K-Mad Monday in Reception for Celia

"Good morning, Hazelpine surgery here, how can I help you?"

"ER??? yes good morning, this is Mr Finn, I'd like to make an
appointment with Dr Samms if I possible."

"Yes certainly, lets have a look?mmmh, we can fit you in Thursday
afternoon at 16:45pm?"

"Well??? er? this is Monday morning."

"Indeed it is Mr Finn, and your point being?"

"I beg your pardon."

"Mr Finn, Monday has always followed Sunday, as has Sunday always
followed Saturday, as has Saturday always followed Friday etc? so as
much as I appreciate lessons on the days of the week, I think it safe
to say that most of us above the age of Seven and who are consistently
sober are well aware in which order the days of the week rotate."

"Uh!!!"

"Thursday afternoon is the earliest I can fit you in, unless it's an
emergency, is it an emergency Mr Finn?"

"I've got an ear infection I Th?"

"Thursday afternoon it is then."

"Now wait a minute, I need to see him today or tomorrow morning at the
latest."

"Why do you think perhaps a tumour is developing, or maybe a brain
haemorrhage is imminent? Forgive me but I can't recall a blocked ear
ever killing anybody Mr Finn (the image of a deaf camper being set upon
by a savage bear crossed her mind, but that surely didn't
count)."

"Now look missus, I've been off work a week, five working days see? So
I need Dr Samms to extend my absence by supplying me with a sick line,
Thursday is too late, I'll have my employers on me back, if I don't get
me line into tomorrow."

"Ah yes I now SEE your plight, but forgive me if my professional
attitude disguises my natural sympathies for your perceived condition.
I have to reserve my concerns for those who have had their illness
verified by those who are qualified to diagnose."

"Now listen, I know a sore ear when I see one, and I'm in bloody agony
here. I have to say your attitude is to say the least?"

"Honest? Mr Finn is that the word you we're fishing for, is it a word
you're familiar with?"

"Rude, that was the word, I don't need Snotty remarks and I don't
appreciate earache from jumped up tea girls, I need an appointment
tomorrow at the latest, can you fit me in or not?"

"Isn't it amazing Mr Finn, how disciplined the way with which the
WORKING? Man's illness conducts itself. It appears on a Monday morning
and finishes it's Devilry either on the following Monday or
Subsequently the Monday after that.Never does it begin on a Wednesday
or a Thursday, neither is it likely to end on a Tuesday or a Friday,
and always, always it's a number divisible by five. Mr Finn I find the
whole process fascinating on HOW alcohol abuse at the weekend can
manifest itself into so many different ailments on the proceeding
Monday morning. By the way I wouldn't dream of giving you another ear
problem you already have one to contend with don't you? And I think one
is more than enough for anybody. I might be able to fit you in on
Wednesday morning at 10:00am would that suffice?"

"Bitch."

"I'll take that as a yes then, good morning Mr Finn, you too have a
pleasant one."

Celia replaced the receiver nonchalantly several seconds after he
slammed his, and then booked in Mr Finn's appointment for 10:00am on
Wednesday morning on her PC monitor. She looked in disbelief "Tut! Tut!
Celia," she chided herself " It's Mr Fuckface not Mrs Fuckface, and i
forgot to ask for his date of birth."

Around her colleagues and waiting patient's looked on amazed, Celia's
instincts caused her to glance up at the unnerved audience.

"Is everything alright Celia?" It was Deirdre Celia's long time friend
and colleague.

"Why of course darling, everything is hunky dory. Why?"

"Hunky dory? You never use words like that."

At that moment Chloe, Dr Finchley's gloriously blond student daughter
appeared out of the ladies, she was Summer help in reception, she was
usually devastatingly attractive, this morning however her face was
turmoil as a result of heavy unabated tears, one glance from Celia sent
her scurrying back from whence she came, howling like a Harpy. Deirdre
sensed all was not well, "Whatever is the matter with Chloe?"

"Oh I think it was something I said to her," Celia replied
indifferently.

"Why!! I mean what could you have possibly have said to cause that
reaction?" Deirdre was confused where had all the pristine sweetness
gone, where was the Teutonic efficient superiority that the ladies in
reception at the Hazelpine Surgery we're used to exuding. Celia had
just said Fuckface twice, seconds after insulting a patient on the
phone.Her voice was also strange, strained a couple of tones up from
the normal cool diction she was used to presenting. Perfection seemed
so far away today. Celia chimed in a jolly fashion.

"Yes, I remember now Deirdre, I said "Chloe darling, no offence is
intended but you wear our uniform like a barmaid slut, patients here
don't want to ogle at your tits young lady, if your ambition is to be
gangbanged by the local scum, then why not apply for one those jobs
that those trollop's occupy at " The Festering Mule," I mean you're far
better looking than any of those little tarts." The lack of concern in
Celia's expression told Deirdre something was definitely wrong with
Celia. Deirdre looked at her old friend anxiously not sure what to do,
bracing herself for Celia's next remarks.

