Well, what a week it’s been! It’s Friday afternoon and I’m sitting here trying to summon up the energy to write my blog. I’m at work on Saturday then have a Halloween party in the evening so will have no other time to write it.
As you know, Miss F came home a week ago and I made the trip to a nearby town to collect her from the train station there. For various reasons, even though Bury St Edmunds is a much bigger town than Thetford, it is on a mainline whereas Bury is only a branch line. That means that for Miss F to catch a train direct to Bury from her university, it would involve a fifteen-hour journey with six changes including an hour-long tube trip across central London! No way. So, it suddenly occurred to me to check out the trains to Thetford – as it’s a mainline – and lo and behold, it was only going to take five hours and involve one change at Stockport. As Thetford is only a 20-minute drive away, it seemed a much better idea for Miss F to catch a train to there and I would collect her.
Her train was due into Thetford at 18:41 so I left home at 18:20 to ensure I was there in plenty of time. It was a filthy night, dark and rainy, and although I’ve been to Thetford several times, it’s more than thirty-five years since I’ve been to the station. Leaving a big dinner sitting in the hot trolley, I set off, eager to see my girl again.
There was a lot of traffic on the road which I hadn’t allowed for, with congestion in Thetford, and I had forgotten that the station is located down some twisty residential streets that had me wondering if I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere. The station itself is tiny and is simply a place where trains stop. Judging by the faded glory of its old Victorian buildings it was once a bit more than that, and you can imagine it being the hub of the town when most travelling was by rail.
I parked outside and sent a quick text to Miss F to let her know I was there. Then I wandered onto the platform and wondered which side I needed to be – there were two tracks but very little information about which platform her train would be arriving at – but as most people were on the opposite one, I guessed that must be it and crossed over on the bridge as the train thundered into the station.
There was the usual confusion of people getting on and off, of greetings and farewells, and travellers trying to control wayward luggage. I scanned the faces of all the disembarking passengers but couldn’t see her anywhere. The train pulled out of the station and the crowd began to thin and I still couldn’t see her. That tiny voice of panic nagged at my mind, so I took out my phone and saw I had a missed call which I hadn’t heard because of the noise of the train and a text from Miss F – where are you? – I was about to phone her when suddenly she was there! She travelled down with another girl from university, and they’d got off at the other end of the train and I hadn’t seen her.
Driving back, she was full of excited talk about university shenanigans and adventures with her friends, and it was good to hear how happy and settled she is there. It is worrying when your only child goes halfway across the country at barely eighteen. When they’re so far away that if anything happens, it will take you hours to reach them.
After more than five hours travelling, she was tired and hungry, so we had dinner then a reasonably early night.
We were both woken at 5am on Saturday by the lodger trying to get out of the house to go to work. Yes, he is still incapable of opening and closing doors quietly, but what can I do?
I was supposed to work on Saturday, but my boss swapped my hours, so I had the day off and was very relieved I did. After a lazy start, we wandered uptown and treated ourselves to a luxury hot chocolate each which we sat and drank in the Abbey Gardens. It was a gorgeous sunny day, with squirrels darting about all over the place.
Once we’d finished our drinks, we wandered through town and booked a table for dinner with my parents the following Thursday at a local pub, then went to visit Miss F’s grandparents who were very pleased to see her. After a nice long visit with them, we went our separate ways – Miss F to go for a haircut and I to Waitrose to pick up a few bits for dinner and the rest of the week. Again, we were both very tired after being woken so early so had a nice dinner and an early night.
Sunday, I had to work, but Miss F was looking forward to having a day to chill and try to persuade the cat to forgive her for going away. It was quite funny, the cat wasn’t hostile towards her or anything like that, but there was definitely a passive-aggressive protest going on about her abandonment by Miss F. Every time Miss F picked up the cat for a cuddle, the cat would pointedly remove herself from her arms and come and climb into my lap.
Sunday evening, we had my niece around for the evening and we shared a Chinese takeaway, two bottles of red wine, and a glass or so of gin. The plan had been to play games, but we spent the whole evening chatting instead.
Monday was a day off as well, so we drove to the nearest seaside town to us which is Felixstowe. Again, it was a gorgeous day with blue skies arcing overhead and the sun glittering off the North Sea. We played on the tuppeny shove and spent lots of money to win some tut that was worth a fraction of what we spent to win it, but we had fun, so that’s the main thing. After that, we had chips sitting on the seafront. A very large seagull landed nearby and looked sideways at our chips, but a large dog chased it off so that was all right. We then slowly wandered back to the car as the sky was darkening – just making it to the car as the heavens opened.
Unfortunately, Miss F came back from university with a nasty cough – and no, it’s not Covid. During the first week or so of university, “freshers’ flu” swept through all the students. I think it was glandular fever. Anyway, many of them were left with a persistent cough – Miss F included. This cough has lingered ever since. Some of the other students went to their doctors and were prescribed antibiotics because it’s a chest infection and not much else will shift it. But … here is where it gets complicated.
