@ The Docs

The tiny little brown enclosure at the local village docs was happily filled with a great collection of gossiping Basques, chirpily chatting away as if they were at a jovial function, it was great! If only I could have understood a single word of what they were saying, as I can imagine I would've found myself fully uploaded with the goings on in the sleepy little rainy mountain town of Irassary. Slowly and surely though, as the queue began to die down, and nice little round men began strolling out clutching beautifully hand written prescriptions from the docs, we knew our time of consultation would surely come. A woman with a kind face started talking to me in French about my leg, I think I managed to get across to her that it wasn't broken but she looked at me kind of strange. Tony T as ever, was there to translate for me and as ever, I enjoyed kicking back + engulfing my slow brain with attempts to decipher what dialogue was being exchanged between my host and my new waiting room pal. My face must've lit up like anything when I heard her ask Tony; "She goes to school?" to which we both, with great astonishment replied;

"She's twenty-nine!"

"Twenty-nine?!"

"Yes, twenty-nine!"

"Mais, non, I thought she was eighteen!"

And so that was the moment that I decided I liked my new waiting room pal even more.