Thursday, February 22, 2007

I have been doing voluntary work at a local clinic. A lot of it is spending mornings doing various clerical tasks, but occasionally I find myself working in a place where I overhear conversations between reception staff and patients. I think Harold Pinter must have had such a job once, because conversations in which neither speaker is to the point, and understanding is minimal, are the norm.

Lady at desk: He got a letter.

Person behind desk: Have you got an appointment?

Lady: No, he got a letter.

pbd: A letter from us?

Lady: I can't go to work today.

pbd: Have you got his letter?

Lady: No, he got a letter. I don't know.

pbd: What is your name?

Lady: Maria.

pbd: Maria. Where is the letter? Can I see it?

Maria: I haven't got a letter.

pbd: Are you the patient?

Maria: I just want to go to work.

pbd: Where is the patient?

Maria: What?



Then there are the ones where information seems to be wilfully withheld.:

Patient: (young, male, very cheerful)I think I might have an appointment here.

Person behind desk: For what?

Patient. Dunno.

pbd: Would it be an Xray?

Patient: Could be.

pbd: Have you got a letter?

Patient (Beaming happily): I did have.

pbd: What's your name?

Patient: Wayne

pbd (preparing to consult computer): What's your first name?

Patient: Wayne

And so on. and on and on.

Today, a perfectly normal looking man suddenly started to undress in the waiting room, displaying an impressive range of upper body tattoos. Nobody took any notice, just continued inquiring about his health insurance.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

I have been tagged by Marrickvillia, who wants me to go to page 123 of the closest book to hand, count down five sentences and transcribe the next three sentences. Why? I know not, but here it is.

There are two books on my desk: the C. Day-Lewis translation of Virgil's Aeneid, and Tacitus' The Annals of Imperial Rome (trans. Michael Grant). Tacitus was marginally closer, so here it is:

'He anticipated malevolence among senators and others, but believed that Tiberius had the strengh to ignore gossip and was also immobilized by his mother's complicity. Besides, he argued, it was easier for a single judge to distinguish truth from defamation: numbers encourage prejudice and hostile emotion.

Tiberius was fully aware of the problems of the investigation and the malignant rumours about himself. So, after listening - with the help of a few close friends - to the accusations and pleas of defence, he referred the whole case to the senate.'

Where, no doubt, it ended in tears.