Seeing red

I'm not a fan of blood tests at the best of times. There's something very peculiar about the unpleasantly decorated waiting rooms, the tickets to enforce waiting in turn and the fact, as is always the case, there are far more people using the facility than it was designed for.

Someone just left the reception area because they couldn't speak English. Another patient offered to interpret, but the woman wasn't interested.

I'm pathetically squeamish. I loathe the thought of my own blood, but they presumably they won't take much today. I'm on number 92 at the moment - only 47 left.