Last Friday, the 20th January, I had to go see Dr. Sandroussi, aka U.K.W.; the original appointment was for Thursday, the 19th. Doctor S. was unable to attend his rooms on the 19th, all his Thursday appointments had to be rescheduled; and I was lucky enough to be squeezed in on Friday morning, at 09.30.
I imagine he was called upon to save/prolong other lives.
My son, Nathan Sebastian, came by to drive me the 2 km. to the doc’s rooms, as my wife was on baby sitting duties, with our grandchildren.
I could just as easily have taken a bus. My wife normally drives me, and I take the bus home, there is never anywhere within cooee to park, and it’s just as easy for me to hop on a bus. Takes five minutes if that!
This time was different; Nathan Sebastian drove me, we decided to take my vehicle for no other reason than we didn’t have to walk far to get it, it was parked right at home, his was way down the street. And what a stroke of luck.
When we arrived outside Doctor Sandroussi’s rooms, lo & behold, there’s a “Disability” parking spot. FREE!
Never seen it before; (and doubt I’ll ever see it again).
“I’ll leave the car, and walk back to the house” said Nathan Sebastian, after a few minutes/seconds of me putting up a feeble argument, I agreed.
I know he likes walking, he actually goes, what he refers to as ‘power’ walking, from his flat in Glebe/Forest Lodge, which is just a couple of k’s away from us, into town, over the Bridge to North Sydney, and home again, probably takes a couple of hours, I dread to ask.
According to Google Earth, the shortest way is just over 8½ km, so a round trip 17 k’s; that I believe, is a bit over 10 miles, for those unfamiliar with metric. I wouldn’t/couldn’t have done it in my prime, if I ever was in a prime 😈
On entering the Doc’s rooms I was greeted with a great smile from the ever ebullient Isobel. “Hello Brian” says she, “you look terrific!”, I returned her greeting, and told her I was feeling well.
She then asked if I’ve grown my hair long, I told her no, a gentleman never wears his hair short.
A brief glance around the room revealed several people, and I asked “Is God running a trifle late?” to which Isobel replied, “Just a little”. This was understandable.
Failing to bring a book; which I normally do, I took a seat, that had a commanding view, of the room, and all those stuck therein. 👿
And what a motley mob they were!
The first to catch my eye was a young bloke late 50’s I’d think, obviously taken some time off from his job to attend. Looked like he was a council road worker. Dark blue singlet, shorts & boots. Had a mop of snow white hair, complimented by a snow white walrus beard, come moustache.
Wasn’t what I’d call a proper beard.; nothing on the chin or cheeks. He actually looked a picture of health, if you disregarded the tattoo’s, that were faded, and indistinguishable, on his withered skin. Doctor S. doesn’t just have cancer patients!
He had a mobile/cell phone, that was just that, the old flip up type; and I suspect that when it kept ringing, it was from his foreman/boss, asking when the hell was he getting back to work. He looked somewhat agitated. He really didn’t have to wait very long.
I, as is my usually habit, arrived early for my appointment; just on 09.00 hours, so I knew I was in for a bit of a wait, which didn’t worry me, had all day up my sleeve if needed.
On surveying the room, it occurred to me that it wouldn’t be that bad, as except for the walrus and me, the rest were paired off.
With the exception of Doctor Adams, who sported a full beard, I have never visited a doctor, that wasn’t clean shaven; (lady doctors excluded) neat and presentable. Therefore, I return the respect shown to me, by appearing before them likewise!
That being said, seemingly not everybody would agree with me.
Just around from the walrus were two ladies, they looked like sisters both in their 50’s might have been twins. The words scruffy & dowdy spring to mind. Upon their feet were thongs, that’s Australian thongs, the things people wear on the feet, referred to in some countries as flip-flops for some reason or other.
These things may be okay on a beach; but in the city? At a doctors rooms/surgery? And to add insult to injury, one of these ladies had the temerity to give me a smile! I did not return said smile, impolite though it may be!
