The weather is doing my head in. It protests too much. The only thing that remains consistent is that it is flaming freezing. Otherwise, the wind is up, the wind is down, the snow is flurrying, the snow is beating a retreat. It pours with rain, then the sun comes out. BAH.
Jason came home from early from work because Nottingham is under blizzard conditions. He rang me en route to make sure I was safe. At this point he was on the outskirts of Leicester and it was coming down hard.
I looked out of the French windows, approximately five miles from where he was situated. The sun was shining, the decking was beginning to dry off from an earlier rain storm.
Then we had snow.
Now we have no snow.
I am just sulking with the whole bally lot now.
I went to Sainsburys’ earlier in the day. I had random errands to run, including a visit to the pharmacy, so I decided Sainsburys’ was my best option for doing everything I needed to do quickly, without freezing to death.
It was absolute bedlam. It was like Christmas Eve all over again. People rushing around buying forty seven pints of milk and nineteen loaves of bread in case we get snowed in for a week or twelve. The queues at the tills were insane. It was a very depressing experience, all things considered.
I had various things to get from the pharmacy. Mainly I needed Migraleve. I haven’t had a migraine for a while (touching all wood in the vicinity here), but I have a period due, and am also really busy for the next little while. The two things usually combine to produce some kind of debilitating trauma, and Migraleve is a godsend.
For those of you who are lucky enough to not have to purchase it, it comes in two colours, pink ones, which contain paracetamol and an anti-emetic, which you take first, and then yellow ones which have co-codamol in, for if the pink ones don’t do the job.
Usually you can purchase them in a combination box. Today the lady only had one separate box of each, which I said I would take. It was at this point that the pharmacist strode over to say that she could not legally sell them to me. I pointed out that they go together. She nodded and said: ‘I know. But I can’t sell them to you. It’s the law.’ I looked at her like she was insane. She shrugged and said: ‘One has paracetamol, one has co-codamol’ you could overdose.’
I looked at the box of sixteen tablets she was happy to sell me. Some unlucky buggers can overdose on four. I could do plenty of damage with sixteen, were I so inclined.
This was not even taking into account the Sudafed, also containing paracetamol, that I had in my shopping cart, but which, as I was going to buy it at the main tills, and not the pharmacy, did not count.
Even though it does.
The lady was not for turning.
I didn’t wag my finger at her. It isn’t her fault. But really? Really? What a bloody stupid law.
Do they think that by legislating the number of tablets you can buy in one pharmacy visit, that those who are of a mind to top themselves will suddenly think:
‘Goodness. This is really tricky. In order to get enough tablets to kill myself with, I will have to buy some here, and at the main tills. I may even have to go to the petrol station situated right outside this store and buy some there too. That sounds far too time consuming. No. Dammit. I won’t kill myself today. In fact, I’ll give up the notion altogether and become an astronaut instead.’
Whereas those of us who are struggling on, and who just want to get rid of a bloody migraine so they can get through the daily grind, have to trek from pillar to post to get the right things for the job. I appreciate that were it a regular pain killer I could just pick it up anywhere, but Migraleve is only available over the counter at pharmacies, so for poor, tiny, feeble, violin playing, self pitying people like me, it is a bit more of a chore.
And I am lazy. And self righteous. And too cold to go to another chemist.
GAH. And BAH.