Funny old mix.
I've just been to the doctor - yes, I actually managed to get an appointment to something called a hub but not before disclosing that I was having trouble breathing and may be in need of oxygen-fueled resuscitation.
Usual crap on arrival. Greeted with "We don't seem to have you on our system". They never do. Cock-up by my medical practice who sent me an incorrect message to go to, what turned out to be, the wrong hub.
I tried showing them the text I had received to no avail until a GP who, serendipitously, was standing behind the receptionist came to the rescue. Hearing my plight she looked up, recognised me, and actually remembered that this had happened last time. Taking pity on me she said, I'll see you now and ushered me into her consultation room. She was a life-saver and had been at my last visit when I had received a text from my surgery to make an appointment IMMEDIATELY following some blood tests ... which I did only to hear, on arrival, that they hadn't forwarded my test results and therefore could tell me nothing. Not only that but they were on 'different systems' so even if they had she wouldn't have been able to have read them on her PC. You couldn't make it up. Oh, how I laughed at yet another one of their funny little cock-ups.
I came away with a diagnosis of Bronchitis , a prescription for anti-biotics, rarer than hen's teeth these days, and an inhaler ... "as it was the Bank Holiday" - this said as if it was a special treat like a 99 Mr Whippy.
Meanwhile, back at the Building Site which is how I now refer to our road thanks to the myraid 'essential' projects that are going on in neighbours' houses ( Orangangeries FFS, Outdoor Kitchens, basement swimming pools - essential works obvs ) I pull into our driveway to find that the Fuckwits opposite have clearly bribed the Council to come and give them a brand spanking new shiny pavement outside their newly built pleasure palace of a house which they have squeezed onto a plot the size of a doormat. Funny how their request was seen to by the Council immediately whereas their long-sufferring neighbour, who recently had a stroke and has difficulty getting out of the driveway due to limited mobility, was fobbed off with the remnants of the tarmac scrap used to repair the holes left by the Pleasure Palace people's builders.
Talking of Pleasure Palace house projects, my husband's nephew has just called to ask him to help with his elderly parent's house move next week. Apparanetly he can't be there himself because he's having a million pound deluxe makeover on his own house down the road. Probably, the bespoke sauna they've spashed the cash on ( but they're very very broke apparently - so much so that they were only able to go ONE week's skiing holiday with their kids this year ) is being delivered on the same day and they're also having a 'bit of mare' with their built-in pantry room so he has to be there to see to it all.
So, that means I'll be left to do the run from here to Essex , with a carboot full of cast off pots and pans and a mish-mash of leftover crockery, where our eldest son is moving in with his girlfriend on the very same day that David will be covering for his nephew, wheezing my way round the M25 with an inhaler strapped to my face.
Happy Days
