Doctor is just finishing up with his last patient,’ a mumsy-looking woman sitting behind the reception desk says, after I check in at the doctor’s surgery. I push the pump underneath the bottle of antibacterial hand cleanser, mounted on the wall beside the touch-screen computerised appointment system. ‘Ooh, you’re good! Most people don’t bother doing that, and then complain when they catch a cold after coming in here with some totally unrelated ailment.’ The receptionist shakes her head and hands me a form and a black biro. ‘I’ve already filled in your name at the top, but if you can pop your details on as well, please – home address, phone number, that kind of thing, the B&B address as well – we have to know where you’re staying, for the EU thingamajigs.’ She does a tinkly laugh before patting her perm and waving a hand in the air. ‘And your own GP’s details and any medical conditions the doctor will need to know about. Oh, and if you’re taking any medication.
What do You think about The Great Christmas Knit Off?
