Everyone should spend an hour in A & E to reaffirm their self-love and redress the balance of smiles over scowls. It very effectively quashes the niggling, maggoty itches of irritation with your life and your lot as it thrusts you deep inside the lives of those who are a lot more fucked than you are.
'Hi honey' a *junkie drawls languidly as I pass. Oh God.
Taking my Colles fractured wrist and Phillip Roth with me, the barking receptionist at Royal Barts Accident and Emergency room appraises me testily and does her best to ignore my politeness. The collection of poor souls collected here on this uncharacteristically sunny Friday - exactly a week since the fated Friday 13th incident - are, for the most part, in more pain than me and wretchedly moaning.
I crave health, sun, freedom and a friendly face/gin and tonic. I have a sudden burning lust for my life and it's populace. Being immobilized is a worthy - if annoying - exercise in appreciation of the simple things and the delay of my gratification is necessary to bang this particular lesson where it belongs - in my face. When the fun and the freedom finally arrive it will taste all the sweeter.
*An assumption, a hasty jump to conclusion and a vastly unfair stereotype. But I'm the boss.
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A record of the way things sometimes are.
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