As you get older it's inevitable that you spend more time with medical people. Marilyn has an appointment today at the hospital and mine is tomorrow at the next village. Neither of us has anything serious to investigate but the point of the exercise is prevention. I've recently changed the practice I use from one in Westbury, 25 Km away, to a local group with two surgeries, one close by in Longford and the other in Perth, about 10 Km away from us. It's a bit of a lottery which surgery you go to but, if you want a particular doctor, you go to where he (or she) will be.
This time I'm seeing a doctor I haven't seen before, although Marillyn has seen him and was impressed. His name is Hamilton and he was born in Scotland. I wonder whether I'll have an opportunity to tell him that I was born in Hamilton in Scotland, or will that be too tacky? Maybe it will come up in conversation.
It's a beautiful day here. Jamie is coming to take Marilyn to her appointment. I'm perfectly capable of fulfilling that role but, apparently, I'm now being relegated to being 'poor old bugger' who needs to be looked after. That's OK; I have a good book to read and it might be nice enough to sit out in the garden. I might even find a podcast to listen to. I enjoyed the last one about the woman who poisoned her family with mushrooms. I see that they've made a TV program about that. I'll have to watch for it.
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