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My Struggle With Sweat

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caldrail

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A bright and early start for Caldrail this morning. My quest to discover the causes of my health issues now leads me on a major expedition into the countryside where Swindons hospital now resides. Of all the daft places to build one it's miles out on the fringe of wilderness. At least there's a footpath all the way there. Someone thought of that.

 

The Great Western Hospital has attracted a poor reputation of late. As far as I could tell, the staff were efficient, courteous, and very helpful, pretty much what we expect the NHS to be. Luckily though I wasn't parking my car there. Now there's a bone of contention, with too few spaces charged enthusiastically, and I noticed the parking attendant eyeing me suspiciously as I walked past the bus stop. His laser rangefinder was locked on to me. Sorry mate, I'm walking.... Yeah yeah, next time, eh?

 

Allow two hours for your appouintment, the letter said. I expected a chat with a doctor and a few simple tests. Instead I was poked, prodded, irradiated, and made to break sweat on a walking machine. "It's going to get faster... In ten seconds..." The nurse told me as I hung on for dear life wheezing and dripping with sweat. I'll bet she has a riding crop in her desk.

 

However, it wasn't all bad news. Having pretty young nurses rub all sorts of exotic gels on my body is not entirely an onerous experience. Help... I'm sweating....

 

Oh yeah. I'm nearly as fit as a fiddle. Apparently all I'm probably suffering from is aggravated middle age. So a job with NASA is still on then?

 

it's A Hot Day

No sooner had I recovered from exertions in the hospital than I had to walk home again, and the sun is extraordinarily warm today. Help... I'm sweating....

 

It's A Hot Meal

A quick pit stop at home before embarking on the next part of my busy day. Haven't got time to cook anything, so it's the left over chilli from the weekend sitting in my fridge. Gulp. Not sure if that's a good idea.... A few minutes in the microwave... Ping!... And now to torture my tase buds with exotic spices the likes of which have ne'er been swallowed before.... Help... I'm sweating...

 

Meanwhile, Back At The Programme Centre

Oh heck... I've got jobs to find and so little time left to apply for them before the centre closes for the afternoon. Help... I'm sweating....

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Catching the rays has become a very working class english thing to do, providied there's plenty of lager to lubricate the sunshine. Oh, and short trousers are essential sun-bathing apparel. Muscles are just showing off.

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