A couple of days ago, the Doctor and I went hunting.
As a new member of the club, I wanted him to have a good day. And it was. It was a glorious day. It was one of those crisp autumn afternoons, when the birds sang and the sun shone.
We were sitting on a rock, quietly enjoying the scent of the heather and bracken when a buck deer appeared. He was a magnificent specimen. He looked at us in that regal manner that only a buck deer can conjour.
Like lightning, Doc had his rifle up and sighted. He snapped off a quick shot. It was amazing to see the speed of his reaction.
It was a beautiful kill. One shot, straight through the temple. We went down to examine the body. It was a German tourist who had been just about to shoot the deer. B*st*rd! I hate people who kill for pleasure. We left him there for the foxes.
I think Doc is going to be a good addition to the club.
We were heading back, and he told me some of my blood test results were back. He apologised for mixing business with pleasure, but I said that was OK.
Apparently, I have a deficiency in my alcohol levels, and my nicotine count is alarmingly low. He gave me two prescriptions there and then. One is for three pints of Guinness to be taken nightly and the other is for 25 gms of pipe tobacco to be taken daily as required. These can be dispensed at the local pub and the tobacconist, in case the chemist is closed. And they are both covered by the Drug Refund Scheme. So it won’t cost me anything.
When you get older, it is vital to have a good doctor.