NHS: FAIL

I'm feeling conspired against. Appointment to see the Doctor (no, not The Doctor, sadly) at 1610h. I was in a panic about being late but them, as it transpired, actually arrived twenty minutes early. Not wanting to spend twenty minutes sitting in a stuffy waiting room - especially as I had just finished my book on the bus - I wandered about a bit, finally getting bored enough to go in and have a seat about 1600h.

In the play area were two boys, probably about Primary 1. They were playing with a good old-fashioned toy made of bendy metal and wooden beads. The game at hand appeared to be a race: each pushing a bead from the top and seeing whose reached the bottom first. When boy A won, boy B tutted and turned the toy around - impressive! thought I, he's making sure that there wasn't some mechanical bias, or maybe hoping to win next time. Second try, boy A wins again. Boy B decides they should thy two beads at once. By this point I'm very impressed by his gamesmanship. Boy A wins a third time. Boy B announces that boy A should try it with three beads, at which boy A huffs off shouting that boy B is a cheater. Now, I'm not a great sportsman, but did boy B not just grasp instinctively he concept behind a Handicap in golf? And did boy A then very simply deconstruct this concept, showing it to be flawed and thus effectively demonstrating that the 'sport' is really, truly, not that there was ever boy doubt, POINTLESS?

Out of the mouths of babes...

So there I am, waiting. And waiting. I play on the DS for a while, but I really need a good book or something watchable on my phone. Boy B wanders past, stopping just within my peripheral vision, and watches. His mother calls him but he's clearly more engrossed in the game than I am. With a final cry of "But look at the game!" he is dragged away.

A further ten minutes pass. It is now 1620h. I've become bored of gaming (for the moment, not for all time!) and put the DS away. National Geographic and Saga Magazine hold no appeal. The air is beginning to feel oppressive, the low-ceilinged fluorescent lights are gradually giving me a pain behind my left eye. Someone is taken away by a Doctor, the only remaining person who had been here longer than I. A snatch of conversation from the Doctor, suggesting that there have been delays today and apologising for the wait.

Another ten minutes. I feel on guilt about having my phone on, despite the big notices around the place, because I've set it to offline and, frankly, if anyone is likely to die because there's a bit of semiconductor tech in the vicinity then they're probably dead already. But this means I can't, say, wander the internet. In spite of the schemie girl whose raucous ringtone went off and the yah girl who just answered a call... Dammit I'm going to speak to someone!