We dallied a while in the Doc's waiting room, out of the swing of the market town, with just the sound of an elderly woman's oxygen tank ticking away.
Dr Roques had clearly smoked a couple of fags between patients before ushering us in. 
He coughed chestily into his mask while he took Bobby's blood pressure and Bobby coughed chestily while Roques listened to his chest.  En attendant, I took all my bangles off and weighed myself on the surgery scales and wasn't displeased.
Mu met us in Rue Victor Hugo and said I looked sweet.  I pushed her for specificity of specification and she told me I looked like mutton dressed as an embryonic lamb. I pushed for more specificity and she said I looked like a seven year old who'd got herself dressed on her own.
On the chin....