One Flew Over the Cuckoo Clock

Whimsy on a Wednesday bringing you a curious link between health checks, alarm bells, and tiny terrors.

Birches and Bluebells by Jules Smith

There’s no rhyme or reason for anyone to fancy eating a whelk. That’s what I was thinking as I drove home a minute ago so I thought I’d share it.

I had an early fasting visit at the doctors. Something about needing a yearly check which I was most surprised at since you generally can’t get in to see a doctor. Having said that, I quite like their new fangled appointment service options now. I no longer have to wait several hours in a phone queue at precisely 8AM in order to get an appointment for the day and failing. I can go online and make demands of the doctor via message. Much easier. I recently tested this and he rang me within 15 minutes and asked me to come in before they shut shop for a prescription. I’m telling you, it’s all in how you word it.

“I’m on a dog walk in the wilds of the forest, doc. No can do.” I’ve got to say I was shocked at this level of service and wondered if I had a serious illness.

“If you can’t get in then go to the chemist. They can now give you antibiotics. No appointment necessary, just walk in.”

Well, what a turnaround! I did exactly that and got what I wanted after having the time to pop a lasagne in the oven and put a bit of lippy on. I’m very much in favour of this no-nonsense approach.

Anyway, as I was sitting at the docs, they had a bit of broadcast on the waiting room telly about why GP’s are struggling. I cynically sniffed and curled a lip but listened regardless. I forgot to bring my book and I like stay off my phone when everyone else is on theirs so I can watch them being addicted and socially awkward. Besides, if a lion were to stroll in I would see it first and be able to run off. Situational awareness.

The GP broadcast stated how it understood the problems that people were having but that doctors are seriously overworked, many practices have closed, there are way more people, and the people are getting sicker.

Hmm I wonder why that is? I reckon it’s food related. Chemicals, fast food, all this yummy addictive stuff? Or whelks…

And then they said that practices were a lot more expensive to run and doctors only received 30p per patient; less than the price of an apple. I was thinking, that can’t be right, trying to work out how many people a doctor might see and how many 30 pence that was when the nurse called me in.

I wonder what nurses get? Is it less? Am I on the 20p list?

“Have you fasted?”

“Yes, I might be a bit testy because I haven’t had my bacon yet.”

“I get you. Urine?”

“You’re out!… Oh, it’s not a game.” I pulled the sample from my bag wrapped in a beautiful serviette with a floral design because I thought that made it look more attractive.

Blood pressure was high. She did it again. Still a little high and then I remembered that I forgot to take my tablet the day before and I hadn’t taken it yet today. I didn’t tell her that. We put it down to having to run around without bacon or tea at such an ungodly hour. They said they’d call if any results were alarming and that was the end of that. Despite being a bit cuckoo, I’m still alive.

Talking of Cuckoos…

At the pub quiz the other night (which we won, just sayin’) the group started talking about cuckoo clocks. Having heard the cuckoo clock stories, which I will regale shortly, I can only liken it to an experience of my own. This was not a cuckoo clock but a singing doorbell that I bought in a moment of joy and naivety three houses ago.

“It plays all sorts of tunes randomly and it will make answering the door a much more interesting experience!”

Be careful what you wish for.

The doorbell was a novelty for about a week and then it started to become a trigger for violent outbursts. Particularly when you live opposite an old spinster who constantly has something she simply must tell you.

On one particularly sunny day, the door bell rang, not once or twice with the Grand Old Duke of York and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, but relentlessly. Not only had the lady across the road arrived with something to say but so had a child with a scalded foot from a trip to a MacDonalds birthday party. I cursed to the tune of Yankee Doodle ringing out around the open- plan diner as I pulled my hands out of the cookie dough stuck to my fingers thinking how am I going to open the bloody door?

Enter screaming child with scalded foot and shouts of “GET ME A BUCKET OF ICED WATER NOW!” And old Beryl, following behind at haste, only to fall flat on her face on the terrazzo tiles where she knocked herself clean out. At this convenient point, our aged dog decided to have a stroke. Can’t say I blame him, and Waltzing Matilda was the last straw. That’s when I decided the bell was being ripped out of the wall.

Dan, at our pub quiz, said his sister has a cuckoo clock and the cuckoo only comes out randomly when it feels like it. Last week it was at 3.17 PM on a Wednesday. They are eagerly awaiting its next call with trepidation.

My mum also has a beautiful Bavarian cuckoo clock that she paid a handsome price for so she could say, “I have a Bavarian cuckoo clock”. Problem was, the cuckoo started to get right on her nerves, so on one wet Wednesday morning she ripped it clean off its perch. It has recently been repaired at the local repair shop now that she feels more mature and able to deal with cuckooing on the hour. However, whilst the man has mended it to the the best of his cuckoo clocking ability, he said that the cuckoo is not playing ball. Apparently when it does decide to come out it goes absolutely berserk.

Personally, I think somebody needs to investigate as the cuckoos are clearly demented and something is awry. It is said that if you hear a cuckoo from the left it is unlucky but if you hear it from the right it is good luck. What happens if you hear it going bat shit crazy?

We are taking bets on how long the cuckoo is going to last.

Talking of Wildlife…

I recently came across a photo of an insect.

This is an ant, magnified five times under a microscope and it won a photography award a few years back. This is the first time I’ve seen it and I have got to say I am not enamoured. Thank God they are tiny.

In more prettier pictures, please pay homage to my wolfit, Halo the Grey, who is 6 whole years old today.

I took this photo yesterday on our evening walk through the forest which I think suitably captures his noble magnificence.