Naturally, both these women had the iniquitous mobile/cell phone, clasped in their hands, taping out messages at great speed, on matters of some great moment, no doubt. The world would come to a complete stop, if heaven forbid, people turned the damned things off for five minutes.
Two seats away from Misses Dowdy & Scruffy, was a wife & husband duo; It was quite obvious that they were married, they didn’t converse. They did however, tap away on their m/c’s.probably something really important, like asking someone to check, see if the postman has been. These matter just can not wait! 🙄 
Seated to my left was another married couple; she was cell phone free, but he however, had much to do. There were a great deal of photographs on HIS phone and it was imperative for his wife to see, she nodded, perhaps to humour him; for she said little, preferring to sit in peaceful thought, or mayhap’s just bored with waiting. I didn’t enquire!
There was one other, very strange lady. I couldn’t see much of her, as she seemed buried in a book, oblivious to the world. 😛
By the bye, Dr Sandroussi was not the only specialist attending that morning, there was a lady specialist looking after her own patients.
Mr Walrus was seen, and soon after departed in a great hurry, and more arrived to take his place. The first being a rather tall young woman, perhaps late twenties, early thirties. And I thought exceedingly rude.
She entered the rooms with her mobile glued to her ear, yakking away. Isobel smiled and greeted her in her normal manner, and managed to ascertain that this new lady was a first time visitor, obviously; for she gave Miss Rude a clip board with a form to fill out.
Plonking herself down in the nearest free seat, she proceeded to enter her details, still yakking, and I wondered at her dexterity, and I also wondered how on earth she could write. I’ve noticed how the young hold pens/pencils these days, and it’s no wonder what they write is totally illegible.; but this Miss Rude takes the cake.
I must admit I was quite fascinated; the right thumb seemed to be stuck up into space; the index, and middle fingers, were wrapped around the barrel, and the pointy bit, was somehow resting, on the tip of her little finger. I suppose Isobel could understand it as she accepted it; then again Isobel doesn’t hold her pen correctly either.
It makes me wonder, if this is the fault of being brought up using ball point pens. I remember clearly when being taught to write, dipping my pen into the inkwell/pot, taking pen to paper, and trying my damnedest not to get the ink all over my fingers and failing miserably.
Holding my paper down with the palm of the left hand, sitting up straight and writing slowly and clearly. These non-drip ball-point pens makes it too easy.
Saved getting a wallop; doing it properly!
The last group, but one, (I was going to use penultimate, but thought you’d probably think I’m bunging on side) to arrive before I went in was a family; and what a delight they were, man, wife two children, a pigeon pair, the girl about 7 or 8 the boy 4 or 5, I think, perhaps, they were from New Guinea, children were very dark, with great big smiles, full of shining white teeth.
Plainly, it was the mother who was there to see the doctor, the husband was a nervous wreck. Getting up and down, walking in and out of the building; he just couldn’t sit still, I felt for him. The two children were perfectly behaved, and you could tell they were polite and well mannered.
And not a phone, or electronic toy, to be seen!
I couldn’t help smiling at them, they erased all memory of the Misses Scruffy & Dowdy. who didn’t get a smile!
Then a very young couple, madly in love arrived, both ‘texting’ madly, one handed he, two handed she; they took the seats diagonally opposite me, and she snuggled up head on his shoulder, eyes firmly fixed on her phone still texting away, he doing likewise. I wonder if they were conversing with each other. I never saw their lips move!
Very nicely dressed, she wearing what looked like one of his shirts, rescued from the laundry basket, there may well have been some short shorts beneath; he in battered jeans and top. Very elegant.
My turn to see God came about 10.30 hours, I’d been there more than an hour and a half, time had flown; always does when you’re having fun, so I’ve been told.
He took one look at me, and I was shattered. “You look terrific” says he. I had an idea what was coming. “Hop up here” says he, indicating the couch/bed type of thing, shirt off, no singlet; middle of summer, very lightly dressed am I, he inspected my abdomen, nearly said stomach, then I remembered, admired his handiwork.
