As we hurtle towards Christmas and the inevitable five course, alcohol drenched, twelve thousand calorie family reunion, I thought I would have a general check up on my health. If I am going to sit down to my forty ninth Christmas belt straining exercise, I want to know that I have a chance of seeing New Year. It must be said that I sit a little lower in the water these days, my shadow grows no less. In fact, if I lived in the city centre of Plymouth, someone by now would have torn me down and put up a block of flats.
It’s not easy in my world as a big part of my work revolves around restaurants, openings, receptions and especially at this time of year, parties. If I lined up the vol-u-vents end to end that I have had already this month, I could build a hand rail to the moon. Three restaurant openings, two after dinner speeches and even an invitation to go to the opera in North Devon, not a great favourite entertainment of mine but I willingly accepted, as there is a fair chance that I won’t be the fattest bloke there on the night!
Any road, on visiting the doctors, it was decided that I should have a chest x-ray, mainly because I assume the NHS want to confirm that I am not turning into a woman. I have started to wear a sports bra when playing golf! It not only improves my swing but I can actually see the ball when teeing up.
The downside of this sudden interest in my health was, that in order to have the x-ray, I had to visit that medieval theme park called Derriford Hospital in Plymouth. I chose a day when ship builders were collecting two of each species and ramming them into the hold. I also chose to go at ten o’clock in the morning when the nearest parking space was on the edge of Dartmoor. So drenched, and three pounds lighter, not physically but in the parking ticket department, I entered reception and headed for x-ray. I almost made it! Suddenly, the fire alarm sounded and we were all ejected. It must have been serious as I thought I saw a cleaner move.
After a little more drenching among the fag smokers at the front of the building, we were all allowed back in and then back to x-ray and then…. to Out Patients, where I should have gone in the first place.
To my surprise, and all credit to Out Patients, it was over and done within fifteen minutes and I was back out into the monsoon… sooner that I thought! But I had paid for four hours parking! Even taking into consideration the half hour walk back to my vehicle, I still had a valuable piece of sticky paper in my hands. I know, I thought, offer it to a fellow traveller, a kind gesture…it’s nearly Christmas. But of course in order to get it in the first place, I had to enter my 09 registration on my parking ticket and thus had to wait for another 09 car to enter the car park…….so to Derriford security…that’s what I was doing in the pouring rain, in a filthy mack, hanging around the car park, bending down at car windows and talking to strangers……honest!
Fitz
