Emmy-Pooh & the Things from Uranus

Chapter Two

And so it was that Emmy-Pooh found herself sat in an uncomfortable orange-coloured plastic chair in a waiting room that smelt of dust and talcum powder.

Sat either side of Emmy were her parents, both reading old magazines - Charles a copy of Motor Car Monthly and Jemima an issue of Knitwear Weekly. They had encouraged Emmy to read too, whilst they waited, but although Emmy loved to read more than any other nine year old I know, on this particular occasion she just couldn't bring herself to turn a page.

Emmy always got nervous when she went to the doctors, but today she was especially nervous, because as far as she knew there was nothing wrong with her. And if your parents take you to the doctor's when there is nothing wrong with you, this usually means the doctor's going to stick a big needle in your arm, and to be quite frank*, Emmy wasn't overly fond of having big needles stuck in her arm. In fact I would even go as far to say she was frightened silly of having big needles stuck in her arm, and so reading the copy of Biology for Beginners that lay in her lap was really the last thing on her mind.

When you are waiting for something unpleasant to happen time has a habit of slowing down in order that you may work yourself into a nervous wreck.

For Emmy-Pooh time was going incredibly slowly.

An unnecessarily loud clock hung on the far wall, ticking unnecessarily loudly.

Her mother turned the page of 'Knitwear Weekly' making an unpleasant scraping sound as she did so.

Her father coughed making an unpleasant coughing sound as he did so.

Outside the wind blew, not making a sound itself, but causing other things to make a sound** by bouncing off them.

In the reception a phone rang incessantly***. (It remained unanswered because the receptionists preferred to gossip amongst themselves rather than deal with patients).

Then, finally, after what seemed like days, but was in fact twelve minutes, a short scruffy-looking Doctor appeared and the waiting was over. 'Ah, Mr and Mrs Higginbottom, and Mistress Amy.' He said and then stared at her as though admiring a beanstalk. 'My, how you've grown!' he stated loudly as he patted his pockets.

Emmy felt this statement was somewhat redundant. As a medical man, she would have expected Dr Gore to sound less surprised at the growth of a child. As far as she knew the vast majority of children grew, and if anyone should be aware of that fact then a Doctor is a primary candidate.

However, her nervousness prevented her from saying as much and instead she just smiled weakly at him.

'You remember Dr Gore don't you Amy?' her father asked.

Emmy just continued to smile and shook her head.

Doctor Gore leaned in close to Emmy and peered at her. 'Still, such a pretty smile' he said, blindly squinting. Then he stood back and patted his pockets again. 'Seem to have misplaced my glasses. Hmm. Oh well, sure they'll turn up. Very well people, follow me, follow me.'

Doctor Gore walked into a wall.

'Who put that wall there?' he said.

'You're glasses are on a string around your neck' Emmy blurted out, suddenly finding her voice at the prospect of being examined by a blind doctor.

'Why so they are! So they are. What an observant young lady you are.'

Doctor Gore slipped his glasses on. 'Much better. Should be safer now. Yes. Very well people, this way... Mind the wall.'

And they followed him.

*Meaning 'honest' - not that old man who lives in your street.

**An unpleasant sound

***Continually and annoyingly (and some might say, 'unpleasantly')