I walked through the doors to the waiting room at 9.28 a.m. I told the receptionist that I was there to see Dr.Fulton, she checked her records, handed me my folder (they still use paper, how quaint), and told me to go straight down to room eight.
I wander down the corridor, glance at my watch and see it’s now precisely 9.30 a.m. I knock on the door and I’m ushered in.
Two minutes later I’m walking back out of the surgery, having had my mole checked, to await an appointment to have it removed.
I could almost feel the glares of the people who were in the waiting room, who were STILL in the waiting room.
I was *this* close to turning round and saying something but decided better of it… we can’t ALL be special now, can we.
