The holiday replacement chemist offered  me an 'abonnement'  today and said she'd find me a little corner to call my own behind the counter.

It has to be said that I must be her best customer.

Last Friday it was prescriptions for the Whale but the three monthly injection of Zoladex had to be ordered specially and picked up on Monday morning - when I also took in my repeat slip for Rhinocort (nasal spray).

On Monday afternoon Bear went to see the doctor to get his medication so off I went again.

Today Jay had his verucca injection and the dermatologist gave him a prescription for antiseptic solutions, antibiotics and painkillers.

Then CC saw her osteopath and came away with yet another 'ordonnance'.

The only problem with going to the chemist is that it takes a lifetime to get your medication.

You'd think that it would be quite a quick and straightforward procedure: hand over prescription and Carte Vitale - receive tablets etc. and exit stage left.

But no, this is France.

You go in, say 'Bonjour Messieurs/dames' to all and sundry and kiss or shake hands with anyone you actually know.

Then you wait in a disorderly queue until - eventually - it's your turn. (This can take up to half an hour).

You hand over your prescription (in duplicate) and your Carte Vitale. The chemist peruses the paper carefully, asks if you are willing to accept the generic version and disappears among the drawers and cupboards.

She eventually returns with the boxes and settles down to a long session on the computer. Each box has to have its bar code read and then it is removed and carefully stuck on another piece of paper. For some reason she has to spend ages typing codes - or whatever - into the machine and then, at last, it goes into an apoplexy of grinding noises before spitting out a copy of your prescription with printing on the back.

If you have the misfortune to be served by a 'nonqualified' pharmacist you have to wait until one becomes free before you are given the booty.

Heaven help you if you admit that there is a medicine with which you are unfamiliar. This results in a detailed explanation reinforced with shorthand notes on the box itself.

Even if there isn't a queue you can never count on escaping from the shop for at least a quarter of an hour and it can take twenty five minutes.

Maybe I should have a spare bed there.