Grange Hill...

Gracing our TV screens during my formative years in the late seventies and eighties, with school based storylines that both entertained and educated, and featured on screen relationships that mirrored out own teen aged angst ridden years. 

This mythical school set in North London became like a friend to many as we dashed home from school twice a week to catch up on the latest episodes. It was junior soap, like Eastenders, and Corrie, even to the point that some of Britain's finest acting "talent" trod the boards first in Grange Hill (Todd Carty went on to become Mark from Eastenders, whilst Susan Tully morphed into Michelle Fowler of the same soap.

And just as those hapless souls lived out their timetabled lives, so I was due on Monday for the last of my regular monthly clinic checks. I say "was due", for  I was unaware of this fact. I was under the misunderstanding that I was now on three monthly visits. So consequently didn't go to have my bloods tested prior, and then failed to show, in what medical staff term "DNA", Did not attend.

Blissfully ignorant of this planned meeting, I had a perfectly normal (for me) Beginning of the week, with oodles of "stuff" to focus on at work.

Like a calm and dozy afternoon school period,  this pleasant state of affairs was shattered by a text, that burst forth from my phone like some overwound school bell, which having been tightly coiled, sprung forth into action, releasing a rousing shrill blast that pierced the the still corridors and sleepy classrooms, and unleashing a rising sound as chairs scraped, teachers barked, students yelled, doors banged and footsteps reverberated to combine in a sleep shattering cacophony.

"Where were you on Monday? Are you OK" - demanded the concerned clinical nurse.

Oops, I thought, did I get it wrong? Evidently.

And suddenly from nowhere, in it flashed.....the required excuse!  Perhaps the time honoured favourite:

It wasn't my fault Miss....

My appointment letter was eaten by my dog,......or perhaps I could try.....my reminder was accidentally destroyed during whilst my suit was being dry cleaned by Mr Fung Woo, of the Shanghai Imperial Lotus Flower Dry Clean and Key Cutting Shop?

Suddenly I was whisked back to St Ann's Heath Middle School in 1978 Virginia Water, Surrey, and finding myself having to account for my misdemeanors.

I only hope that I dont get a detention when I go back to see the clinic with my rearranged appointment. Left waiting for the consultant as if stuck outside  the headmasters study.

(The 1970's were such a tonsorially cruel decade)