The saga continues...

The taxi was waiting for me at Fenchurch Street and away we went to the London Chest Hospital. Just as I arrived, Andrew was finishing. It was good to say “Hello” but there wasn’t time for much else. There were only two tests this time, but they were still hard work. I had to hold my breath for as long as I could and breathe out fast ‘til my lungs were fully empty. I was finished in no time.

The taxi driver who picked me up, didn’t know where Fenchurch Street was. “Is it near Liverpool Street?” he asked. As we left the hospital he turned left. I was sure he was supposed to go right. Oh well. He played with his satnav as we drove around. He didn’t seem to have any idea where he was going. Several wrong turns and satnav taps later, it found its destination. And we found Whitechapel Road and turned right. At last, I thought. We’re going in the right direction.

 “What number?” he asked. “Eh?” I was confused. “What number Fenchurch Street?” “I want the station.” “Oh.” Then he drove right by it.

 As I got out of the taxi, the clouds were as black as night. In the other direction there were large patches of blue. But the speckles of rain in the air suggested a torrential downpour was imminent. As the train pulled out of the station, the sun came out. I dived into my book and when I looked up, the heavens had opened. Oh dear, I thought. I hope it stops by the time we get to Southend. It didn’t. I hovered in the station trying to decide if it was a short shower or in for the day. Oh what the hell. I dashed to the car and got wet. By the time I got home, ten minutes later, the sun had come out.