Sinister: rah

[ribena-queen]

Hello tigers,

Well, despite being on this list for nigh on 6 months (argh) I have so far
failed to post. Why now? Well, I quit college last week, leaving me with
sooo much time I'm scared, and an inbox crammed with sinister digests
screaming to be read. I had so much fun and amusement flicking through them,
mug of ribena in hand, that I was inspired to post myself.

It's amazing that since leaving Exeter College where I felt a complete
retard for two years, I suddenly feel inspired and intelligent. And I've
started using big words that I thought I had forgotten the meaning to. This
seems ridiculous to me. But then I never did things the normal way round. My
mother reliably informs me that as a child I never crawled, but rolled
instead. And I apparently had an odd fixation with the regional news music
(Spotlight, anyone?).

Anyway, in my new enlightened state I went back to see the doctor today.
Aren't Health Centre waiting rooms THE most depressing places in the world??
I have only two strategies to cope the the monotony. One: play "Guess The
Ailment". This failed today as the place was practically empty, and the one
woman who was in there I labelled with flu got up and limped away, much to
my distress. Two: scare small children. This also failed because there was
only one child there; Leah Elder. And she scares ME by looking like a 6 year
old Melanie Healey (who incidentally I saw in an old Men Behaving Badly the
other day, complete with freaky fringe and out on a mish for Marlboro red.
Classy girl.). If anyone can suggest any other ways for coping with doctor's
waiting rooms I'd be glad to hear them. Our Health Centre is so bad I can't
bear to go too often, so very often I save up my illnesses and go in with a
kind of shopping list to see the only nice doctor (who is only available
every two weeks or something ridiculous). On the agenda this time were a
repeat prescription, two ingrowing toenails and my left ear which needs
syringing. Nice. I really really hate having that done, bent over a kidney
bowl while the nurse brandishes a pneumatic water shooter saying "Tell me if
it feels uncomfortable, won't you love?". Argh. Adam made it particularly
unpleasant for me by likening the contents of the kidney bowl afterwards to
the left over bits in deep fat fryers. I will never look at a piece of
battered cod the same again.

I came home and panicked about my sister who was supposed to have returned
from "babmington" [sic] at 5. She's probably lost a shoe. So now I'll sit
here and panic about whether I've managed to ingratiate myself into your
society of cliqueiness instead of worrying about her.

Only one more thing to say. Ribena. Godlike. Unrivalled. No arguments.

I got caught in a freak rain shower on the way home. I think I deserved it.

Love and ribena stains,
Lucy
xoxo

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