“The scar’s nearly gone” looking all pleased with himself. I asked “Who sewed me up?” “I did” says he modestly I said “well you did a bloody good job of needlework.” “Wasn’t needlework it was staples”, which set me straight.
He then checked my neck, and chest, with his fingers, told me I was fine and that I needn’t come back in 6 months, like I’d been doing; but to come back in 12, just to keep an eye on me.
After being dismissed, I checked out with Isobel’s offsider, and I felt somewhat down when I said I don’t come back for 12 months, when I suggested making an appointment she told me that they’d write, and tell me when to come.
So after nigh on 2 years of sitting in Gods presence, regularly, I’ve been sent off into the wilderness. I shall miss our chats.
🐻
For those of you who are wondering, and I expect that is all of you, why I use Nathan Sebastian’s full name, it’s because I like the sound of it. At times I call Coco, my dog Nathan Sebastian. But that’s okay as I call Nathan Sebastian, Coco at times, so it all balances out nicely.
😀
LordBeariOfBow 
ah, the ying and yang of life.
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if you say so Ira 😀
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Wow . . . you used a proper ink pen?
. . . I would have thought it would have been a chisel and hammer on a stone tablet.
Believe it or not (but mostly, you should believe it) I once did a post on handwriting:
https://dispersertracks.com/2014/10/24/writing-and-reading/
My handwriting used to be a lot better than the samples I provide in the posts, but I do prefer typing . . . I suppose that’s the result of being on a computer since the early 70s.
I agree with you that I’ve seen varied ways of holding pens. In fact, when I see a new one, I usually try it just to see how it is.
Regardless, the thick callous I had on the side of my middle finger is but a memory; I no longer write the volume I stuff I used to write. I still have a fountain pen with a refillable reservoir and a bottle of ink. I occasionally load it up and give it a spin for old-times sake.
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Only when I do my Moses bit and just to keep my hands in.
You need to work on your writing, it’s all over the place slanting every which way. Now I suppose you’ll tell me thats deliberate.
I bought myself a fountain pen last week I was fed up with the other things.
How come you had a callous? I suppose you were not holding your pen correctly, I’ve never had a callous on my fingers which is surprising seeing as to some of the things they’ve done.
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This post (https://dispersertracks.com/2014/10/23/nanowrimo-is-a-bit-closer/) has older samples of my writing, from a time when I wrote more often. I can write with differing slants and styles. As for working on my writing, I am . . . just not in cursive.
As for the grip:
http://www.wikihow.com/Hold-a-Pencil
The pen/pencil rests on the side of the middle finger, and that’s where I had a callous. That’s a result of the other two fingers (thumb and index finger) pushing slightly down. The middle finger resists that pressure. I used to write a lot. Had a callous for many years.
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Well I think it’s an excellent idea to keep your hand in, literally, when it comes to writing. Strange that I never ever had a callous as I too hold my pen in a similar position. I was a pen-pusher for nigh on 20 years, a pen was rarely out of my hand.
Perhaps you were gripping it to tightly, or pressing to hard.
I know I have a very light grip and feel almost like a feather in my hand. Perhaps that’s because when I went to school we were using quills. (thought I’d get in before you).
I’ve wondered how I can actually get actual hand written stuff into the blog, I’ve noticed PiedType has some on hers, Do you follow Pied? She’s a great blogger.
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Well, to get handwritten stuff on the blog, you first have to handwrite something. Simply, you can snap a photo of it with your phone (if you have one with a camera) or any camera. You can then insert the picture in the blog post like any other photo.
In my case, I scanned some old notes and then posted a PDF.
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I have do have one of those Samsung Galaxy things which has a camera so I suppose I could use that then I’d have to work out how to get it into PDF, I have n Adobe PDF converting thing on board which I’ve never looked at and used.
I suppose I’d have to turn the Samsung thingy on first, believe it on not Ionly have the thing to keep the wife happy and also keep the number. I had to use a mobile when I was working, and the number that I’d purchased is a beauty and I have no intention of giving it away. 0410503020 isn’t that a good number? 5 zeros and the #12345 all mixed up.
