Still causing ructions with pal of 73yrs

I’m in love with my doctor and reckon if I lost four stone, 40 years and had Botox I’d be in with a chance.

This week Janet accompanied me to my appointment, lugging my walker out of her car without a word of complaint because she’s a retired nurse and living angel. But as soon as I asked the doctor where he was from, his age and his family details, Janet started giving me The Glare.

I enjoyed my chat with my GP and it’s nice to hear what his brothers, sister and dad all do for a living and his opinion of the Welsh football team.

But Janet reminded me there were people waiting to see him so I reluctantly said my goodbyes.

Waiting rooms can be dreary because everyone there has something on their mind and talks in whispers. So before we left the surgery we sang Twinkle Twinkle to a toddler and had some nice chats with people waiting there. Life’s too short to be miserable and a smile costs nothing.

My appointment was 9.20am. We left the surgery at 11.40am.

A new card shop has opened in Wrexham so I made a list of all the occasions between now and June, and chose a pile of new cards.

In the queue for the till, something came over me and I broke into a rendition of Ain’t No Mountain High Enough. Janet was a few places behind me in the queue and I saw her eyebrows going up and down.

But after a couple of bars, a lovely young girl asked if she could do a duet with me and we had a lovely singsong, doing all the actions to keep the rhythm.

As I left, I caught Janet telling the staff: “She causes ructions wherever she goes. Can you believe we’ve been friends for 73 years?”

We topped off our day with a pub lunch and I was served lemon meringue pie that looked like a work of art with a fruit garnish.

“Look at this, Janet,” I said. “I’ve got a syphilis.”

Janet’s eyes widened to the size of her plate and her spoonful of jam sponge froze mid-air. “It’s not called syphilis,” she said. I was sure I was right because I’d seen it on Come Dine With Me.

So, back home, I checked with my eldest son Jonathan. “Mother,” he said.

Turns out the cute orange little fruit is called a physalis. Easy mistake to make (and I ate it anyway).