“You’ll have to come back when there’s a doctor here” she said. “We’ll send a taxi for you.”
“A wheelchair taxi?” I asked. “That can take my electric wheelchair?”
“Yes.”
Resigned to another visit to the medical centre, I sat back in the chair while the manager made the arrangements. For all that I dislike about ATOS, the office manager seemed kind enough.
“OK, that’s all booked then. The taxi will collect you at your home at 12 on the 10th of August.”
I’ll let my tweets tell the story of the journey. Includes swearing and typos.
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