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I follow her Curves blog. Her regular blog has a different crowd on it, or at least it did at the time that I read it. We would likely clash with differing views of the world, and I decided I don’t particularly need that kind of interaction. So, no, I don’t follow it.
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No need to do a PDF. Just post a photo of whatever you wrote with your quill.
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Ah, fountain pens. I was so excited when they were given to us in the 6th grade (age 12). Can’t imagine a room full of kids that age wieldling pens and bottles of ink. Don’t know why some people hold their pens/pencils in such odd ways. I guess nobody bothers to teach that anymore? Probably not, since so many schools don’t even teach cursive anymore. I think there’s more concern about keyboarding than handwriting. Who knows, someday historians may need special training to read the “hierglyphics” we now call cursive.
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I got mine around 6 or 7, but then I started school aged 3years 4 months, and got thrown straight into reading riting and rithmatic.
I think it’s an absolute transgression the abandonment of teaching children proper writing skills. Lets face it, it really isn’t that difficult once you start.
My son aged 35 has handwriting that is impossible for anyone but himself to understand, makes me feel ashamed. I think it was a waste of time and money sending him to private schools
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Good on you for this: “he inspected my abdomen, nearly said stomach then I remembered.” I get all hoity-toity when a news broadcaster says “He was shot/stabbed in the stomach.” I shout at the TV/radio: “Are you sure? Maybe it was the intestines, or the liver”. I should get a life, perhaps.
Remember the first ballpoint pens that came out? They were so messy!
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actually God aka Doc Sandroussi removed my cancerous stomach completely in June 2015, I no longer have one. 😀
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You’re a minor miracle, our Lord.
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Doctor Sandroussi is Our Lord I’m just M’lord
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If you go to this link you’ll see pictures which explain why https://lordbeariofbow.com/2016/06/24/that-year-went-quickly/
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I will re-post my inkwell story when I find it. But,my Dear Lord, (I just can’t write Brrr iron) I would like to say that this is one of the most entertaining post I have read in quite some time. An amazing coverage and analysis of all the visitors to your doc.
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Glad you enjoyed it John
Can’t stand the Brrr iron either. My mother used to tell me that I was named after the Steptoe of Poplar. I was born in the attic of her grandfathers house, Apparently the iron monger below was calling out ‘any old iron’ and she in her stupor though he was calling out brrr iron.
True! Well I suppose it was, anyway I was stuck with it. Much prefer my second name.
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Well, that beats a book. So, you have bearded lady doctors?
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Droll, very droll. Loved it! 😀 😛
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Brian,
when I’m in a doctor’s waiting room I do exactly the same. Doctors are always late, so I take the newspaper and do the crossword. When I’m trying to solve a clue, I look around and try to sum up the people around me. Like you I take a shower and dress neatly, taking care to choose clothes that are easy to remove, in case an examination is required. I usually have a glass of water before I go, in case a “specimen” is asked for. I’ll tell you this story over a beer down at the Old Vic one day.
Neill.
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I gave up crosswords a long time ago, they got boring. You may be interested to know that “derrickjknight” who’s comments you can read hereunder is an ex-compiler of cryptic crosswords in England. He has a most interesting website and well worth your while to go and visit.
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Great romp around the waiting room! Thanks for taking us with you. I learned that your kind are pretty much like our kind in waiting rooms–most noses and eyes stuck to their owner’s devices. I also learned you have a scary memory for detail and description! And that you’re not a snob. 😊
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As I said Elouise; it just looks that way, as to memory I don’t know whether it’s a blessing or not; but whatever it is I’m stuck with it. I noticed you’ve been having a look around my ramblings, and hope it wasn’t an unpleasant experience. I do thank you most sincerely for the time and effort taken in such a chore. here’s a special bear, just for you 🐻 😀
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Awww. You’re too sweet! 😊
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By the way, I forgot to comment on the snob issue. Yes, I believe you are a snob.
