Recently I went to the pharmacy to get some Corenza (which, for my overseas readers, is medicine for colds & flu). But I ended up asking the pharmacist for Corega (which is a denture adhesive! Those of you who have read my previous blog on Selective Verbal Dyslexia will understand why I did this.) Realizing my error, I flashed the amused pharmacist my best non-false teeth smile and valiantly pressed ahead to correct my order. But I am getting ahead of myself here. This was at 9:04am - let’s go back a few minutes to 8:57am when things got really interesting.
8.57am: I walk down to the pharmacy and use my ninja-like heightened sense of perception to work out that the pharmacy is currently closed. There are 5 people milling around outside the closed pharmacy including an elderly woman who is standing REALLY close to the glass door.
8.58am: The old lady looks pointedly at her watch, releases a loud sigh of frustration, and peers around at us to check that we all know the pharmacy door is thoroughly closed in clear violation of her preferences.
8.59am: The old lady steps even closer to the door. Her nose is now flattened against the glass in order to clearly declare to the security guard inside that she is standing as close to their front door as the laws of physics allow. She raises her wrist and taps her wristwatch repeatedly which prompts the security guard to do absolutely nothing. She has succeeded in merely creating a nose-shaped smudge on the (still-closed) pharmacy door.
9.00am: Nothing happens.
9.01am: The old lady declares her acute dissatisfaction with the security guard by huffing and puffing loudly. Her breath is now steaming up the door and obscuring her death-glare at him. She stamps her green-cross clad foot twice for additional effect.
9.02am: By now the old lady is either having a self-induced heart attack or an ant colony has just moved into her under-drawers. Reluctantly the security guard unlocks the door and slowly begins sliding it open (I am using the word “slowly” here in the sense of “not really”).
9.02.04am: In a tasteful display of impatience the old lady squeezes her plump body through the 7cm gap between the opening door and doorframe and wipes the security guard along the wall in the process.
9.03am: The rest of us wait patiently for the door to open fully and enter the pharmacy like the non-crazed humans we are. The old lady is already at the check out.
This granny was either making the most of every minute of her day or there was a sale on doilies that she had to be first in line for. And it got me thinking that even though I’m not entirely sure of what the purpose of a doily is, I’m confident that Lady Gaga could make a very interesting outfit out of them. I also thought I could probably make more use of my time on this planet; maybe there are some closed doors in my life that I need to put my nose-shaped imprint on. So I’m going to stop writing this blog post now: I’ve got some Diem to Carpe.
8.57am: I walk down to the pharmacy and use my ninja-like heightened sense of perception to work out that the pharmacy is currently closed. There are 5 people milling around outside the closed pharmacy including an elderly woman who is standing REALLY close to the glass door.
8.58am: The old lady looks pointedly at her watch, releases a loud sigh of frustration, and peers around at us to check that we all know the pharmacy door is thoroughly closed in clear violation of her preferences.
8.59am: The old lady steps even closer to the door. Her nose is now flattened against the glass in order to clearly declare to the security guard inside that she is standing as close to their front door as the laws of physics allow. She raises her wrist and taps her wristwatch repeatedly which prompts the security guard to do absolutely nothing. She has succeeded in merely creating a nose-shaped smudge on the (still-closed) pharmacy door.
9.00am: Nothing happens.
9.01am: The old lady declares her acute dissatisfaction with the security guard by huffing and puffing loudly. Her breath is now steaming up the door and obscuring her death-glare at him. She stamps her green-cross clad foot twice for additional effect.
9.02am: By now the old lady is either having a self-induced heart attack or an ant colony has just moved into her under-drawers. Reluctantly the security guard unlocks the door and slowly begins sliding it open (I am using the word “slowly” here in the sense of “not really”).
9.02.04am: In a tasteful display of impatience the old lady squeezes her plump body through the 7cm gap between the opening door and doorframe and wipes the security guard along the wall in the process.
9.03am: The rest of us wait patiently for the door to open fully and enter the pharmacy like the non-crazed humans we are. The old lady is already at the check out.
This granny was either making the most of every minute of her day or there was a sale on doilies that she had to be first in line for. And it got me thinking that even though I’m not entirely sure of what the purpose of a doily is, I’m confident that Lady Gaga could make a very interesting outfit out of them. I also thought I could probably make more use of my time on this planet; maybe there are some closed doors in my life that I need to put my nose-shaped imprint on. So I’m going to stop writing this blog post now: I’ve got some Diem to Carpe.
Jules this is so funny, well done x
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