BarryHutchison

This morning I was forced to call the doctor, to try to arrange appointments for my two children, who are both sick. When I finally got through I was told that the doc would see them – provided we could get to the surgery within the next 30 minutes. If not, it would be later in the week before they could be seen.

As child number one was still fast asleep in bed at this point, and child number two had just begun rubbing Weetabix all over her face (she’s only seven months, so don’t judge her too harshly), I knew this thirty-minute deadline was going to be tight.

Us adults of the household flew into action, waking, feeding, cleaning and dressing the kids, before slinging on the first clothes we found for ourselves, and dashing out the door. We made it to the doctor with moments to spare, and I’m delighted to report that neither child has anything likely to cause them to implode, explode, turn green, or spontaneously combust.

However, one of them did need antibiotics, so after dropping the family at home, I headed off to the chemist to pick them up.

As I waited in the chemist for the prescription to be put together, a horrible realisation struck me. I’d forgotten to put money in the parking meter, leaving me open to the possibility of a stonking great fine from the council.

Abandoning the antibiotics for the moment, I legged it out of the chemist and sprinted back to the car park. Being a bit of a trek away, and with me being painfully unfit, I was sweating profusely when I made it to the ticket machine, and gasping like an asthmatic Darth Vader.

Fortunately, I hadn’t been given a parking fine in the time I’d been away, so I raced over to the ticket machine and began putting in money. As I did so, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a nearby window. I looked a terrifying sight, with my uncombed hair standing on end and a week’s worth of beard growth on my chin. What’s worse, I appeared to have swapped clothes with a scarecrow. The jumper I was wearing was so big it almost hung around my knees. The back of one of my trouser legs was tucked into a sock. A film of sweat was across my face. Appearance-wise, it was undoubtedly a low point of an already desperately low 32 years.

And then it happened. The thing I should have been expecting. The moment fate kicked me squarely in the nuts.

I turned to find a man standing behind me. He gave me a friendly nod, before announcing, “My daughter’s your biggest fan.”

I stopped. My mouth went dry. Somewhere, far off in the distance, a dog barked.

“Is she?’ was the best I could offer, and as I stood there looking like a mascot for a homeless charity, the man explained that his daughter had met me during one of my school visits, and was a big fan of INVISIBLE FIENDS. She’d spotted me as they’d pulled into the car park, and pointed me out to her dad.

So, over I went to the car to say hello, and discovered that the daughter in question was Paige, the girl mentioned in this post. She was the first person ever to ask me to sign a copy of the book for her, and I was really pleased to see her re-reading a well thumbed copy in the car!

I’m actually really glad the whole chance encounter happened. I only wish I didn’t look quite so awful at the time. I can only offer my apologies to Paige and her family for my strange, borderline terrifying appearance. I hope you all recover from the experience soon, and I will try to look more presentable in future.