Reception duty, fairly quiet. Nobody complained about the state of the toilets tonight, a hot topic for the Bury Free Press (which costs 45p incidently). I did clear up a load of soggy paper towels left by the sinks though. Why do people do that? Why leave paper on the floor and all over the place? Mr Disgusted of Stowupland should moan about that before having a go at the hospital management.
Thought I might see the Samurai sword wielding nutter from Haverhill who got shot by the police (with a stun gun) and brought here last night. There was a guy with a police minder who came out for a smoke, but he looked pretty harmless to me. What is a man without his sword, eh?
One cheeky middle-aged chap came down from his ward for a fag outside dressed only in his surgical gown, the short flimsy thing that does up at the back with three bows. Gave the old ladies waiting in reception for their transport home something to smile about. Occassionally you see patients still attached to their gravity-fed intravenous drips, wheeling the pole carrying the drip bag (don't know technical term) beside them, out the front door and into the fresh air so they can smoke.
Trickiest query tonight: where can I get a pump for my partner's wheelchair tyres?
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