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We missed the Irish summer this year. While away in foreign parts in June, the female half of our double act decided to trip head over arse and break a hip. Despite entreaties by the VHI to fly us back to Ireland to mend, we decided to brave it out and recuperate in situ, with a small glass of white in the hand.
When eventually we made it back, after months of enforced physiotherapy and checks and hiccups, in early autumn, I experienced a small group of iniquities that, it seems, can only happen in Ireland. It explains why we are all so grumpy, all of the time – or is that just me?
While in France, observing their health system as a hospital visitor, I decided to join in and cough up €49 and trot along to see the local cardiologist.
Prescription
After a 20 minute-examination using many machines and a lot of stilted French and sign language (from me, he spoke quite good French), he changed my death-defying pills to a whole new bunch of death-defying pills. And a lot better they are too.
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So first thing when we were back to Ireland we went and had our flu jabs, as we are old and needy, and I saw my local doctor to tell her all that went on in the summer and to get a new Irish prescription.
I have three pills to take. Two of which, apparently, aren’t really available in Ireland – despite one of them being made in Ringaskiddy. One has, since I last asked, become available in generic form and, it turns out, is also made in Ringaskiddy. So that is one small step for man’s medications.
The second one, the chemist said, he could get in, and it would be costly, and it would take a couple of weeks.
“But it’s a generic in France and only costs €11 a month. Couldn’t you get some from France?”
“Not allowed”, he said.
“By whom?” said I.
“The Government, I guess,” said he.
Free movement of goods within the European market, how are you?
A few days later we were wandering around our local superduperstore buying vital vittles and essential essences.
“That coffee”, I said to the wifeperson, “that you made me buy a box of to bring back from France, they have it here, the very same.”
“They do indeed, ” she said, “and look at the price.”
I looked. €5.45. FIVE FORTY FIVE!
“It’s only €2.35 in France”.
“Quite”, said she.
Three extra euro to get a small packet of coffee from Cherbourg to Naas. Does each packet come on its own individual container ship?
Free movement of goods within the European market, how are you?
Back home, safely in my studio, away from the burly and the hurly of crass medicinal and commercial life, I decided to stock up on brushes for winter.
A bit like a bear but I don’t sleep quite as much. Almost, but not quite.
In France, using the services of amazon.fr, I had been whiling away the summer months, when not nursing or working, testing out various Japanese brush pens. They are like fountain pens but with a brush on the end instead of a nib. They are what I use to draw the cartoons. The Japanese use them to write with. I sometimes use just regular brushes and bottles of ink but that usually leads to industrial spillage and that is not good. The brush pens are cleaner. The ones I had been trying out from various Japanese manufacturers all cost between €3 and €12 and could be bought individually, postage free.
I went on to Amazon, found the ones I preferred and ordered. As it happens it was a cheaper one, a €3 job, I was after. Thank you for your order, that will be €3 please, plus €22 postage. Hang on. TWENTY TWO EURO POSTAGE. It is free in France, it is free to the UK so how come it costs 22 effin’ euro to get to Ireland?
Free movement of goods? Ah, you get the idea.
Maybe if the Government gave us an effective Minister to Stop Us Being Ripped Off Royally (republicanally) we might not be all looking for pay rises. Just a thought.