Tuesday, 22 March 2011

"All good things in life is either immoral or fattening"

Yesterday I finally, 7 months later, went to register with a GP.
Have had my fair share of "walk in clinics". Dont know what it means in south London, but in north london walk in clinics means hangout place for outlaws. And me.
Asked at the desk downstairs where I should go. After a very long and judgemental "Oh god, you should have done that on the day of arrival my dear!" the nice lady said a name of a clinic and some directions.
I went, filled out 25 forms, got an appoinment to "actually" register 3 weeks from now(apparently you are not in until youre in.) and a cup.
- Bring this cup filled with zdfjisd to your appointment
- Fill with what? (I got it, I just wanted her to say it again)
Oh she´s gonna get some urin alright....

Called Gerda who was "up for a pint". And like always, her wish is my law. That I was sporting the worst of casual mondays with no makeup and loose jeans had nothing to do with it, to islington I went.
My law is not (nor was her wish), however, to have one pint of beer turn into 6 and lots of cheese cake and finally crashing at her place...
Oddly satisfying feeling to wake up NOT too hungover, and for once NOT being the one who screwed up the night before, next to someone who is very much hungover and who did.

Oh the irony....

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