Brassknocker Hill, specialist and burnt pizza

Today was the day of the appointment with the specialist.

The clinic is between Bath and Bristol on a road I know well. Bath is murder to drive into on any day but more so with the Christmas market in full swing. 

I chose to go around Bath, via Bradford on Avon, past Limpley Viaduct and up Brassknocker Hill. All very picturesque but I hate Brassknocker Hill! It is so steep and a nightmare if you go up a gear when you meant to go down one.

Anyway, I arrived safely at clinic. The waiting room was full of middle aged, middle class men and a coffee table of magazines that I had never heard of. I was in for a dull wait which dragged on for half an hour.

I now know what the problem is. It is not sinister but it can't be worse than it is. At least I can now have a procedure and be pain and infection free at last.  Just have to wait for that appointment now. Such fun.

To treat myself, I decided on a Spinach and Ricotta pizza with rocket and chilli oil for tea (and it's not a Saturday!) As it was cooking, Gary rang to speak to Clive. Clive was on a plane, flying to Newcastle.

The last time Gary rang when Clive was on a plane to Newcastle was the night of the incident. And I told him so. 

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