We are 3 minutes late so the automatic, germ infested, self signer- inner directs us to a human being on reception- a very nice older lady - who can book us in. "Name?" She enquired "Small Sprog" I say as suddenly she looks up from her screen and sees him for the first time; "Ooo what lovely hair" she exclaims "people would die for those curls!" He shuffles a bit and looks at his feet as she continues " If only my hair was like that"
We walk into the waiting room and sit down. Small Sprog hates the waiting room. He hates the doctors and has a mortal fear of needles and health related implements. He fidgets uncomfortably.
For once the room is not packed with bodies, just a few older ladies who all seem to know each other. They home in on Small Sprog...
"Ooo 'asn't 'e got luverly 'air" says one
"Beautiful" says another
"So much off it" interjects the third
"And so curly"
They talk about him like he's not in the room as Small Sprog gets smaller and smaller, shrinking into his seat. "Can we go now?" he stage whispers whilst smiling politely at them. He learned to smile sweetly at a very young age- it always works wonders and invariably gets him out of most sticky situations- unfortunately a grin at this instant wasn't one of those situations!
"And what luverly teeth!" One of them continues
"Ooo 'e's lucky 'e is!"
" 'e reminds me of that pop star"
"Oh yes " says the other "Marc somebody?"
"Bowland" I say helpfully
"That's the one, spitting image ..."
Oh no, I think to myself, please don't try to hug him or pet him or anything because I think he will just combust!
"Such lovely weather we're having" I interject, trying to divert their attention.
"Oh yes" they all nod as the doctor appears at the waiting room door. He rockets out of his seat so fast it's hard to catch him- I don't think he's ever been so keen to see a doctor in his whole life!