The flu season is

upon us and I have just had my annual vaccination. 

This year I was finally at the age where I can have my shot at the local pharmacy.  I made an appointment, filled out the necessary documentation and, Medicare card in my paw, I went at the appointed time. I was jabbed - not quite painlessly - and told to sit and wait ten minutes before prowling off.

It was at that point I rebelled. I do not care to sit in the shop itself. This is where they would like me to sit, there or on the seats immediately outside.

I looked at the nurse who had given me the jab. The nurse looked at me. No, I was not going to be foolish enough to put my paws on the pedals and ride off into the start of the school hour traffic.  

"I will go and get myself a drink," I told her. I told her where I was going. She agreed.

I know the people who run the little "hole in the wall" cafe in the shopping centre. They know me by name. It is not because I spend much money there. I don't. They know I do not but we exchange other things. They are Syrian. I help with their English because they know they can always ask me for help with that. They will ask after Middle Cat if they have not seen her. She has treated both parents on occasion. 

So, I prowled the twenty or so metres to the cafe and, making sure I had the cash, I did the rare thing and bought hot chocolate. It was good hot chocolate because it was actually hot, not lukewarm. I made sure I paid cash because A... will try and "pay" me for the English lessons if I use my debit card. He brought it over with a little bow and then turned to someone else he knows by sight, "Cat is my friend. Do you know her?"  I felt like royalty.

I took my time over my hot chocolate. I watched them at work. By mid-afternoon things are quietening down for them. A... was clearing packing to the big recycle bin outside. P... was scrubbing the area she likes to keep so clean. Someone came up wanting coffee and something to eat. I know him. He is a doctor and he had been doing a clinic with some refugees. She shooed them into a nearby seat and, late though it was, she made him a proper cafe meal. "If I do not, you will not eat properly." She told him. 

I have no idea how these people make a living. It would be very little but they are refugees who recently became citizens themselves and they are intent on making the most of their new country. A... came back from the recycle bin and cleared the tables around me. I was talking to someone I know and making arrangements to do something. The doctor ate his meal, gave me a tired smile and asked if I would arrange for someone to get a library card. Then he was gone. I took my own mug back to P... because it had all gone quiet.

Yes, ten minutes had come and gone but it was a good time. A... and P... know their regular customers. They will go out of their way for them. It is a tiny place and people wonder how they manage to keep it going. I suspect I know. It is something we can all learn.