Tag Archives: #waitingroom

Another Waiter in Another Waiting Room.

Another Waiter in Another Waiting Room.

Waiting in the Waiting Room

for a fish to bite;

if you know what I mean –

which, you being you,

you probably don’t;

but, I won’t explain.

as explanations are unnecessary,

and altogether distracting.

So, not an ‘actual’ Waiting Room;

and not waiting for a fish to bite me; nor am I really waiting for anything in particular –

my words have arrived,

and I am doing with them what I do.

Then I shall pass them on to you.

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In the room where people wait.

Waiting in a room

named for that purpose

with all the patients

waiting patiently

of course.

After the person who is next

after the person who is next

and after the three people before him

who are also next to the person next to them.

Books and magazines to read;

although most are too hi-Brow for a boy like me.

The Rupert annual is calling;

People’s Friend 2015 is not.

Shall I read of the adventures

of Rupert and…

here I pause…

It’s been a while since I read of Rupert and his chums,

and I think that I have forgotten their names.

Perhaps Edgar is one –

perhaps not.

Chi-Chi has a vague possibility, and there is an elephant, a badger…

Oh, dear! My Rupert knowledge has gone from all to very little.

All I know is that he wears a yellow-checked scarf, yellow-checked trousers, red jumper and shoes. As most bears (if not all bears) don’t.

I shall have to swot up and refresh my memories.

Whatever happened to Nostalgia?

Waiting Room Woes 1

Waiting Room

I don’t know about you (I really don’t)

But, I find Waiting Rooms depressing;

People stressing, worried about undressing for the doctor (or is that just me?)

You see, I saw a lady doctor last time I was here when I was expecting…

expecting to see a man doctor!

Well, I didn’t realise until the Display Screen in the Waiting Room ran through the staff, I mean…

Doctor Ellvick (I’ve changed Dr Elliot’s name to save her blushes) was a woman, with a woman’s hands and fingers!

Well, the memory lingers.

I apologised for being a man, for being me, for being!

You see, I am of a nervous disposition at the best of times and at the worst of times.

There are patients to the left of me, patients to the right of me, but too few, by far, in front of me!

They’ll call my name in a minute, and I will walk the walk of shame to the room of unease, please let me be the recipient of a miracle cure right here, right now.

“Graeme Sandford?” she calls.

Wish me luck; G give me strength. I say (inwardly)

Is it too late to DNA?