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Nov. 27th, 2009 04:08 pmA message this morning via text from the lady at my office, to say she's been told that to rent out her annexe as a self-contained flat she would have to apply for change of use planning permission, so she had to cancel my coming over this afternoon. After the end of the shift I phoned her; she was most apologetic and explained again about the planning permission. She added was unlikely she'd be applying as her neighbours would probably oppose it, since when she had a tenant before they'd complained about them parking and coming and going. So back to the local press.
My blood donation appointment was for 2.05 pm, but since I was just hanging around Fareham town centre I went to the venue, the United Reformed Church, when the session opened at 1.30. The admissions lady remarked on how early I was and said she was sorry but I'd have to wait until the appointed time, but in the event I got called just a few minutes after handing in my health check form. I warned the lady who did my health interview and finger-prick test that on my last two donations they'd had to go deep to find a vein and get the venepuncture expert to help; she said Pete wasn't here today, but someone called Pam was. She had to go and get my form approved because I'd been on prescription medication since my last donation, but since I came off it six weeks ago it turned out not to be a problem.
After going through to the donation area, I wasn't kept waiting long. Pam remained unmet, but my first lady carer did find my veins too deep for her to work with and got another lady to do me. She found a side vein the most suitable today, but needed two strips of tape to keep the needle in place. "When this comes off I'm afraid you're going to get a free waxing." Once the needle was secured I had no trouble giving. Back into the reception area for a cup of coffee and a Club.
Surprise, surprise, there were problems on the buses. When I arrived in the bus station there should have been an 82 ready to go, but there was nothing in the Gosport-bound bus stands, just a horde of fed-up people hanging around. Now and again a yellow-jacketed member of First staff would rove the forecourt with a clipboard, but I never heard any of them tell any of us waiting masses what was up. Finally, an 85 showed up ten minutes behind schedule and took some of the crowd; the next 82, twenty minutes after my arrival, was on time.
Standing by the roadside beside the garage on Gosport Road was Sam Gyimah, one of our four would-be Tory MPs, holding up a board for us on the bus to read out of the window, with the message "For a fresh start in Gosport - Sam's your man!"
My blood donation appointment was for 2.05 pm, but since I was just hanging around Fareham town centre I went to the venue, the United Reformed Church, when the session opened at 1.30. The admissions lady remarked on how early I was and said she was sorry but I'd have to wait until the appointed time, but in the event I got called just a few minutes after handing in my health check form. I warned the lady who did my health interview and finger-prick test that on my last two donations they'd had to go deep to find a vein and get the venepuncture expert to help; she said Pete wasn't here today, but someone called Pam was. She had to go and get my form approved because I'd been on prescription medication since my last donation, but since I came off it six weeks ago it turned out not to be a problem.
After going through to the donation area, I wasn't kept waiting long. Pam remained unmet, but my first lady carer did find my veins too deep for her to work with and got another lady to do me. She found a side vein the most suitable today, but needed two strips of tape to keep the needle in place. "When this comes off I'm afraid you're going to get a free waxing." Once the needle was secured I had no trouble giving. Back into the reception area for a cup of coffee and a Club.
Surprise, surprise, there were problems on the buses. When I arrived in the bus station there should have been an 82 ready to go, but there was nothing in the Gosport-bound bus stands, just a horde of fed-up people hanging around. Now and again a yellow-jacketed member of First staff would rove the forecourt with a clipboard, but I never heard any of them tell any of us waiting masses what was up. Finally, an 85 showed up ten minutes behind schedule and took some of the crowd; the next 82, twenty minutes after my arrival, was on time.
Standing by the roadside beside the garage on Gosport Road was Sam Gyimah, one of our four would-be Tory MPs, holding up a board for us on the bus to read out of the window, with the message "For a fresh start in Gosport - Sam's your man!"
