MrM and I are not very patient with officialdom and today there seems to be lots of it including sorting out some road tax for him and arranging the scan for me. While sorting out road tax should be straightforward, we've waited almost a month for our documents to arrive, meaning that we haven't been able to drive the car for a month.
While MrM has to actually drive to the DVLA and announces that he is the 31st person in the queue, I call the hospital to book a scan. I am on hold for just over an hour, listening to the same message again and again. It's with a jolt of realisation that I realise that an actual human is shouting at me, asking if I'm here. She yells at me so loudly, that I can only pray that no-one can overhear her end of the conversation.
Firstly, she asks for my name and address and then repeats my surname at me in such a sneering tone that I wonder if I'd accidentally said: "Mrs Toilet-Paper-Flu-Bursting-Foam".
She then yells a date at me and tells me quite loudly and unnecessarily that this was the date of my last period. I suppress a laugh with a loud snort that she takes to be a confirmation.
She then offers me an appointment at the hospital (which is in walking distance of my house). The appointment is a month away (the end of June) and I can't make it. I tell her that I have to work as the real reason is unlikely to go down very well.
"But you have to get this done before the 14th as you've left this so late!" she shrieks. "So why have you given me an appointment two weeks after that date then?" I ask, perhaps a little unreasonably. "Hmmmm. You'll have to go to the other hospital. How is next week?" she asks. The other hospital is 30 miles away. I bite my tongue and agree but it seems the damage is done and I've already annoyed her. The appointment is at 8am.