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Topic: Standard Drill (Read 619 times) |
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Sisyphus
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At least when its over you can have a beer!
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Standard Drill
« on: Nov 22nd, 2004, 2:35pm » |
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True Story, happened today at 15.00 hrs GMT.
You know one of those weekends, averaging 7 CH per 24 hrs, all "kipping up" with a venom, slightly overdosing the triptans but getting precious little relief. The sort of time that makes the term 'light sleeper' very appropriate. Well Monday morning comes, gate crash the doctors with reasonable requests they interpret as outrageous demands but manage to get a referral letter to our local demi-god, Prof Goadsby, at the Neurological Institute in London. Temptation was to go to sleep but got on the tube (a very noisy, overcrowded, rattling tin can with blaring announcements of the blindingly obvious: the next stop is King's Cross) and travel towards the centre. As luck would have it, I had just sat down on the tube next to the nice man with the walkman hissing like a cobra when the pain of an incoming kicked in. Hemmed in by commuters, tourists and the jet engine noise of the train sliding along its rails only stopping when the brakes grasped enough metal to slow the wheels, I sat patiently telling myself that this journey would end. Of course what the other people saw was this bloke rocking around and clawing at the right side of his face, still, at least that opened up some room around me! Out at Holborn station and then off to the institute. Can't find it so ask a policeman, "Can you tell me where the neurological institute is?" I ask, clutching at my head to stop it melting into lava. "What do you want to go there for." Eloquence abandoned me a nano second after patience, "I'd of thought that was f...ing obvious"
"Alright Sir, no need to be offensive" . I staggered off following the direction of his pointing finger and arrived at the hope for some peace: The Neurological and Neuro Science Institute. Now here comes the funny bit. I walk in and try to talk to the porter to ask where I should go. Unfortunately there is a hospital handyman with a large drill working his way into a bit of masonary by the desk for God knows what reason. This causes the porter to shout at me "CAN I HELP YOU". Fortunately he couldn't hear my reply fopr the noise.
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The gods had condemned Sisyphus to ceaselessly rolling a rock to the top of a mountain, whence the stone would fall back of its own weight. They thought there no more dreadful punishment!
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Testy1
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Re: Standard Drill
« Reply #1 on: Nov 23rd, 2004, 3:31am » |
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Sisyphus
Aaargh! That sounds like a hellish morning. You'd think they'd muffle those things in a neuro institute! Did you get to see Prof. Goadsby? I hope so. I spent a couple of hours last night doing the dance but at least I could go in the bedroom and close the door. I swear, your story makes me feel lucky if not actually grateful.
Regards
Jack
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