"Deirdre, darling you appear to have saliva on your chin, well on one
of them anyway Heh! Heh!" and then she giggled, Celia never giggled.
Deirdre horrified, clasped a hand over her own mouth and the alleged
dribble, the look in Celia's eyes was buoyant, but evil, one of total
discord, an outer harmony and perfect dress sense masked an inner
tumult.

An hour later after a lovely chat with Dr Samms where Dr Finchley was
also present in his usual chubby, busy energetic way, it was decided
that Celia should take the remainder of the day off to think things
over. In fact Celia wasn't to return until Dr Samms had paid her a home
visit, apparently her refusal to apologise firstly to Chloe and then to
Deirdre was making things slightly awkward, in fact calling Dr Finchley
a Noodle-dicked arse wipe was now also an additional problem. Dr Samms
advised Celia to take time out to think about what was said and to
think about what needed saying once(if) Celia returned. Celia liked Dr
Samms he was a splendid fellow. Dr Finchley on the other hand was as
said.

The early finish meant Celia could take a lovely long walk up the hill
from the Hazelpine, and do a little shopping into Staverton's town
centre.Through the town park she strolled, although late June overcast
clouds brought a welcome chill to the air, just enough to cool Celia,
she was hot and edgy and the first few sprinkles of cloud moisture were
just beginning to dampen her brain rage and lift her muzzy confusion,
the calm serenity of the bowling greens, the tasteful statues of people
no one had heard of and the small fish pond were uncoiling Celia
slowly.

"You got a light Missus?" A voice not worthy of this place, Celia
turned and there in "The Quiet Spot" an alcove, covering four female
wretches from impending rain, they looked at her hopefully, fag in each
of their spindly little fingers, bodies of 20 yr olds, faces of 40 yr
olds, add the two together and you got their I.Q.A pram in the middle
with one of their spawn (reminded Celia of the three witches around the
pot in Macbeth, only there were four here) and one of the girls
appeared to have one on the way. Celia smiled sweetly.

"If I did have a match my dear, which I don't, I would light it only to
set fire to the four of you and the pond life you and your partners are
creating or have created, I take it you two know who the Fathers
are?"

The four synchronised, with a ciggie each between index and middle
finger, dressed in "Fruit of the loom" and "Timber jack's" Sweat's and
jogging pants, gaped back silent in unison. Leaning forward altogether,
elbows on thighs, and a fag never more than inch away from any of their
ragged begging lips.

"You dear you are you expecting aren't you? Or are you just obese?"
Celia asked the largest girl. She nodded nervously in reply. " I take
it that means yes to the former, and what is it you hope to have my
dear? A burglar, drug dealer or perhaps he might become a wife beater
like his father eh!"

"It's a girl," she replied timidly, but Celia's rage was back
again.

"Some people are better off as dust, and some of those people are you,
you have no function or worth you just exist to leech off decent people
like me, you procreate and pollute, there should be a decree to atomise
the likes of you, to save the likes me and likes of you from
unnecessary pain, it is in my opinion that this is the humane thing to
do."

Celia gave the girls one last look, a dismissive look, an Owl's look of
execution upon a family of vole's, she then turned and sauntered away,
rain was falling now, falling heavily. Celia decided to give shopping a
miss and head for home.There was a tune on the radio that mornng, Celia
normally hated modern stuff, but this little piece of morbidity had a
line and a three key piano riff she couldn't help humming.

In Staverton high street, Bernard started his bus, he was early but
hardly a soul used the service between Midday and late afternoon,
probably the next passenger would appear about 15:30pm, but you could
never tell, for eight hours he would mill at his leisure around the
designated route, a route that took fifteen minutes, he could do this
route twenty five times a day. Rain now bucketed down, another English
Summer had come and gone, he began to pull away first checking his
mirrors. He noticed Celia, she was strolling, she was drenched from
head to foot, so he waited because she would obviously want to get on,
she was an afternoon regular, but today she was early? Usually she got
on the 16:15pm. He smiled and Celia carried on walking by without a
glance, just a head on dead expression, determined to fulfil a goal,
Bernard and the number ninety-two weren't needed.

"Aren't you getting on love?" he called jovially. She stopped and
walked back to the open bus door.

"This is what you get when you mess with us, this is what you get." She
sang tunelessly, her eyes were fully fixed on Bernard. He fidgeted
nervously.

"Are you.....you alright love" he croaked.

