Oh So Predictable…

 As predicted, my dental check up appointment for today has been cancelled by the dental practice. In the last five years, four of my annual appointments have been cancelled at the eleventh hour, needing to be rescheduled because the dentist I see is either off sick or there is something wrong with his car. That’s an 80% failure rate on his part. I wonder what his school attendance record looked like. I hesitate to use the word ‘flaky’ but what the hell - FLAKY!! 

Anyway, the dental practice sent me a cancellation text yesterday just after 3 p.m which, because of the variable mobile reception chez moi, didn’t turn up until gone 6 p.m which was too late for me to phone the dental practice to reschedule, so that’s an irritating job for me to do today. At least I didn’t waste time filling in the online forms that are sent with the many appointment reminders I receive from them. And now, when I make a new appointment I shall have another raft of reminders to look forward to - oh joy! (See what they’ve also done? They’ve triggered my sarcasm button, that’s what they’ve done. Pah!)

Of course, I am looking forward to hearing the excuse for cancelling my appointment with barely 18 hours notice THIS time. Perhaps it won’t be sickness or car troubles. Perhaps it will be something original, like a velociraptor blocking the practice door or all the dental equipment being stolen by an alien life force from the hitherto undiscovered planet of Spongemitten in the far flung galaxy of Gorblimey, a race well-known for their fastidious dental hygiene but their dental equipment factory has gone on strike because the canteen has stopped selling squid and cheese toasted sandwiches. Who knows? 

Of course, one of the biggest ironies is the warning printed on all the practice’s appointment cards/posters/emails/texts which states, ‘Please give AT LEAST 24 hours notice of cancellation. Otherwise a fee may be charged.’ They’ve never given ME at least 24 hours notice of a cancellation. I think I should demand a free appointment as recompense, don’t you?

In other thrilling Much Malarkey Manor news, and in honour of another incoming snap of cold weather, I went rogue yesterday and ordered an extra load of logs for the wood burner. I thought the last load might last us until Spring but it’s going to be a tight squeak and I am becoming of an age where I don’t want to feel cold any more. ‘Can we deliver them tomorrow?’ said the nice lady I spoke to. ‘Or is that a bit too soon?’ ‘Deliver away!’ said I. ‘I shall be here because I predict my dental appointment will be cancelled.’ 

Well done, log company! That’s what I call customer service. 

And finally, the purple sprouting broccoli that I sowed and growed (sorry, rhyme trumps grammar in this instance) is finally delivering its goods! All for me, of course, because Lord Malarkey is allergic to green vegetables.