Watty rants:

How in the name of all that has a name does a 5 minute doctor's appointment take 1 hour? It's inconvenient and inefficient for me, sure - but it must be affecting the surgery, too. The main problem is processing people when they come in. The reception desk is in the wrong place, for a start - you come in the door, and it's right there - there's no convenient place to queue up (we brits love a good queue), so a scrum forms, blocking the door. Then you wait. And wait. There are four people behind the desk, but only one of them is actually dealing with people coming in, and her main job is...
answering the phone. This makes little or no sense to me, but maybe that's just me. So I arrive 5 minutes early, but spend ten minutes staring pointedly at the various reception staff hoping one of them might want to talk to me, while the time for my appontment passes. All I need to do is tell them I am here, something which takes, what - half a second? There must be a better way... And then I have to queue again afterwards for my prescription to be filled (it's a rural surgery; they dispense), and then (and OK this is my fault) when I discover I don't have enough money (this is the free NHS, remember - everything costs), I pop home - next door - get some money, run back, and spend another 15 minutes in the scrum so that I can pay. It's absurd. But I feel better now I've ranted.

What? Me? Oh, I have a chest infection thing, for which I have been prescribed inhalers. It'll be gone in a fortnight, apparently.

So, I wrote nearly 3000 words last night. It just flowed out of me once I had worked out the kinks in the plot. I'm optimistic about getting it finished now. Can't wait to see how it turns out...

Depression Index: Very variable. It's to do with being ill, of course - I never handle that well. I've been so unpredictable these past few days that I actually scare myself - suddenly snapping for no reason, just when I thought I was feeling good. But I was good yesterday, and good today: I find I just know when I wake up - I don't even have to think about it. This is also good; It means I am more attuned to it. Sometimes, though, I wish I didn't have to be. *sigh* So, last night, when flerdle asked for directions to Hay-on-Wye, I was able to ring and chat; I made some excuse the night before - I just didn't feel able. Which makes me laugh now, but is the thing I probably hate the most. To pick up the phone and call a friend: it's not so much to ask, is it? But I don't beat myself up about it any more - it just happens; it's part of what I am, and I refuse to feel guilty about it. This is a whole subject area I want to get into sometime. But not now.