Golf monthly...

I took a seat and waited my turn, eyeing a pile of old and dog-eared magazines on the ‘seen better days’, coffee table.
Sure they had seen better days, but they kept my hands busy and my mind occupied.
I put my glasses on, having succumbed to the fact that I now needed to use them most of the time.
It was a giggle to read, about that which we spoke of and wore in the eighties.
I was pleased to see too, that coq au vin had lasted the test of time and that relationships had not changed much.
We still asked the same questions and analysed the same outcomes.
“He comes home late and smells of 4711. Do you think there is another woman?”
My horoscope for May 1987 sounded fantastic, I pondered where I was then and what I was doing.
We each , in the room, surreptitiously eyed the other off and made mental notes of our respective turns in the wait.
An older man at the reception desk recounted his health dilemmas to the young girl who in turn, looked as if she could care less, though, in her defence, nodded in all the right places.
(Note to self, do not burden the girl at reception with your woes). Hard of hearing, the man was, so we were all privy to his address, phone number and incontinence problems.
A collective squirm and my fellow detainees and I resumed reading our selected and rivetting reads.
The young mother across the row of chairs, did her best to keep her newborn amused, while we all oo’d and argh’d at the snotty nosed toddler who built a lego tower that toppled ad nauseam.
I knew, that in a perverse way, all these scenarios were played out for my benefit, as fodder for my writing, that I would recall later. ( note to self, if you require fodder, frequent somewhere far more interesting!)
The young mother and her entourage were called and whisked away. The rest of us exhaled and with a relieved expression, one of ‘been there, done that’, resumed flicking through our mags.
So enthralled was I, that I thumbed through mine again, or was I just too lazy to get up and grab another?
A young man soon filled the now empty seat. Boy, had he been in the wars, so to speak. He had bruises down one side of his face and was nursing a very tender looking arm.
We gave him ‘the look’, mentally noted his obvious medical condition, his place in the queue and resumed reading.
I wandered over to the tatty magazines and selected another, loathe now to surrender the one I had been reading, for it had become part of me and I wanted to tear out the recipes. (well, don’t we all do that to the magazines in waiting rooms?)
A pointed check of my watch told me, that yes, as per usual the practice was running way behind time again, a fact not lost on the elderly couple who kept reminding us that the “practice is running way behind time again”.
Thankfully they were then called.
Hooray, two more empty seats to be claimed by the next arrivals.
“Sandra Smith”, called the handsome Doctor.
Me!
But I had not finished reading golf monthly circa 1992, no matter. I followed him down the hall, feeling the diagnostic eyes of my peers on my back as I did.
If they only knew, hehe…

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