One of my items to get crossed off my to-do list upon arrival here was to register the boys and I with the local doctor’s surgery.
It was all very easy.
Perhaps a little too easy.
I was already in the system so to speak as an old patient and all I needed to get my boys set up was to bring in their passports for identification purposes. The next step was an initial appointment with the nurse to get our records established or re-established in my case.
So, the other day the boys and I trooped off to the surgery and met with the rather surly nurse for said appointment. It all went nice and smoothly … until we got to my little question and answer session. When the nurse asked how many alcoholic beverages I consumed a week, I honestly replied just a couple of glasses of wine or lager. However, I heard what could only be described as muffled gasps from the peanut gallery behind me. Followed by sniggering and a mumblings along the lines of “eh … doesn’t she mean a night?’
The little jesters. How very dare they?
Needless to say I turned around and glared at them with my best mean mum face.
I’m not sure if the nurse heard or even noticed, but I was more than a little red-faced and maybe a bit too smiley and apologetic for the rest of the appointment. I mean, I know it was all tongue in cheek, but she didn’t. And, I wonder if she’ll remember when I have to go in there next.