"I feel wonderful Bernard, it's a beautiful day and the world is my
Oyster...mind you i can't get this bloody tune out of my head, do you
know it? This is what you get when you mess with us, this is what you
get." She'd obviously lost it.

"Sorry i can't say i have......sounds cheerful though," Bernard now
wanted to shut the doors.

"Oh well never mind i imagine i'll hear it again, bye Bernard i believe
you're now way behind schedule now, we can't have that now can we?"
Celia cackled heartily and strode off into the deluge.Bernard shut his
doors hastily and breathed in heavily.

"Well blow me," he said, "what the hell did they put in her coffee this
morning?"

Thirty minutes later a bedraggled Celia entered Fineshade Avenue, it
was 13:05pm. Greville would be sitting with the evening meal, but it
was unlikely he would be surprised to see Celia home so early, Greville
rarely showed emotion of any sort. The curtain at number sixty-two
twitched, now she now knew why it twitched, she stood and stared at
number sixty-two, saturated by drumming rain, grinning, laughing,
smiling like a loon, staring into number sixty-two.She found a puddle
and began splash in it manically.

"This is what you get when you mess with us, this is what you get." she
repeated.

"Celia," another familiar voice, she turned and it was another pal,
Geraldine she looked very concerned and very silly, she'd overdressed
to combat the rain, in a headscarf long coat and brolly.

"Geraldine, you look absolutely ridiculous," laughed Celia.

"What are you doing Celia?" she ignored the remark.

"Well," giggled Celia, "there is wonderful, wonderful news the lady
here at number sixty-two is expecting a baby, isn't that
wonderful?"

"Well, yes of course it is Celia?. but why are you er?we standing here
in the pouring rain, glaring into number sixty-two, you don't know the
woman do you? I wasn't even aware she had a partner." Replied
Geraldine.

"And if anybody would be aware Geraldine, it would be you wouldn't it
Geraldine?" Geraldine not really listening continued to peer into front
room of number sixty-two, "Only this time the two of them fooled you
and me."

Celia started to walk for home; oblivious to this Geraldine continued
talking "I don't think she's in Celia." Still in earshot Celia called
back to the stunned Geraldine.

"Oh, she's in alright Gerry, don't you worry, she's standing there in
the dark, frightened by the storm, twitching, shaking like a scared
little mouse, it's all been too, too much for her."

"Well perhaps we should offer her help." Shouted Geraldine.

Celia waved her bag back like a teenager, skipping home from school in
the sun. " Don't worry darling, I'll have to think of an idea or two
for the missy who lives at number sixty-two, bye, bye Gerry." Celia had
called Geraldine, Gerry, this wasn't Celia, Celia didn't shorten
people's names, Celia skipping in the rain? " Quite bizarre," muttered
Geraldine to herself.

When Celia let herself into number ninety-six, as she guessed Greville
was sitting at the dining table with the evening meal, just as she
thought he showed no interest let alone surprise at her early return,
she tried a prefunctionary " Hello," but got no reply, so she wandered
upstairs and decided to shower and get changed. Whilst showering, she
thought back to what Greville had said the previous night at the dining
table.

"Celia, I have bad news, I'm leaving you for the lady at number
sixty-two, I don't love you anymore, in fact I don't think I ever did.
I've been seeing Melanie for over a year, today she gave me an
ultimatum along with other news," he paused for her to digest this
which she did " I think it's best, don't you if I leave?" This was all
delivered in a matter of fact way and directly told, Celia didn't
appear to have a say on the matter.

After changing she came back downstairs, entered the kitchen took out
the bread and some Stilton, she was feeling just a little peckish, half
day at work had meant she'd missed her afternoon croissant with
Deirdre. She walked back into the dining room looking puzzled.

"Greville have you seen the bread knife I can't find it?" Greville
again offered no reply, just sat there back in his chair, his skin
colour now turning granite grey. Eyes an entrance to a vacant lot, his
head lolled to one side resting between shoulder and chest. "Ah! There
it is silly me," Celia walked around to his side of the table and
pulled out the knife that she'd impaled in his chest the previous
night, although it took some effort it did come, Celia had found new
strength recently.
Without wiping the knife she cut her bread and cheese, and devoured it,
thoroughly enjoyed every bite..

That evening while Greville sat with the evening meal, Celia enjoyed
Parma ham and a nice tomato and green salad while watching "I Claudius"
on UKGold, this was the episode where 'John Hurt' as 'Caligula'
jealously expedited the pregnancy of his lover and sister. How
gruesome, how entertaining and how thoroughly useful, it gave Celia a
wonderful idea on how to deal with Miss Melanie at number
sixty-two.

Monday was always mad in reception at the Hazelpine, Celia had felt
little strange today with Greville's announcement and all; luckily she
didn't think anyone had noticed.