WE WON'T KEEP YOU LONG
The room was empty when I arrived. This was unusual because waiting in National Health hospitals had long been a communal activity, if not a particularly sociable one. Perhaps I'd mixed up the time of my appointment. Instead of 9.30, it should have been 3.09.
No, the lady behind the glass at the reception desk, surrounded by many varieties of potted plant, as in an Henri Rousseau painting, certainly had my name in the appointments register, even if someone had cack-handedly written my name as Lewis Desmond instead of Desmond Lewis.
"We won't keep you long," said the lady in the jungle. "Take a seat and we'll call you." I knew I should take what she said with a pinch of salt.
Well, it didn't seem to matter what name she eventually called out, since I was still the only one in the waiting-room. I was bound to know it was me, by the process of elimination.
published 'Purple Patch' 1991