The issue for me is less the manner of dress and footwear but rather the character of a person. For instance, you not smiling at the lady that smiled at you because she looked “scruffy & dowdy” would have me — were I sitting in the same room observing you — classify you as someone not worth much as an individual. You don’t know the story of those women. You don’t know if the clothes they wore were their “best” clothes.
Might you not have made their day by engaging in a bit of conversation with them? Might you not have perhaps enriched their lives by your mere willingness to stoop down to their obviously low-born level?
Then again, you would look at me and probably think me some sort of slob for my manner of dress. While apparently willing to converse in this medium, you would likely ignore my presence if not outright disapprove of it, thus missing out on scintillating conversation and ultra-wise and deeply insightful opinions and observations.
Which comes to the respect “owed” doctors. Say a doctor earns my respect, I would not be showing it by carefully choosing what I hope would be the perfect pair of shoes to wear for a visit. I would show my respect by continuing to see them as opposed to finding other doctors. Also, shouldn’t we show respect to all who are good at their jobs? From the barista to the brick-layer to the street sweeper to the computer programmer to the bank teller to the lawyer . . . if someone is capable and good at what they do, they deserve our respect.
I show respect by acknowledging someone, like, for instance, smiling back when smiled at.
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Well I’m suitable chastised, even if I do disagree with you.
I’m sure that if we were to meet, we would get on famously and on parting have the fervent wish never to meet again.
We are both egoists each believing in the superiority of our own brand of wisdom .
Which is really great fun don’t you think ?
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There is a reason why I hesitate to meet people in person after they get to “know” me online . . . I’m a lot less pleasant and likable in person; nothing like the kind, thoughtful, restrained, generous, and considerate individual people come to know and love online.
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Completely understandable; whereas I’m just the opposite 😀
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I dread to confess that on my last visit to our family doctor I went in normal summer attire of short-sleeved shirt, shorts, and flip-flops (or slip-slops or thongs). Mind you, everyone else in the waiting room was similarly attired. The slops cost between A$1 and A$2 a pair, so I have quite a few in assorted shades.
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I too, wore the same, normal summer attire, but wore suitable footwear. I must admit, I don’t wear flip-flops/thongs/slip-slops; for the simple reason I don’t have any to wear. I have toes & feet, that for some reason, don’t lend themselves to wearing them; which suits me as I’m not overly fond of them.
Admittedly, there are many designed for women, that look very nice; but lets be honest the $1 or $2 a pair look it!
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Strangely enough, these local cheap imported models are actually smarter and more comfortable than the (leather or similar) versions at twenty times the price. The design is ideal for keeping them firmly attached with the minimum of contact and no chafing, and the soles are non-slip.
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I did try to wear a pair many years ago, so long ago, in fact, that I forget when, and found them impossible to wear.
As I said I have strange feet, they are very small, I can actually buy shoes, from the children’s department, of a shoe store, very high insteps and nasty hammer toes.
I saw a specialist some years ago when I was plagued with gout; After I removed my footwear, he took one look at my feet and said ” what ugly feet!”
I liked the man instantly!
My mother tried to tell me it was a result of the polio I had as a child; but I think she was wrong.
Strangely, I was a very good ballroom dancer; could really trip the light fantastic.
Anyway I don’t wear thongs etc……………. 😛
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Two cartoons came to mind when you mentioned difficulty wearing thongs . . .
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Dang, the cartoons did not show up! Too bad.
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Too bad indeed. Lynx? Er … links?
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I’ll try again, but it may not allow it. I’ll do one at the time.
