I had to take the Weasel to see the nurse at our surgery the other day. She had to have some blood tests. Mrs BW was going to be in Birmingham so that’s why I had to go. “Do I have to go in with her?” I asked a little bit pathetically.
“Oh course you do, the poor little thing* will be nervous. You’re her dad your need to give her some support.”
I pointed out that I tend to come over all faint at the sight of blood, and that if it involves a needle I have a nasty habit of passing out. She would be the one supporting me, literally.
So I took her. She was nervous, but I was worse. In we went. The nurse asked me if I would like to sit next to her. “Would it be okay if I sat over there in the chair by the curtain” I asked.
“Of course” she said “If you like we can pull the curtain round the chair so you won’t be able to see anything”
“Really” I said “That would be great”
She sighed and raised her eyes to the heavens. Apparently she was joking.
The Weasel was brave and later took a certain malicious pleasure in telling us during tea how many tubes full the nurse took and how dark it looked and….I think I’m going to faint.
*The Poor little thing is fifteen with attitude appropriate to her age.