Smile...

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A lot of people have been very kind and helpful over the past couple of weeks.  Examples have been simple texts asking me how I am faring, right through to friends plying the husband with beer when the care of his wife just got too much to bear.

So today, having had a great week (or 80% of one) at Binland, I decided that I would do my best to be kind to anyone I came across for the rest of the day.

My first opportunity came at the doctors' surgery, where a nipping in was planned to collect some drugs (of the legal kind you'll be relieved to hear).  Some years ago, my local surgery changed their devil may care car park for something more regimental with a ticket machine.  Now I tend to pick my time very carefully when I go to the surgery, avoiding the OAP rush hours between 8.30 and 12.30, and the coughing kid school run after 3.00.  This leaves a window of opportunity of around thirty minutes when the car park is quiet, and I can run in and pick up my medicines without getting the required 'free thirty minute' ticket.  I know, I know, but by the time I get the blinking ticket, I could have collected my medicines and had a bit of small talk with Adolf on reception (she needs to get rid of that moustache, and as for the jackboots, well...)

I messed up today though, and got there just as the car park was getting busy.  Doing a swift recce I noticed the parking attendant, and reluctantly went and got a ticket.

The dispensary was busy, and I joined the queue, smiling at everyone around me in an attempt to spread a bit of happiness.

Five minutes in, I hadn't moved, and a lady had joined the queue.  She was obviously in a rush (the huffing, puffing and sighing were a dead giveaway), and turning round, I said to her that she could take my place in the queue if she was in a rush.

Which she did, but not before she told me that it was just as well she was going to be seen a bit quicker as she was parking in a Disabled Parking space.

Well.  Now I was torn.  Between retracting my kind offer or kicking her in the shins (I hate people who do that).  But I didn't, and I watched her go as the pharmacist got my drugs ready.

Still seething, I left the surgery where she was standing next to her car, still parked in the disabled bay, where she was chatting to the car park attendant.  Silently thanking the patron saint of ticket machines, I raised my eyebrows in a pseudo caring way. 'Not out quick enough then?' I asked.  

'Oh no', she said, waving to the attendant as he wandered off (without giving her a ticket), ' that's my brother'.

I don't know why I bothered...


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