A short time ago B and I had the misfortune to be seated in St George's hospital awaiting an appointment. It seemed an age before we were seen, though I will not say a bad word against the hospital as the staff were; apolegetic, friendly and competent!
As we sat playing 'guess what's wrong with him', a nurse came out of one of the many rooms.
'Glenda Thompson.' She announced with clarity. She waited three seconds.
'Glenda Thompson?' She repeated more slowly. The nurse walked forwards and double checked that there wasn't a vertically challenged patient hiding beyond the seven of us sat obediantly.
'GLENDA THOMPSON?' The nurse finally announced at quite a volume, a tinge of resignation clear in the final syllable.
Inexplicably a lady dressed in full Islamic Jilbaab, that the nurse had already passed by, stood up defiant and declared,
'I am Glenda Thompson!' Her voice indignant, her eyes daring anyone to challenge her otherwise.
That's odd I thought, why make such a song and dance about it? Why not answer the nurse's call straight away?
Moments later another nurse came in. B and I sat up expectantly.
'Kelly Smith.' The nurse invited. No answer.
'I'd laugh if that was Kelly Smith!' I giggled, nodding towards another lady also dressed according to the Law of Hijaab.
'Shh!' B muttered, stifling her laughter.
'Kelly Smith?' The nurse repeated.
A man, who was sat next to the lady I had pointed out, stood up.
'This is Kelly Smith'. He pronounced, waving his hand towards the lady sat next to him. The lady stood, nodded and followed the nurse.
I briefly considered that I had uncovered an improbable new technique for queue jumping, before asserting that I should be flogged for being a xenophobic cynic. That is until I heard a story that my Nan told recently.
Whilst travelling on the Milton Keynes Hopper bus, heading to the City Centre to indulge in her daily habit of lottery scratch cards, Nan was involved in an accident. The bus had been 'cut up' by a discourteous driver and had been forced to perform an emergency stop. My Nan was thrown from her seat and banged her leg badly.
The paramedics were called and Nan spent 25 minutes being checked over. The paramedic foolishly suggested to my Nan that she should go to hospital. At this, Nan stood up and declared that nothing of the sort was going to happen and that she was in fact Jehovah!
I can only assume that Nan meant to say that she was a Jehovah's Witness rather than professing to be the God of the Old Testament!
So, should you find yourself near a hospital, keep an eye out for religious curiousities and don't be suprised if you are confronted by an elderly lady, clutching scratch cards, claiming to be the messiah!
Is Milton Keynes the promised land? I thought my 'hometown' of Slough (aka: "Slaa")was the Holy Land of the South.
Actually, I once knew a bloke who would only use shampoo-type substances and hair treatments that were mentioned in the Old Testament. 'turns out he was a Jojoba's Witness.