What we did on our summer holidays.

Really not the best of days. No one dead or even injured, so a long
way off being the worst of days too. But definitely one of the more
intensely frustrating.

One inevitably unsettled first night; excited children and loud
friends until long past late, followed by different exciting children
and a leaky lilo far too early. So far, so normal.

A civilised start, a beatifully sunny day, decent coffee and a summery
bowl of fruit. All good. And then a quick run into town to the local
hospital, pick up the missing vigabatrin, swing by the camping shop
for new beds, and then back to camp to enjoy the day.

Hollow laugh.

Local hospital had no doctors on duty, but kindly fixed up an
appointment for us with a localish GP, who very kindly wrote us out a
prescription; only minor issue being my misunderstanding the queueing
system and thus missing my magic number. GP had a pharmacy attached,
even better.

Or it would have been, if the pharmacy had had the drug in stock. They
kindly phoned the other pharmacies in town, and none of them had it
either. They then turned us out with the suggestion that we armed
ourselves with a copy of the Yellow Pages and phoned every pharmacy in
the local area until we found one which had it in stock. Great.

We decided to head back to the site to borrow the owner's directory
(and possibly phone too), making a quick call in at the camping shop
on the way. Happened to notice a large chemist on the same trading
estate, so called in to check. They did another phone around for us,
and found some tablets in nearby Big City. A kindly customer gave us
directions, but refused to tell us how to get to the nearest parking,
insisting that we didn't want to get into the "gyratory system" as
we'd never get out. So instead he sent us to some on street parking,
just 300 yards from the Big City Centre. Well. It would have been 300
yards, had we parked at the bottom and not at the top of what turned
out to be a ridiculously long road.

Anyway, we parked, we checked the meter which promised free parking
for blue badge holders, and we walked through the sweltering city
streets into the shopping centre, where we found the big chemist.

And then they didn't have any of the vigabatrin. And then they did,
but they couldn't give it to us. And then eventually, after another
hour of sIting, phone calls back to the original chemist and the
prescribing gp, and then finally, a good 2 hours after we would have
been back at the campsite if we had just driven all the way home for
it in the first place, we were free to walk the insanely steep path
back to the bus. In retrospect, giving Little Fish a chocolate
icecream to keep her spirits up may have been a mistake. Not only did
it melt more or less immediately, coating her dress (and hands and
face and hair) with thick chocolate goo, it also needed both her
hands, leaving me pushing Mog with one hand whilst using the other to
steer LF's joystick.

I think the parking ticket stuck to the windscreen on our return to
the bus was inevitable at this point. Parked in a marked bay, Blue
Badge on display, what did I do wrong? Aside from forgetting the
vigabatrin in the first place. To add insult, the fine is roughly the
same as the fuel bill would hVe been if we had just driven home for it.

Home again, via the camping shop, which, naturally, did not sell camp
beds. One double hopefully unleaky lilo instead, comfy but not great
for Mog, and then a giant traffic jam all the way back.

And then tea, and civilised friendly people, and late night cuddles
for girls, and maybe it hasn't been a truly awful day. Although Mog
has needed Chloral Hydrate, and LF's ventilator has now unplugged
itself for the 2nd time as I write this. And now there seems to be a
large gathering not terribly far from our tent, adults and children
and inbetweenies, all singing Abba songs. It's shoot them or join in;
if you don't hear from me again you'll know which I chose.

Tia