The weight of the world
Here I am living the simple quiet life of a pensioner.
When all of a sudden a whole series of things come along like a convoy of fucking buses.
Instead of a quiet Monday morning, I found myself up to my neck in website problems. These aren’t your common or garden the-server-has-just-blown-up type problems, but more the kind of problems where even Google is fuck all use, as it has never heard of them. And to make matters worse, these problems are only affecting foreigners – Africa and Central America for fucks sake!
So there I was up to my neck in scraps of coding with bits of files all over the floor when I suddenly remembered I had an appointment to see Doc. What was worse, I couldn’t remember then whether the appointment was for a quarter to, or a quarter past. So I went down to the animal hospital clinic at a quarter to, and found the place deserted. I stood outside and enjoyed a pipefull for a few minutes and then went back in, to be greeted with the site of Doc trying to sneak out the back door.
Anyhows, having caught him, I demanded my appointment, because if I didn’t have it then I wouldn’t get a new prescription and I would be back to arguing with the chemist in the pharmacy all over again. [*when did chemists become pharmacists, and why?*]
So we had a long chat, as I believe in getting my money’s worth. We established that I was indeed still alive, and that I still had a few miles left to run on the clock [I pointed out to him that my bus-pass was valid until 2032 and he reckoned that was about right]. As usual he asked if I was still on the pipe, and I said I was indeed. He asked how much I smoked, and I said the usual amount, which confused him a bit. I don’t know why he asks, because he never suggests that I stop or even cut back. Maybe it’s part of his contract or something?
We chatted on about things like Restless Legs and whether it’s better to have shares in Big Pharma or Big Tobacco [he reckons Tobacco, but I’m not so sure]. We discussed exercise and growing old. We debated blood donations and the responsibilities of running a household. We covered quite a bit of ground, and I damn near forgot to ask for my prescription. Got it I did, so dropped into the chemist [pharmacy] and then went for a coffee while they mixed up their potions.
In the coffee shop I met one of my pals and we got talking politics and who was up to what in the village. Between Doc and the coffee shop, I was having to think quite a lot. I certainly covered a wild range of topics.
Finally I got home.
Time to relax?
Not a bit of it.
Those fucking web servers are still acting the mick.
I don’t know how it is for you getting an appointment, but our great and glorious NHS puts so many hurdles in the way that you have to get sick by appointment some two weeks in advance if you want to see a GP here – that or be at Death’s door and beg them to phone you back. All to do with the Tiny Blur’s idiotic targets requiring people to have appointments within 48 hours or some such. Anyway, what we have is an example of unintended consequences. In France, you just rock up at the surgery and wait your turn. Much more civilized.
I phoned at around ten and got an appointment after lunch. I could have gone down there and then and waited with the Plebs [no appointment necessary in the mornings]. It’s one of the great advantages in living in a village, and also the fact that he’s a vet doing a sideline helps.
Local medicine is fine here, but if you need a hospital, you’re fucked. There are horrendous waiting lists and you’d be lucky to get called within a year. You’d be even luckier to get back out in one piece. We crave a Third World health service here.