Also known as “Thursday”.
WAH! Today did NOT go as I had planned. I woke up around 7:30 am and thought to myself “I’ve been putting off getting my birth control prescription refilled for too long. I will go down to the walk-in clinic as soon as they open and hope that I can be seen early”. I looked up the times on a NHS website, which said the clinic would open at 10 am. The clinic is just a 10-15 minutes walk from our flat. I went down, but when I arrived it turned out that the clinic didn’t open until 11 am. This was written on the leaflet they had on display in the reception, but not on the website, which was annoying.
It didn’t bother me too much though, as I decided to go to Nero and get a cup of coffee before sitting down in the waiting area. I had expected to have to wait an hour or so, so I had brought Anathem, a book I’m currently reading. At 11 am, the receptionist came and around 7 people started to flock around the reception. I knew I had been there before some of them, but didn’t really attempt to get in front since I thought we were few enough that it didn’t matter. One nice woman was kind enough to point out to the receptionist that I had been there before her.
Anyway, I really should have been quicker because I had to wait for aaages. There was a note in the clinic saying that “it may appear like patients are called out of order”. No fucking shit! I have no idea what the system was, but it certainly wasn’t chronological. I think I waited almost 3 ½ hours. When I finally saw the doctor she explained that it had to do with the new computer system, which is an reasonable explanation, but it just pisses me off that no one took the time to explain this to everyone in the clinic. If someone tells you “You will probably have to wait 3 hours before you will be seen”, then you are prepared for it. I waited and waited and didn’t know if I would dare to leave to go to the bathroom or the reception out of fear that they might call my name while I was gone. GRR!
Once I finally got out of the clinic with my pills, it had started hailing. It’s been weird weather recently. My boyfriend Tom has said all winter “Just you wait! It’s going to snow!” The last time he said it was a couple of weeks ago, when I yelled “OH GIVE IT UP IT’S 19C AND SUNNY! IT’S NOT GOING TO SNOW!” Of course it started snowing yesterday. Get a grip, England. Anyway, by the time I was out of the clinic I was starving. My original plan had been to go down to the clinic, get pills, go back home for lunch and then back into town for shopping. I ended up getting a panini and walking around the mall window shopping.
I literally window shop when it comes to jewellery. It just looks so expensive and serious that I never actually enter the shops themselves, I just stand outside looking in. I would totally buy myself expensive jewellery if I didn’t feel like I had to justify it to other people. I’ve been enamoured with Coeur de Lion necklaces lately, which go for about £100. I have the money to buy it, but every time I give it some serious thought I end up feeling guilty because “But that’s more than twice what I spent on a gift for x, y or z”.
I did get a small handbag for £27. It was in one of those weird shops where the shop assistants are overly keen to help you and at least 3 of them approaches you and asks you if you need any help. I had been looking at two bags and ended up putting one of them back. I had switched a bag that I had picked up for one that was a bit further down on the row, since the one I had picked up had a stitch that had come undone. I don’t know if one of the shops assistants saw this, because she approached me and said “Would you like me to get a new one for you?” to which I confusedly replied “… what, is this one not new?”. She said that she could get one that hadn’t been fingered by other customers. I said, uh, sure. I’ve never had anyone ask me that before. It’s a very strange offer which begs the question, how filthy are their customers’ fingers that they need to go down to the storage to get an untouched bag to sell? I should point out that the one I had wasn’t a display bag, there was four or five of the same bag on the shelf. Maybe it’s a normal thing shops keepers do, but it left me flabbergasted. Man, I’ve been dying to use that word!
Above image displays an untouched, virgin bag.