Another earful day

A mere eleven hours in the office today from 7.30 in the morning until 6.30 in the evening. A bit bizarre. Mrs St Roud still in mourning for the departed Mr B (he's only left to work elsewhere, via a holiday in Qatar but it feels like a bereavement). Meanwhile his rubber helmet (don't ask) that we thought had been left in an Indian restaurant turned up in Miss A's handbag (we had been afraid to go back to the restaurant and look for it because the waiters were such a bunch of gropers). To make Mrs St Roud feel less lonely Motty stood on the desk and ripped out the partitions, but she just got snotty about it and said I should have undertaken formal consultation. Honestly. Then we started recounting our wackiest tales of life in the NHS. My two favourites were the woman who asked me if putting a dead cat in a microwave would bring it back to life, and the social worker who said he had a silver bullet belonging to a patient in our custody.

After a day like that you need some music.