That’s how they roll in England
Despite a wee set back with a bit of bother in the morning the rest progressed steadily from bad to best. Visited the surgery for the annual flu jab, got jabbed for Pneumonia to add and then usual go and see the nurse for your asthma. Mine’s not bad, it’s usually when I am in a plane or on the tube. No waking up at night unable to breathe kind of thing. So blew on a tube really hard, similar to an alcohol breathalyser, had the generic chit chat about London’s smog required at such moments and made my way to Starbucks for the usual tall Soy Latte with three shots. I am good with pain, proof which is easily admissible in the innumerable tattoos on my body, battle scars from sports and general disagreements with unlike minded individuals. So the injections were no big deal.
But while subsequently having an early lunch of string hoppers, pol sambol and kiri hodi (Lems got from Wembley on her way back from the Durga Temple), we took off to the Brent Cross shopping centre to visit John Lewis for some stuff for home. New carpets, cushion covers, crockery and such in preparation for Navaratri and Diwali. Bear with please while I digress. If you may wonder why we celebrate most holidays (Xmas, Avurudu, Wesak, Diwali) that’s the way we have always rolled, in SL and now in England.
So back to the injections and the general good service our local surgery hands out in abundance. Melo wisely comments on our way to Brent Cross and, I agree that living here does help me keep tiptop health wise. Somehow here I find that I am living a more healthy life. Yes I miss the domestic’s fabulous rice and curry, but somehow after living here for sometime you get used to a more healthy routine. You eat more fruit, exercise and your health is kept well supervised by your doctor. I have a blood test every two months where everything in my blood is checked and that everything in it is what it should be. Quarterly check ups with the doctor ensures that I am at ideal weight, have I shrunk in height, my blood pressure status, my feet in good condition and my urine clear. Mind you all of this is free. Via the National Health Service, bless their cotton socks.
I think also living in the sticks helps. The village, community feeling still exists, even though remotely this World War II community strive to maintain old world values. The local dry cleaners, funeral parlour, beautician, corner shops, veterinarian, bakers, fish & chippie, post office and Starbucks all exist down the high street to make their living. The classic tale of Tesco typified by the huge outbuilding and parking lot that proudly proclaims, ‘TESCO EXTRA’. The extra stands for ‘as well as your daughter, for the price of two, we give you three, we have now decided to screw your wife, her mother, her sister, your mother, your sister and everyone’s grandmother as well’. Apologies, I digressed, again.
So back to my health. My local surgery is pretty good. It helps one keep in tiptop condition. That’s the way they roll in England.
The point to this post?
THANK YOU LORD FOR ENGLAND’S LABOUR PARTY.
The pix of the fish buns BTW is my dinner. Remember Lems stopped in Wembley?