Would anyone like a cheque book or, for that matter, a supply of sleeping pills?
I have just got back from the bank, where I found that the cheque book I have been ordering and re-ordering since March, and waiting for in every post, had proliferated. There were now five cheque books neatly stock-piled in a pigeon-hole behind the reception desk. Every one of them clearly addressed to me.
Had no one thought of ringing me? I asked the manager, who had been lounging in a chair in the customer area, but now hurried back to his cubicle. Didn’t it strike anyone that the person to whom these were addressed must be either needing them or dead?
There was, predictably, no satisfactory answer. Taking refuge behind a swivelling computer screen, the best he could do was offer to destroy one or two of the surplus books ‘for safety’, and I left him sitting with the detritus in his lap.
NOT the branch referred to! © Secret Artist NW5
Very few people, of course, would want a cheque book nowadays, except to use as scrap paper: perfect for shopping lists. But a lot of insomniacs, who have to face their doctor’s disapproval each time they ask for sleeping pills, would be glad to share in the stash that I have accumulated.
This abundance is thanks not to my doctor over-prescribing, but to the now widespread system which allows the patient to by-pass the doctor and order repeat prescriptions direct from a designated chemist. All well and good. But in my case, the system broke down and I wasn’t only getting the medication requested, but everything I had ever asked for! So, in the middle of winter, I was getting ointment for insect bites and a hay-fever spray.
I tried more than once to straighten this mess out. It proved surprisingly difficult. But there was one good outcome. By the time it was sorted, I had collected enough sleeping pills to be sure that, when the time comes, I won’t need to go to Switzerland.