Catching the chat and not the bugs in the doctor’s waiting room - Susan Morrison

She’s got a right old sneer about her when she announces the numbers. She sounds like a French Eurovision presenter telling the world that once again, the UK have ‘nul points’. Couldn’t handle that level of judgement from a machine. Binned it and bought a silent version.

So, once again, I find myself lurking in various NHS waiting rooms. Actually, for the chronically curious (nosy), reception at doctors and dentists are catnip. People tend not to have headphones or earbuds in, especially if they are with someone. They tend to chat. And trust me, I tend to listen. I’m telling you, those sisters behind me are probably right, their mum’s new boyfriend sounds well dodgy.

Well, I have to amuse myself somehow. They don’t have the magazines anymore. It used to be the only time I ever caught up with ‘Women’s Own’, ‘Good Housekeeping’ or ‘Homes and Gardens’.

You could tell a lot about your dentist or GP by the glossies they left on the table. ‘National Geographic’ made them look like they were adventurous travellers, taking on the Hindu Kush in a second-hand Land Rover. Probably freaked out driving to Livingston.

‘Country Living’ gave off those cottage garden vibes so familiar to those of us living in Leith, although we do have enough wildlife to sustain a hunt.

‘Readers Digest’ used to be ubiquitous. A quick flick through could be dangerous. They used to run a series of medical articles about human organs, all of which belonged to a man called Joe. One month it could be his heart, the next his liver. Creepily, each organ introduced themselves, as in ‘I am Joe's liver’ or ‘I am Joe’s heart’.

Long before Dr Google, Joe and his chummy organs could be lurking in the surgery, waiting for an anxious victim to read and self-diagnose their gassy tum as the first stages of beri-beri.

The glossies probably vanished during Covid. Just as well. Those pages could be slightly sticky. Catnip for bugs.