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Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Balconniere. It's French for 'Plastic Trough'Well I may live in a flat with only two windows, but that's not going to stop me getting into horticulture. And it's all thanks to Royal Mail. If they hadn't abused the power of their mail-redirection service by selling my new address to Homebase, I'd never have received a 20%-off 'Welcome to Brighton' voucher for use at my local store, and ended up filling a trolley with flowers. Not that I'm giving in to the pressure of living in the heart of the gay community. I just like botany.

Anyhoo, those may look like windowboxes, but let me assure you they're not. According to the manufacturers (and they should know), they're actually Self-Watering Balconnieres. Oh yes. And they're made of the finest terracotta. Well, terracotta-coloured plastic. In addition to being self-watering, they're also apparently frost-resistant, so when I forget to water them for three months and then leave them out all winter, my plants are guaranteed to survive. Unless I knock them onto the basement flats below. Which I just know I'm going to do.

As for the pipe on the left, my Dad fitted that. I think his plumb-line was more of a prune-line, but obviously I'm very grateful.

Anyhoo, the more important news is that my health is now officially taken care of. Yesterday I had my inaugural tooth inspection at a new dentist. He spent about one minute looking in my mouth, and two minutes asking me about Lisa, then having established that he's desperate to meet her (the fool), and made me sign something I wasn't allowed to read, I was handed my x-rays and shoved out the door. I've got to go back in September for two fillings, which was a bit of a shock as I visit my dentist regularly. Exactly once every three years.

With the taste of mouthwash still ringing in my ears (?), I then successfully managed to register with a GP. Which in any other town would be a formality. Unfortunately Brighton is so chock-a-block with hypochondriacs that the first four surgeries I applied to refused to have me on the grounds that they're full. At least that's what they told me. But fortunately I've now found one with more space (or lower standards), and have been taken on by the Ardingly Court Surgery. Here's an artist's impression...

Ardingly Court Surgery
... in real life it's more colourful. But only slightly. And what's more they have a Test-Your-Own-Blood-Pressure machine in the waiting room, which is very exciting. I haven't had so much fun since I got a pregnancy testing kit from the pound shop. Anyhoo, the good news is that my blood pressure is apparently 'optimal'. Well it is in my right arm. God knows what it is in my left. To be honest I'm just glad I tested it after my dentist's appointment and not before.