I sat in Newark Hospital waiting for my appointment after dashing like a madman to get there. I'd been blocked in by lorries, frustrated by every red light imaginable and ended up pulling my hair out trying to find a parking space and the right department.
My feathers were ruffled as I eventually sat and picked up a magazine to read an article that had caught my eye on the cover. I had two minutes to spare. Page 56 didn't exist; someone had torn the article out...along with every other article I had an interest in. I ended up reading a true story which had its concluding few paragraphs on the back of yet another article that had been torn out.
I'm a person who tears things out of waiting-room periodicals so I couldn't really complain. It was the worst case I've ever come across though.
Twenty-five minutes later I was called to sit in a smaller waiting room. Ten minutes later I was expected to smile and be civil with the specialist who happened to be a stand-in for the man I was expecting to see. He'd supped his coffee while I sat outside and it wasn't even 11:00am. I was quite proud of myself for the obvious self control mustered from somewhere.
The evening was supposed to have been spent digging the garden ready to plant some veg but the rain forced us indoors. The rest of the time was spent trying to communicate with an estate agent in France.
Thanks Martin & Colette for all your help.