Anyway, writing something light-hearted and blog-worthy is probably a bit like jumping back on the proverbial horse after you've been booted off it (although I would never give a horse the opportunity to boot me off, which totally isn't the point). Anyway, I have to share this piece of exciting news. Well, exciting in a relative sense. It's not quite as exciting as winning the lottery (which I did, although I only won £8), but more exciting than getting home to find you have a parcel (which is supremely disappointing when you discover that said parcel is the mobile phone you ordered and not a surprise). In short, it is medium-exciting. Well, actually, medium to low,which raises the question, why am I bothering to share this with you? The answer: I don't really know. It's just something to talk about.
So, after all that build up, you will all no doubt be thrilled to know that the tardis saga has reached a happy conclusion. I have a letter from the Scratch and Stare Doctors (I don't think they are actually called that, I just can't be bothered to reach over to the coffee table to find out what they are actually called). Anyway, I digress. The letter proudly informs me that I am "normal" (whatever that means). I presume it means that the fugitive hiding in my tardis is no longer armed and dangerous (personally, I like to think he/she is carrying out a meaningful hermitage, looking for some greater truth and such like). I am quite pleased by this in the strictly tardis related sense, but also thrilled on a more personal level. Never before have I been referred to as "normal". It is an important moment in my life. In fact, I'm so thrilled, I may have to frame it.
Update: I spoke to our friend CA tonight. She had her "bits" referred to as a vault, in writing from one medical professional to another. If we were playing tardis top trumps, she would win. Hands / vault down!!!
2 comments:
The experience that stands out in my mind is Mr Scary Gynaecologist standing at the Tardis end with an implement in his hands that looked scarily like a pair of barbecue tongs saying to his student "oh my goodness what on earth is that?". Not a good moment!
ARGH! Jill B, that is not good at all. I hate how all the scary Doctors talk to your tardis. You feel like giving a little wave and shouting "hello, I'm up here". :D
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