If you’re easily offended, please ignore this one…

So, it’s that time of year again. Actually, it was that time of year back in December.

Here in Portugal, my GP insists that I see her twice a year, which is impressive, since I only ever saw a doctor back in the UK when I had reason to.

My appointment was set for the 15th December, which obviously isn’t a great time of year to have your blood pressure and weight checked to see how healthy you are. With Christmas just around the corner, I decided to forego the pleasure. Yes, being well into the festive build-up, I asked if I could change my appointment to the end of January, which would give me time to rid myself of the band of fat that I was likely to accrue.

I sent an email and the next day was given a replacement date – the 30th January. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, either I’m very lucky or other people are very unlucky. I’ve found the Portuguese Customer Services sector to be rather efficient.

Anyway, I digress.

Along with my appointments, my GP insists that annually, I have the full gamut of tests – blood and Urine – and also a poo test biennially. Fortunately, this year, I didn’t need to take the poo test. It’s not very pleasant, to be honest.

Anyway, with my new appointment being the 30th January, I decided that the 20th would be a good time for my tests, so at 8:00am I was walking through the analysis clinic’s door as the analysis clinic opened. Two minutes later, I was back out again. I’d bloody forgotten that I wasn’t allowed to eat for eight hours beforehand. Bollocks.

So, at 8:00am on the 21st January, I walked through the door to the analysis clinic once more. This time everything was in order. The receptionist entered the details of what was required and the phlebotomist took my blood. I was then told that I would need to give a sample of urine too:

‘You must do pee pee as well…’

Rather strange terminology, but I understood what she wanted, and… bloody hell, I’d forgotten that as well! I’d relieved myself just before leaving the house that morning, so there was no way I was going to be able to fill the pot I’d just been given.

As a result, I told the lady that I would take the pot home, drink lots of water and bring it back that same morning.

I then left and did exactly as promised: I went home and drank lots of water.

At 9:45am, I felt a tingle and decided that now was the time, so I took the pot to the toilet, unzipped my fly, wiped the old boy with the wet wipe thing that the lady had given me, and I began to urinate. I was to urinate into the toilet initially, so I’d been told, and then stop, so that’s what I did – not easy when you’re in mid-flow, I can tell you – and then fill the pot.

So, I then picked up the pot and was about to go for it, but before I could let out a sigh and relieve myself… bloody hell, everything went dark!

Nooooo! The lights had gone out! It was a bloody power cut!

So, there I was in the downstairs toilet (which has no windows), with my flies open, my old boy in one hand and a small pot in the other, unable to see anything in front of me. It was pitch black.

That meant that I had a bit of a dilemma on my hands – what to do?

I’d been halfway through the operation so really didn’t want to stop (in fact was busting to carry on), but I’d had no choice. If I’d continued, there could well have been a bit of misjudgement and subsequently a bit of overflow – and I certainly didn’t want that.

So, there I was, busting big time, more than ready to relieve myself and wondering what the hell to do next.

Bollocks!

I waited there in the dark, praying for the power to return. Thirty seconds later, nothing. I made a decision. I waddled out of the toilet, still with the old boy in one hand and the pot in the other and headed for the front door. Since the lounge shutters were still closed, the only form of light was the small square window set in the front door. The light wasn’t great since it was grey, wet and windy outside, but it was better than nothing. At least I could vaguely see what I was doing.

I continued the process, amazingly managing not to spill a drop, before turning my tap off once more. Just as I did so, sod’s law, the lights flickered back on and I waddled my way back to the toilet to finish what I’d started.

Phew, somehow, I’d completed the task, but what a palaver.

I sorted myself out and took the pot back to the analysis clinic, so job done.

Next time, hopefully I’ll have light…