Post my experience with the National Health Service’s finest, I returned to work this morning with a vigour following my experience with some of the oddest people I have ever encountered. I felt a bit weary, but work offered it’s usual challenge of impromptu preparation for a hearing I nearly forgot about after my quick dash to the Northern General, and then the bizarre experience of seeing the most vile man I have ever encountered in court.
There are few people in this worked who could make my bloody run cold. I have truly got empathy for the bizarre, for the strange folk of the world. I think we could all identify one part of us that we think errs on the side of the freaky, that’s a bit unique and a tad, well, weird. But this man sickens me. He is truly one of the most evil people I have ever had the misfortune to meet. And he would never write me a character reference, having got an order to allow us to adopt his child. I tried to figure out why he was there, and realised there was a hearing we weren’t invited to. I tried to listen outside of court as they were told there would be no way the court could reopen the case allowing the children to be adopted. As he came out he called me an “evil, bastard c@&!” and threatened to throw me off a balcony. How lovely. All in a days work being your friendly, neighbourhood care solicitor for the Local Authority.
M-C and I went for a walk around town. Skinny hot chocolate from Costa and a risotto from M and S were purchased. In my quest for the perfect hot chocolate, I have a new front runner. A recent purchase from Philpotts was disappointing, to say it was Charbonnel and Walker chocolate powder. Cafe Nero was limp and unimpressive. Costa do me proud. The chocolate powder is added to the milk to start with, and the milk steamed as a chocolatey mix. It gets hot, mixed and gorgeously tasty. So for now, Costa in Waterstones is my Chocolate venue of choice.
Returning from town with my lunch, we faced another weird aggressive character. Near Sheffield Cathedral is a project for the homeless, which attracts a large number of local people, including street drinkers and very vulnerable adults of varying backgrounds. It’s bizarre, in a professional quarter being offset by people pissing up a cathedral and falling over every five minutes due to the fact they are drinking cider from seven am. As we strolled back to the office in sad resignation, some weird man on a bike rolled up towards us shouting “oi you bastard, I’m just saying I don’t like big fat N£&&?!@”. Nice. Both insulting and disgustingly racist. And completely unsolicited.
Tried the gym out. Ran for nine miles, fine, no worries re breathing. Body pump in the morning to balance it out. I think I do push myself too hard some times, but I just like to feel challenged. I think we all do. My next challenge is to try out my new Brownie Pan on Friday night. Coconut cupcakes and brownies for the trip to Ellesmere Port. After all, I’m not sure what the local cuisine is like over there. It could be all pan of scouse and cans of Skol. I’m far too classy for all that.
Right, off for my seven hours kip before more exercise. Hopefully it won’t be the tedious welsh woman who wittered me into near suicidal tendencies last week again. I’m not strong enough for all that.
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