I had to go for a blood test, its Italy its never simple.....The usual no breakfast in the morning is about the only thing that is the same as at home, the rest is just well surreal.....

Get there before 8 am says the wife, it gets busy after that and we will end up being there all morning. We got there at 7:45, it was packed, half the village had turned up, although not to see me, more to find out what was wrong with them and if there was nothing wrong with them then why the hell not.....they would demand a second opinion !!

Food, the weather and illness, three things that all conversation in Italy is based on....without any of these no one would have anything to talk about. So you go for a blood test and its all "ooh ciao Filomena what you here for?" Oh i think its my liver, kidneys or spleen, everyone trying to outdo each other with a more dramatic ailment than their counterpart, even if you have to make it up.....and then of course gossip about it when you leave...."Ooooh guess who i saw this morning blah blah blah".

Strange thing to get used to in Italy its all surname then first name with everything, which is fine if you are called Garibaldi Giuseppe but when you have an "inglish" name and a middle one as an extra to boot i have to listen damn hard to what's being called out as half the time it sounds Chinese, Arabic or Russian much to the amusement of my other half who after spending 15 years in England with mis pronunciation is now laughing at mine.....

One woman at "check in", boy was she efficient. Give her your paper, stamp, sign, separate then photocopy, she then gives you three more to check and sign then repeat as previous and file. Surprisingly in either one of two Family Size Quality street boxes that seemed to have miraculously made their way to our little village - actually one might have been Celebrations, but not important, i digress..... 

I couldn't help noticing that as everyone came out they all had their arm raised in the air like they had severed an artery and no obligatory fluffy cotton ball stuck down with a plaster either...strange, is a blood test really that different....Then after a while normality resumed, fluffy balls and plasters, they must of had a delivery....ah just like home....a few raised arms but nothing so far too alarming UNTIL........

Out steps .....lets call her.........PRADA (like Chelsea but Italian version) arms, both raised aloft, like she had seen the Virgin Mary, wailing and crying, fluffy balls and plasters on both arms....my initial thought was, don't tell me that they think the blood is different in one arm than the other, surely.....OH MY GOD Prada exclaims, look what they have done, how can i go to work, how can i drive, i feel faint, so much blood they took,oh my god oh my god !!!!!! And then it happened Jennnnerrr Charrrleesss, my turn.....I left the waiting room with Prada either left waiting for a blood transfusion or tea and a biscuit just like at home.....her fate i would determine in the car park......

Six ferrules in front of me Ms Trunchball the other side of the desk "faccia il pugno" i obey and make a fist and she stabs me in the arm and starts filling them up....job done and she passes me a fluffy ball....but no plaster, must be saving some money on stranieri when they come for a blood test.....and off i trot....my arm folded with my fluffy ball.....not aloft like Prada.

Off we walk to the car park...."Vuoi un caffe'?" asks the wife....no lets go home i need my breakfast....and who do we see in the car park....Prada...sitting in her car with her arms bent, holding her fluffy balls in place and trying to reach the steering wheel, but just out of reach. Me i had already dumped my fluffy ball disappointed that i had no sticky plaster to hold it in place.... We were left wondering how long Prada was laid up for after her "blood transfusion" or what major ailment she was suffering from....i put it down to a bad case of "melodrammatico" which i am sure she, with a bit of over protection from her mamma  soon made a full recovery.

I was left to think about my impeding stool sample.....but far too traumatizing to write about in a blog....what happened in the bathroom stays in the bathroom.......*shivers nervously*

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