THE INVISIBLE PUNTER WHOSE PHONE IS ON THE BLINK

On occasions, the realms of 'getting old' and 'becoming invisible' do coalesce and I've certainly witnessed- and been party to- this over the last few days.

 

I was in town yesterday evening for the purpose of hooking up with an ex-colleague and, prior to our planned rendezvous, I took a quick bolt down to Red Eye Records to catch up on the latest 'arrivals'.

 

No problem, you say. Well, there wasn't except that in my travels I noticed that those spruikers, who distribute handbills for 'exotic' massages and fitness centres to anyone and everyone walking by, parted like the Red Sea as Moses (i.e. Me) shuffled by. The Exodus narrative may have been completed but I didn't have even one piece of papyrus to show for my journey.

 

The same sort of thing occurred again today. My mobile phone account isn't noteworthy for much telecommunications activity these days so that when an 'event' happens- like it rings!- this is a big deal.

 

Imagine my excitement this afternoon when I discovered that a message had been left for me and that I should ring 321 to retrieve it. Wow, it could be the Teachers' Federation regarding that article I enquired about or perhaps some think tank wanting my views on the current political situation in Romania.

 

I quickly rang 321 only to discover a recorded message from my local GP's office informing me that the new flu vaccine had arrived and, because of my age, I should seriously consider making an appointment for the shot. FUCK.

 

Ah well, I guess it could be worse. It may have been the podiatry clinic confirming my visit next week.

 

Posted on f/b on 21 April 2016.