesson was brought to you in memory of BBC Radio 2 Producer Paul Walters who died this weekend just gone. Paul produced the Terry Wogan show for any years and certainly made my daily journey into work a much more pleasurable experience. Here's to Dr Wally!