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Ah, there it is . . . here’s the other one:
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Hope you appreciate the liberality of your host -ME- in having a ‘site’ that allows third party guests/ contributors to bung their stuff on, without censorship. I even allow these things >>>>>> 🙂 🙄 🐻
Although I’m thinking of invoking any censorship rights that I may have, when it come to the mention of the new incumbent at the White House and occupant of the Resolute Desk
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The sites vary . . . some just show the link. Others actually bring in the photo. That’s at your discretion, and if your sensitivities are being taxed, I would not be offended in the least if you remove those. (go to the dashboard, choose comments, edit or delete at will)
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I leave mine open deliberately I have no objection to anything except profanities/expletives. I do delete those. I don’t use them and don’t see any reason why I should have them but harmless humour even humor gets a run any time! As I said I’m not a snob 😈
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Oh yes, they must be from Australia.
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who must?
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The 2 ladies in the second cartoon your arch nemesis sent.
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Yvonne I sent the WO off to Coles with a shopping list and told her to be sure to check all the trolleys+and if she saw any shopping lists to grab them and bring them home to me as there is an elderly lady who has nothing better to do with her time but to write posts on “shopping lists”.
Okay says she as she toddled off in the Toyota,’ When she returned she told me that she had managed to get 4 or 5 but that one woman wouldn’t give her hers,
She then gave me the shopping dockets from all these people,I said I did ask for shopping LISTS and she said that they were the same thing.
And you think I’m odd.?
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LOL. A match made in heaven, obviously!
Please thank TWO, but perhaps put her through an intensive course of shopping list training and try again. I was so excited as I started to read your reply. Now, I am crushed.
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Being impertinent is second nature to you; isn’t it Yvonne?
😛
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You bring out the absolute best in me, M’Lord.
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I come from Pacific Paratrooper’s blog. Thanks for the like on my comment, m’lord. Your blog is so entertaining. You might not think you’re a snob but yes, it looks that way. But don’t worry. My husband thinks sometimes I am too. I like good manners and nice things. Does that make me a snob?
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Thank you Rose 🙂 Glad you found that blog , It was written so long ago I went back to read what I rambled on about, I’m inclined to ramble.
I don’t think enjoying nice things and being polite is snobbish though some people do, those that are too lazy to make an effort. So no you’re not a snob,tell your husband to read that post to show him what one supposedly looks liker 😀 😈 , I like smileys
I pop in to visit GP regularly and he like to drop by here and pull my leg from time to time; I hope you’ll drop by again, you may well enjoy some of my latests posts, they seem to appeal to my American cousins 😀 🐻
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Ah yes, I missed some latter happenings, here.
All goes to show: it’s the thinger, not the thong.
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now there’s a thought
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Well played, colonialist. 🙂
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I’ve never heard of thongs being footwear. I liked Disperser’s cartoon pics, very good graphic description.
Are you a snob? I think we all are on some level. Recently, I couldn’t get an appointment at the medical practice here in the village, but was given an appointment at one of their other surgeries. I did exactly the same as you, I sat in the waiting room and judged that most of the other waiting patients were scruffily dressed compared to the patients that visit my usual practice. I immediately chastised myself for those thoughts, but one cannot help the thoughts that pop into one’s head.
Once during a party here at home, I overheard a comment from a friend of my husband’s, it was getting late and some of our guests had already left. “Good, now her posh friends have gone we can start enjoying ourselves!” It seems snobbery works both ways!
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What are known as flip flops in the Northern Hemisphere are known up here in th Southern Hemisphere as thongs.
I cannot see anything wrong in having things being ‘nice’, ‘elegant’; I don’t like scruffy, and if that’s snob then I’m SNOB.
Some think I’ a SOB 👿
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I have to agree, I’m very fussy about my appearance and I like having high standards!
The other day I saw a clip on TV of a meeting that Donald Trump was having, probably about the standoff between parties. Anyway, I was shocked to see that a number of the men were wearing hats at the table, cowboy type hats I think. Though the type of hat is irrelevant, I couldn’t help thinking how rude this was. Or do Americans not share the same high standards we were brought up on?
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I believe it’s an innate part of our makeup. our Yankee cousins are still having difficulty accepting who and what they are; they seem to want to be better than the English ” Upper Class”; which is not really upper at all, instead of just being natural, and doing what is right by following natural instincts of right and wrong.
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