I went for a pint of real ale at the Hospital social club across the road as soon as I was discharged around midday on day three. The general anaesthetic had made me incredibly thirsty. More so than usual...
The steward of the club spotted my hospital wristband and refused to serve me: “Can’t serve patients, it’s more than my job’s worth!”
”I have just been discharged. Have you got a pair of scissors?”
In the meantime, Her Loveliness had got lost and was headed to Portsmouth rather than Guildford, despite her SatNav...
When I asked the Gaffer: “Where’s the Hindhead Tunnel?” he said: “About ten miles away, in the wrong direction...”
At which point he took pity on me and poured me a pint. Eventually Her Loveliness arrived, but couldn’t park the car in the club car park, so I had to.
We headed back on the hundred odd mile journey to Coventry and had to stop twice at pubs because I was advised to: “Drink plenty of fluids”.
Cheers, John.