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Tuesday, September 25, 2007

I took Lisa to the doctor yesterday for her annual service and oil change. As stated here before (on too many occasions to mention), Lisa's GP operates an interesting and forward-thinking appointments system which basically involves stuffing everyone into an overcrowded waiting room... and then refusing to see them. She seems to think that if she ignores her patients, they'll go away. And sometimes they do. I've witnessed people walking out after two and a half hours, claiming they'd rather die of bluetongue than spend another hour waiting.

This is in stark contrast to my own doctor down the road who, in four visits this year, has never kept me waiting long enough to open a copy of Heat magazine. Frankly I queue longer at Asda.

So imagine our delight when we arrived at the surgery yesterday morning to find that there were only two (yes, two) people ahead of us. Either the sea air has cured everyone's ills, or the local population have finally realised just how rubbish Lisa's doctor is, and gone elsewhere. I'd plump for the latter.

Anyhoo, as we sat down, Lisa turned to me and said "well at least we won't have to wait two hours this time". She was right. It was only an hour and a half. I'd like to know how, when most people spend about five minutes in with the doctor, Lisa's GP only manages to get through two patients in ninety minutes. She's probably busy on Facebook. Mind you, this is a woman who once ate a sandwich and rang a mechanic about her car while Lisa and I were in the room with her, so goodness knows what she gets up to when she's alone.

Anyway, having come out of the surgery a great deal older than when I went in, I was cheered up by popping into the local Co-op and finding that it's now Christmas. Technically it might still be three months away, but that hasn't stopped the Co-op putting out their festive range, and encouraging me to buy tins of biscuits with reindeer on them. I stood there thinking "who's going to buy these in September?", only to receive an instant answer - the lady in front of me bought two.

Personally I just bought a copy of The Argus, which yesterday published this fantastic piece of correspondence on their letters page...

47 years old and single.
I'm not entirely sure what her point is, but if you're looking for a 47-year-old single woman who smokes cigarettes and is willing to fast if she has to, Anne's your girl.