There I was, quite innocently (I thought) taking random snaps of the furniture.
Purpose-built hospital furniture fascinates me – it's all function and frequently Eastern Bloc-hideous, for some reason.
At the Mater it's not so bad. By far the best element of their chemo chairs is the up-down-back-front mobility via a chunky handset. Trying to get just the right angle for maximum comfort is stupidly addictive, especially when you forgot to bring a book:
As I scanned the room (there were maybe a dozen patients in all), I noticed the ubiquitous nylon curtains, for which someone was paid to design a little flourish at the bottom. I don't know why but I find that really sad.
The bloke in the background didn't look too happy either:
Then it happened.
I'd noticed the patient directly across from me was looking extravagantly bored. As I watched (I really have to bring a book) it then dawned on me that I could not work out whether it was a man or a woman.
The body language was very male, but there was black nail polish.
The body looked male but the face, more female.
I tired to take a surreptitious shot to work it out later with Mick.
I was mortified to discover when I got home that I'd been busted:
Anyway, verdict from Mick and me: female.
I concur. Female.
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