After yesterdays hoo-ha (protected) and obstructive determination of hoarding the prioity seating on another depressingly decorated FGW commuter train (I swear this train was like the house out of the Simpsons Tree House of Horror episode where the walls bleed blood, but instead of blood it weeped clinical greys and poor lighting which encourage you to jump in front of a train if you weren’t already inside one), I have pretty much done fuck all.

This morning I woke up to find rigor mortis had set in and moving was generally quite unpleasant, once I was in the shower however, I discovered I’m now sporting quite a nice beginning of a belt bruise. It kind of makes me look rugged in the Miss Universe sort of way. From there I took the opportunity to clean the post area as the other tennants haven’t bothered keeping it tidy and I found a few dated letters as well (woo!).

I also took the opportunity to get a GP, which is something I tend not to bother visiting pretty much ever. My new surgery is in a Boots store in the Mall Galleries (seriously) and as a welcome gift I was upsold a chlamydia test (as it’s the new thing the NHS seem to be focusing on), got my arm crushed by a machine trying to determine my blood pressure which she had to do three times and insists I should do it again in a month as it seems “a touch high, but it could be a one off” and they’re going to run my wee for the various diabities tests too.

I’ll know of my various results at sometime in the next 10 days and I can then completely forget that I have a GP for another 5 years.

Ironically, tonight I’m looking forward to watching the new season of Ice Road Truckers.

Listening to: ITV1 - Corrie

Vibe: bored

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