Doctor breakdown and the sweet smell of gas

Permanently tired today – must be the result of having an okay Monday yesterday. I’m just not used to it, you know. Still, at least the headache I picked up at Tesco last night with my shopping has finally gone, hurrah! This morning, I got in super-early to work in order to psyche myself up for my Surrey Park Clinic appointment and arrived with loads of time to spare. Goodness, it’s very posh up there – so posh that working out how to get in was a bit of a mystery and in the end I waited for someone else to come out. The same problem arose on the way out, and I was forced to return to reception and beg for the secret code. Which was apparently to press the big green button marked “Press Here to Exit”. Ah well, I’m not very good with words.

Unfortunately however, after all that, the doctor I was supposed to see had broken down in her car so couldn’t make the appointment anyway. So I have rebooked for next week and over the lunchtime period, which is a rather more sensible time to be away from the demands of the desk. And at least I got to sit in a posh reception for a while – heck, I could get used to that!

But the good news is that, as it’s half-term, it meant I could actually get parked back in the University car park without driving round for thirty minutes and sobbing till a space comes free.

Had coffee with Sally at lunchtime and sorted out the woes of the world once more. Now if only they would give the two of us ultimate world power, then everything would be fine. Ho ho. Unless of course they’re trying to get rid of us – this afternoon there’s been a strange but potent smell of gas drifting round the office. I rang Estates & Facilities to ask if this was to be expected or if we were in fact all going to die, but response was there none. Heck, no wonder I’m feeling tired …! Eventual update on this – we’re not going to die (or at least not just yet) as the gas people are lurking round our office doing something strange to the boiler. Apparently we should have received a letter informing us, but obviously it hasn’t yet appeared through the internal mail system. Ah well. The University mail system swallows all but returns nothing indeed.

Oh and here’s a piece of flash fiction – the challenge being to produce something about a sailor, a journey and a pair of ballet shoes:

A change of shoes

Lord Algernon slipped the sequinned ballet shoes from his aching feet and groaned. This was absolutely the last time he played the Good Fairy in the Mission to Seafarers’ Christmas pantomime. Never mind Noblesse Oblige and all that nonsense from his shipyard workers; he’d performed the darn role each year for the last ten years and it was time to pass on the baton. Or, more accurately, the ballet shoes. But to whom?
As the distant roar from the crowds finally subsided, he heard a knock at the dressing room door.
‘Enter!’ he called out, hoping it was his butler arriving with the Dom Perignon.
It wasn’t. Instead of the craggy features and grey hair of Wilkinson, he saw a young man dressed in safari gear and carrying a large rucksack.
‘Uncle Algie!’ the young man cried, unhooking the rucksack and embracing Lord Algernon, fairy costume and all. ‘I’m back!’
‘So I see,’ the noble Lord replied. ‘Did you enjoy your trip, my boy?’
As his nephew began to regale him with tales of fierce lions, angry crocodiles and evil-minded spiders, not to mention the long voyage home, a plan began to form in Lord Algernon’s champagne-sozzled brain. Surely, anything would be better than another year of tiptoeing between various strike factions, dealing with yet more Government regulations and enduring the slow decline of business. And putting up with that damn Christmas fairy.
‘Francis, my boy,’ he cut in as soon as his nephew paused for breath.
‘Yes, uncle?’
‘I have an idea. Seeing as you’re just back from your year out, and therefore completely unemployable, why don’t you take over my role here at the family business? It would look so good on the CV.’
‘Wow, Uncle Algie! That’s wonderful! But what on earth are you going to do?’
‘Ah now, don’t you worry about that,’ Lord Algernon said, passing those pesky ballet shoes to the recently returned sailor and heading for the door. ‘I think it’s high time I went on a voyage of my own, don’t you?’

THE END


Tonight, I’m minuting the next meeting of Goldenford and hoping I have energy enough to keep up the pace set by our Leader. We’ve started planning for our next book, which will be Jacquelynn Luben’s Tainted Tree – a marvellous saga of one American woman’s search for her roots in the UK, and the family secrets she uncovers. Hopefully this will be available sometime during Spring of next year – so watch this space.

And Tony from Myspace has very kindly bought a copy of A Dangerous Man – so thanks for that, Tony, and I hope you enjoy the read. Michael is combing his hair and choosing a clean tee-shirt even as we speak. He does so like to create a good first impression these days. Lordy, but maybe I should go back on those pills again, eh …

Today’s nice things:

1. Sitting in a posh clinic for a while
2. Coffee with Sally
3. Flash fiction.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website