...Back in the Shire

WARNING: This blog contains information of a sensitive nature.

So I went to Somerset for the week, and seeing as I haven't got round to actually registering with an NHS doctor in the four years that I've lived in London, I thought I'd make the most of the practice that I was still a member of and get something checked out.

When I was away in Canada, the immense heat irritated a sweat rash that I had developed around my inner thighs. That's a nice way of saying my testicles. Bollocks. Nuts. It's been quite painful, so I wanted to see if they could give me some 'jockey itch cream', as my friend calls it.

I arrived. Smiled. And the lady led me towards a room. It wasn't the usual room that I go to, and I soon realised why, when the lady said, 'your doctor's ill today, so you'll be seeing a stand-in, okay?'

...right...

The lady opened the door to reveal the most gorgeous young doctor in the history of medicine. To which I said out loud...'oh for fff...'

She must have just graduated from med-school because she was definitely younger than I. There was a second when we looked into each others eyes. She didn't know what was coming. I bloody well did.

So I sat, and she asked me what the problem was. I wanted to say 'your age and beauty, sweet cheeks' but didn't.

I told her the issue I was having with my bollock n thigh. We both knew that it was only a matter of seconds before the big question came, although, bless her heart, she did try to fill the time with some ridiculous questions just to prolong.

And then....

...'Do you mind if I take a look?'

...'No, be my guest(!)'

...'Oooh, impressive!' (she may not have said those exact words)

I bent over and, at one point, remember lifting one leg slightly off the ground. I looked like a dog relieving itself.

But she gave me some cream and it's actually doing the trick.

Bridgy

I'm back in Somerset for the week.

What's the thing I miss most about living here?

Hard choice, but I think it has to be the pet cat that does the most disgracefully smelly farts.

Taglines

I had to blog about this thing I saw today.

Everywhere you look in London, you will see advertisements for the latest movies being shown in cinemas across the capital. These movies will always have a picture of the star, the title of the film in BIG PRINT, and then at the bottom you will have a tag line describing the film in a snappy short sentence.

Nothing makes my blood curdle more than tag lines. Not just because they shorten a two hour experience into a 10 word sentence to cater for the world's decreasing attention span, but because 90 per-cent of the one's I read are so ludicrously uncreative, I wonder if the marketing company have a dribbling Labrador locked away in a darkened room that they bring out whenever it's time to write a new one.

But the one I read today surely has to be the worst in the long and glorious history of cinema. It's for the new G.I. Joe movie.

Get ready...

Here we go...

'When all else fails....they won't'

What. The hell. Is that?

Slowly but surely, I am returning to normality.

My transition back into London life wasn't helped by a trip to my favourite Starbucks. We've been together (on and off) for six years now, and she understands my frustrations as much as anyone.

I walked in to discover that the place had been completely redecorated, and held none of its former glory.

But I'm feeling better now. No doctor needed, which is not what I thought a couple days back.

Blighty

I flew back into Gatwick yesterday morning and have felt very depressed ever since.

All of yesterday I was under the heavy weight of the holiday blues and have been evaluating the decision I made four years ago to move to London. Is this a city/country/world for the optimist?

I was about to throw in the towel on the whole idea until I saw something yesterday that offered me a glimmer of hope.

Just as I was arriving at Kilburn Station, something in my peripheral snapped me out of a daydream and turned my head. A man was standing in front of a lady offering her a tissue. The lady accepted the gift and it was then that I realised that she had been crying and did not know this guy at all. The guy asked if there was anything else he could do. She politely declined and the man returned to his seat.

A simple act of love that may actually keep me here.