Making, waiting for, and attending a doctor's appointment is one of my most hated things. Sometimes it gets so bad that I sit there, thinking I'd rather lose the hour of my life lost in the surgery waiting room to the illness I'm developing instead of in there.
However, there is one slight perk of visiting the 'Shire surgery and that comes in the form of O.A.Ps To Aspire To.
There was once two consequetive visits when an O.A.P.T.A.T and her headscarf kept me entertained throughout that interminable waiting. The accessory in question was cream silk, with a fetching red golf tee pattern on - fit. First time, worn around the neck, second, she pulls out the big guns and does what I like to call "The Queenie". A full on, under the chin affair adored by Burberry et al last A/W.
This kind of experience has formed itself into massive expectation everytime I'm to visit the place. Therefore, I was not disappointed when, twenty minutes into yet another hour of my life I will never get back, the CYCLING GRANDAD OF BUCKINGHAMSHIRE rocks on up.
This man is a living legend. In fact, I'm ashamed he doesn't have his very own label on Bowlface...
In short, he is an octogenarian, long-bearded Dumbledore-like creature who I drive past regularly on country roads as he is cycling buy in full-on 80s fluro exercise garb. Like Mr. Motivator, but more wrinkly, and less of a terrifying sexual predator. I'm yet to speak to him, but one day, there will be an interview, Bowlfans.
Anyway, contrary to expectation, this visage in green and pink (Wednesday's choice, natch) did not pain my equally "florid" - cheers Dr. Fairfield - conjunctivitis. Conjunctivitis being easily the most disgusting of minor optical illnesses. As my dear friend tactfully put it, "ew, you look horrible."
It's a shame I'm not an 11 year old boy, for whom eyes representative of those in Dawn of the Dead would be immensely cool. As it is, I'm a 20 year old girl who, with the current hair-growth situation, feels rough enough as it is, thanks. Alas, the NHS Granny Specials glasses have been tucked away in favour of professional wire-framed, for gym and boutique wearing purposes. The Shire is not Shoreditch, and middle class countryfolk just do not understand the ironic ugly look.
To add insult to injury, I got emailed this link today. I was seriously tempted to invest until it was revealed that they don't even offer a prescription service. Do people honestly spend £205 on glasses they don't even need? Really? If you are one of these people, then shame on you. Spend your £205 on actual myopic people who need to look pretty in obligatory face-bottle-ends.