There is a children's corner, refreshingly free of those two things doctors surgeries always have; those twisted wire affairs with coloured beads probably used with earnest intent to hone
motor skills or some other joy-sapping reason. And children.
There is a majoresque type with crutches, a girl with impossibly blonde hair and orange skin and a toothless crone.
The reading matter which is usually banal, dog-eared and generic is, in fact, surprisingly challenging;
I experienced a first (and possibly once) in a lifetime experience when I arrived. A helpful doctors receptionist. She didn't quite smile but she didn't make me feel that if I'd mentioned I had a terminal illness (I don't) she would have rolled her eyes and muttered 'not another of these time-wasters'
The waiting room, that would comfortably sit about 20 people has no less than 18 lights! Half moon wall lights, sunken spots and several foot long florries.
Surely if they were going to provide an average of two lights per person an a steady day, they should have made them angle-poised and gone the rest of the way with individual booths and desks.
Well I'm still here and the drama is slowing so I'll do some of my homework.
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