On Friday, just as J was starting her trip from England to Kenya, she’d left me with instructions to take Kitty to the doctors. I duly turned up at the appointed hour of 11am and at 11.30 he appeared in the waiting room and looked at me quizzically – ‘who ah you?’ ‘I’m Mr Evans’, I said (it’s easier being somebody I’m not with this doctor). ‘Ah – come in’. There seemed to be a glimmer of recognition. Anyway, once in his room, I was just about to question his timekeeping when he spotted the cigarettes coming out of my pocket as I looked for the Carte Vitale (Health card) and he started lecturing me on smoking. It took me back to the last time I was in his surgery – 18 months ago when I blogged about it thus …….
Ever since I challenged J to get back into her wedding dress there’s been a marked change in the household. She now walks to the village (
So it was with some degree of shardenfreude on my part that she returned from a walk the other day with a poorly ankle. Having set out to walk
After an afternoon resting with a bottle of champagne beside the bed (yes – those of you who know her will recognise the post operative care she demands) she decided to call the local doctor to get a brace. I was told (not asked) to go to the doctors the next morning at 9am sharp to pick up a prescription for the said brace and to be on the safe side I got there at 8.50am. There was a rather tasty woman in the waiting room so the usual wait to be called was not too onerous. I kept thinking about how lucky the doctor was if she had ……no – let’s not go there.
Anyway, at I was called in. Doctor Fang is Vietnamese and speaks a little English so he was a bit surprised when he called Mrs Evans’ name (she’s not decided how long she’ll stay with me so hasn’t changed her name yet) and I stood up. ‘Ah you Mr Evans’, he said. ‘Nope – I’m Mr Cupples’, I replied. He called out ‘Mrs Evans’ again and I explained that I was her carer and had come for the prescription.
He ushered me into his little room (just big enough to swing a cat and no more) and immediately laid into me. I won’t bother with the quotes but here goes… You Engrish – you come ovah here an sink you can juss order us docors alound. You sink you can juss phone up an order plescliptions like you do in Engrand and we just han them over. All you want is this bit of paper (pointing to his prescription pad) so you can get leimbursed. I don know what sort of injuly Mrs Evans has – I could give her wong fing and then you sue me. This is not light – not collect plocedure. I could see his English was struggling at this point so I started on him.
Risten, I’m only the carer so don’t have a go at me. If you are not comfortable don’t do it. I’ll drag the poor rady in here so you can see for yourself. And another thing – I’m not Engrish so don’t go there. If you don’t want to lite a plescliption don’t do it. And another fling – if you so much as ask her to take her crothes off I’ll come down here with my rawyer – ok ?
He replied – ‘you taking the piss’. I smiled and reft….sorry….left.
Later that morning J had to go back to his surgery where she had to take all her clothes off to have her ankle examined. He gave her a prescription for a brace. C’est la vie.