I’m sitting here in this lay-by, watching the world go by. Cars speeding past, the driver on their way home or who knows where. Trucks thundering along hauling tomorrow’s goods for the shops. My mind wanders to and fro. Not really thinking of anything in particular for a change, just random thoughts.
My mind can be a beautiful place these days, although I still have to use my EMDR techniques every now and then to fight off the demons. But overall yes, a peaceful delicious place.
It doesn’t take a lot to tip the banananana basket though. That’s not right is it. Cherry trailer? Tea trolley? Whatever, it doesn’t take a lot to upset the balance. I had a text the other day to call my doctors surgery. At one minute to five on Friday. So after waiting all weekend I called them at 1215 on Monday. A recorded message said they’re closed for lunch until two pm. Two hours for fucking lunch? Fuuuuuck me! It’s times like this I wish I tried harder at school instead of spending most of the time dropping things on the floor to sneak a peak up the new girls skirt or hiding in the toilets from the bullies because they’d punched me in the guts so hard I’d pissed myself.
Today I eventually got through after an hour wait to be told “ah Mr Davis. We’re detracting you from our list as you no longer live in the area.” What does that mean? Detracting me from the list?
“Hi erm I do live in the area actually”
“Well we have good information that your address is now out of the catchment area for this surgery so you shall be detracted in 26 days.”
“Ok Columbo, firstly please stop saying ‘detract’ as you’re using it in the wrong context. Secondly, that’s my daughters address and it’s a care of address. I actually live in my camper van and I actually live in the carpark about 100 yards from the surgery. So yes I do live in the catchment area.”
Completely unfazed she whipped back “No you don’t. You need to register with a surgery in the catchment area that your address is in, care of or not”
“Right. So you’re discriminating against me then. Because I don’t have a full time address you…”
“I’m sorry Mr Davis. You’re being aggressive and I’m ending this call.”
“I hope you burn your dinner tonight” I shouted back but it was too late. The line was dead.
Well that was my pineapple parade properly pissed on. I’ve recently been diagnosed with coronary heart disease, on top of all my pancreas problems. Now I’ve got to find a new doctors and go through all the bullshit again, go over everything I’ve been through, them just sat there looking at me like I’m a nut job. My peaceful mind was now at war with itself. Thoughts of driving my army of tanks right through the surgery were quickly followed by thoughts of “I don’t own any bloody tanks.” “Or an army.”
Anyway, I’m still pissed at that phone call. I’ve now got a massive headache. And to top it off I just got blue balls from splash back from my toilet that needs emptying, which I forgot to do today. And I burned my own dinner. It’s like the surgery receptionist heard me and reversed my curse. Good job I didn’t curse her undercarriage with the fleas of one thousand camels…
"Spoonfeed" is the longest English word with its letters in reverse alphabetical order!