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Am locked in war of attrition with the pharmacist. The west country hippy fest has infected/addled this poor man’s brain and he is wholeheartedly espoused to the cause of nature-good, man made-bad. His job is apparently to prevent you from using pharmaceuticals. This is a dangerous idea and puts him in harm’s way as he patiently (read: boringly and pedantically) explains his position to people who are ill and irritable.

Advice for backpain – gentle exercise! Not the industrial strength Brufen then!

Advice for hayfever – honey and staying in doors with the windows shut – what? on the school run!

Advice for Nits – olive oil and lots of combing – But I want DEET! or NAPALM!

Beginning to fantasize about ripping his ginger toupee from his head filling it with marmalade and whacking it back on with extra taps for emphasise. Am now planning my next move. Perhaps I should enquire as to whether the flea-drops for dogs can be used on children. Or the correct dose of sedative to give a 2year old who is having trouble sleeping. Shall we see who cracks first?

Oppressed husband is conducting his own feud with the station master who regards it as his duty to stop people buying season tickets. And the Customer Service Officer who must at all cost prevent people from travelling to their preferred destination.

In London when you ask for instructions or directions you receive a torrent of highly detailed verbage, at high speed and usually in an incomprehensible accent. Any enquiry in the West country is met with a long pause – followed by an ‘I don’t know ’bout thaaaa’ which to the uninitiated might seem like a considering pause – it is not – it is the ANSWER!

Slower pace of life not necessarily a good thing!