9:15am.
Doncaster Royal Infirmary.
Busy, hectic places are hospitals, full of patients exiting, entering, causing havoc, by both staff and patients i hasten to add.
But at Doncaster, excel this level by about 120%, and you may have some level of the degree of the havoc caused.
As a healthy member of the public, I was granted the chance of observing patients, and their, shall we say, attributes, much to the entertainment of myself.
I was worried that the two hours I was due to wait, but be ridiculously dull - i needn't have worried.
The morning events began with a long stroll to the hospital, no really, we parked so far away, we may have left the car in the drive (i live over 30 minutes away), but me dad assured me there would be no parking.
He was wrong.
Not only was there a space, but enough to fit three buses, two lorries and a couple of taxis thrown in for good measure.
As went entered the hospital, I was seated in the filled waiting room, as Dad left me to my own devices.
As people came and went, I was granted the pleasure of meeting a young, possibly three, year old boy, who is far beyond his years when it comes to reading, as he seemed enthralled with the train spotting magazine, poor boy.
It was half nine, and having no time for breakfast, I opted for the healthy Galaxy bar, which I removed from my bag and began devouring slowly.
What a mistake.
Despite being beyond this years with reading material, I don't think the youngster has ever witnessed chocolate, staring, bemused by the brown delicious food.
The train magazine felt from slight, as his eyes transfixed, leaving me in fear of being ambushed.
You'd think i'd give this adorable three year old, who is set to be the next Einstein a piece of my chocolate.
Bollocks.
That was mine, well it was until it was dropped on the floor, I almost screamed in horror, however realized this was a hospital, and a slightly unsuitable reaction.
I smile rose across his face, and I instantly knew this kid, was an absolute git.
As the scent of pastry delicacy wafted through the air, I was greeted with the pleasant sight of a dapper looking man waltzing into the waiting room.
Head up high, with an air of authority, this dignified man graced Doncaster waiting room with an air of class.
That was until the poor chap walked straight into a poorly placed chair.
I forgot to mention, the man was blind, and how and why no one was helping in is beyond me.
No stick, no dog, and now no dignity, all thanks to Doncaster.
The clock had turned half past ten, and with time ticking slower, I was in desperation of another exciting escapade.
I wasn't disappointed.
We've all seen Jeremy Kyle, (I know you don't like to admit it, but we all have, and you enjoy it. Yes you do). Well take that, and put it in a hospital situation.
Yes, that's in Doncaster.
The stero typical Jeremy Kyle type.
Over weight, over tattooed, over pierced and has no sense of awareness, or how to use an inside voice.
'I told ya ur dad 'ad form Bobbie'
'Nah do i f***, you're mum's a slag, blah, blah..'
Okay so i made the last bit up, but never the less, a domestic outbreak broke out in the middle of the waiting room, but to my delight, but to the horror for the 203 year old women to obviously never used/known of a swearword in her life.
They were then escorted out of the premises, but the smallest man you've ever seen, clearly not a security guard but a cleaner on his break.
As these became heated, my Dad returned much to my dismay, and I, very reluctantly, left Doncaster Royal Infirmary.
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