When Miss F first got to university, she was told to register with the local doctor’s surgery as a student and they could then have access to her medical records back at her registered surgery in Bury St Edmunds. Miss F duly did as she was instructed. So, when this cough looked like it was going to stick around she tried to get an appointment with the surgery near the university. But … they don’t answer their phone, they don’t respond to emails, and it seems like they don’t want to give appointments to students – not even telephone consultations. Miss F then tried her surgery in Bury St Edmunds – the ones who have been her doctors since before she was born. But … she is apparently no longer registered with them so they can’t help her!
This is a ludicrous situation. At the age of just 18, my daughter doesn’t appear to have an NHS doctor!
So, nothing was done about her cough and a month later she still has it. A horrible, dry, hacking cough that is painful to hear. Monday evening, she tried again to get a telephone consultation with the surgery near the university. Your call has been logged, she was informed, someone will get back to you as soon as possible.
Note: It is now Friday evening, four days later, and no one has.
She then tried the NHS helpline. After a myriad of questions, some sensible, some bizarre, she was told someone would call her back. An hour later, someone did. A nurse practitioner called Carol who from the sound of her accent was in the West Country somewhere. She listened to Miss F’s symptoms – she also listened to her coughing up a lung down the phone – at the end of which she declared that she was not happy to prescribe antibiotics and suggested that Miss F take some cough medicine!
Cough medicine? For what is plainly a chest infection!
Understandably frustrated by all of this, Miss F asked me what she should do, so I told her to go and see the pharmacist in our local chemist the next morning. I’ve spoken to him before and he’s really good – so good that it’s a crying shame he couldn’t prescribe Miss F the antibiotics which he wanted to because, in his opinion, she has a chest infection, and they would help her to get rid of it. Because of the rules in the UK though, he wasn’t allowed to prescribe her anything other than a strong linctus to try and help shift it. But he did say if the cough didn’t clear by next week then she would have no other option but to go to A&E – for a cough that could quite easily be dealt with by a simple doctor’s appointment – because it’s impossible to get a doctor’s appointment anymore so you must go to the hospital and put yet more strain on the emergency services. The situation in the UK is now that ridiculous! Surely, it can’t all be blamed on the pandemic. Where have all the doctors gone? Why are they no longer seeing patients, and why are surgeries no longer answering their phones?!
Tuesday I was back to work, but Miss F was spending the day with a friend and having lunch out, so when I got home I cooked a quick meal for myself. We had managed to book Miss F’s second Covid jab for seven that evening in the nearby town Newmarket. I’ve been to Newmarket loads of times and Google maps told us that Pharmacy 4U – which was where the vaccine centre was located – was on the high street, so I was confident of being able to find it.
Running late, as usual, we parked on the high street and set off on foot to find the pharmacy which, Google maps reliably informed us, was nearby. Nope. Rushing up and down the street, we were confronted with closed shops and even boarded-up premises. Desperate – it was now five to seven – I jumped at a young couple walking by and asked them if they knew where Pharmacy 4U was? Oh, the vaccine place, they asked. Yes. Oh, that’s up on the racecourse, another mile or so out of town.
Fuming, we charged back to the car, jumped in, and raced out of town. Now we were into a part of Newmarket I didn’t know very well at all. Trying to slow and peer at right-hand turnings looking for the statue of the horse they’d told us to turn by, we couldn’t see anything! It didn’t help that it was dark, and I mean, really dark! There was no moon at all Tuesday night, so it was pitch black, with bright headlights coming at me out of the dark half blinding me. I couldn’t see bugger all and had no idea where I was or where I was supposed to go.
After a few minutes I realised we were heading out of town so must have missed it. Cursing, I turned onto a farm track and waited until I could pull back out into traffic and head back into town now scanning the left for the statue and the turning. I thought I saw something looming up in shadows, but it was so blinking dark I wasn’t sure if I’d seen anything or not. But there was a turning, so we took it, and it led us back parallel to the road we’d been on. There was nothing there! No signs, no clues at all that we were in the right place.
I turned back onto the main road, then saw that what I’d seen was the horse statue so we must have been in the right place. Fuming, I turned back onto the side road and this time we went further – almost to the gates of the racecourse itself – and there, finally, was a lit-up sign for Pharmacy 4U.
Pharmacy 4U, it informed us in bright red letters, has been relocated to Landwades Business Park, Kentford!
WTF!! We’d driven through Kentford to get to Newmarket so must have gone straight by it!
By now it’s gone 7:20 and Miss F’s jab was booked for seven. She was panicking that she wouldn’t get her second jab at all, and I was beyond angry that they’d moved the location without bothering to let us know!
Back through Newmarket, we roared, and out onto the road leading back to Bury. I knew roughly where Lanwades Business Park was – somewhere on the right – but the road was thickly tree-lined and due to the extreme darkness it was impossible to see anything until you were right on top of it. I slowed right down, indicating right, and crawled along frantically scanning the hedgerows for a turning.
Where is it when you’re looking for somewhere there’s always a car right up your arse being driven by some brain dead moron with no patience. Yes, I know I’m going slowly but you can see my indicator is on and I’m clearly looking for somewhere. Revving right up to the back of my car as if you want to climb into my boot and putting your headlights on full beam isn’t going to help the situation.
Almost into the village of Kentford, I saw a large plaque saying Lanwades Business Park and thankfully turned off the road, leaving the inconsiderate arse wipe behind me to roar off into the darkness. Cheers, mate, you were so understanding. Following the signs for Pharmacy 4U we parked, and Miss F jumped out and ran into the building. The door was locked as they’d finished for the evening and initially told her she would have to come back another day. Forcibly informing them that she couldn’t, she was home for a couple of days from university only, and that it wasn’t her fault as the location of the clinic had been changed without any kind of notification – they relented, let her in, and stuck the needle in her as they were asking her consent.
What a bloody palaver, but at least she’s had her second dose now.
Wednesday, I was at work and Miss F went to catch up with another friend and have a light lunch with them. Getting home from work, I did us an amazing dinner of thick sirloin steaks with all the trimmings, then Miss F’s godmother came round for the evening.
Thursday, her last day and a day off work for me. Having a good breakfast, we went uptown for Miss F to have her optician’s appointment – thankfully, she still has an optician! Her eyesight has deteriorated again so new glasses were necessary and when they arrive I will have to collect and post them up to her.
After that, we mooched around the charity shops and managed to finish off my fancy dress costume for the party I was going to on Saturday night.
Thursday evening, we went for dinner at a local pub with my parents. The pub is lovely, the menu is extensive, it’s reasonably priced, and the staff are friendly. Just one thing marred our meal out. A large family were sitting at a table on the other side of the room. Not only did they have a baby that occasionally let out the most ear-piercing shrieks, which was bad enough, but they also had a small yappy dog who barked constantly. Pitched at a shrill pain level, it was annoying for us all but particularly so for my mother whose hearing aid was reacting badly to the frequency of the yaps and causing her pain. On and on, the shrill cries and even shriller yapping went on, and the family did absolutely nothing to curtail either annoyance.
When I went to place our order at the bar, I asked the server if he thought the dog was going to yap all evening. God, I hope not, he replied, pulling a face, it’s so annoying, isn’t it!
Going back to our table, the server followed me over a few minutes later and said he’d reserved us a table in a different room, so we’d be away from the selfishly noisy family, so we quietly, and without any fuss, moved before our food was served.
The meal was lovely, we had a nice chat, and everything was going well, until the father of the noisy family brought the dog over to stand right by our table, yapping away. Then the mother walked over and called out to us – we’re leaving now, I hope you’re happy, we saw you glaring at us!
How bloody rude was that? For a start, yes, we are very happy you and your noisy dog are leaving, but as for glaring at you, seeing as we’ve been sitting in another room for the past hour and couldn’t see you how can we have been glaring at you?
We stared at them in disbelief as they left the pub, trailing their three or four small offspring with them, who were chanting – nasty people, we’re leaving! Which they must have picked up from their parents.
Miss F accused me of being a “Karen” because I was so annoyed not only at their selfish and inconsiderate behaviour, but the unnecessary comments made by them. I’m sorry but taking your dog into a restaurant is a privilege, not a right, and if your dog cannot behave and is spoiling the enjoyment of the other diners, then take the damn thing out or leave it at home altogether! Why are people so inconsiderate these days? Has lockdown made people boorish and rude because they’re not used to eating out anymore? Or have some people always been like that, and I’d just forgotten? If I had a dog, and that dog was prone to constantly yapping, then I certainly wouldn’t take it into a crowded restaurant, I would leave it at home. I don’t know, maybe Miss F is right, maybe I am a Karen, but the older I get, the less inclined I am to put up with other people’s bullshit.
And that was the end of Miss F’s stay. Friday morning, we had a full English breakfast to see her through the day and the long train journey, then I drove her to Thetford and saw her on the 12:41 train. Driving back to Bury I detoured to Tesco to do my weekly shop, drop off bottles at the recycling bank, and top up with petrol. Thankfully, all that fuel shortage shenanigans are over, although fuel prices have gone up. Getting caught in a sudden downpour when I was loading the shopping in and out of the car, by the time I’d got it all into the house, I was drenched.
Friday afternoon was spent stripping Miss F’s bed, tidying her room, cooking my dinner, attempting to write my blog, then at 5:30 I put on my coat and shoes and joined my neighbours in the street for a last Happy Hour drink before the clocks go back this weekend, the nights pull in, and the weather makes it impossible to meet outside.
Unfortunately, I didn’t manage to finish writing my blog on Friday, so I left it to finish on Saturday morning, but that didn’t happen either, then when I got home from work that evening I had a light dinner to cook and eat, and a fancy-dress party to get ready for.
So, it’s now Sunday. After a very late night, I slept in this morning, but then realised I hadn’t put my clocks back yet, so it wasn’t so late as I thought. I’m now off for three days and plan to write and catch up with housework. I think Miss F has given me her cough though because my throat feels like sandpaper and I can’t stop coughing, or maybe it’s a result of getting caught in the rain. Either way, I’m looking forward to three gentler days of taking care of myself and eating nourishing meals.
Happy Halloween Everyone! Sorry it’s a late blog this weekend, but better late than never, right?
Julia Blake