We entered the pro-shop of the quite posh golf club in a slightly timid manner. This is because I always feel a little bit out of place in posh places. I always think I am about to get caught out and asked to leave. Luckily, I am now well-skilled in feigning poshness, so I was only slightly uncomfortable going to the pro-shop desk to check-in for our fast approaching tee-time.

The bored looking young lady behind the desk was sat on a high chair and on the phone. Her mobile phone. She examined her nails as the conversation continued.

“Yeah, so I don’t have my inhaler you see, and I’m a bit, like, wheezy and that.”

I looked at her and she made that hand gesture that means ‘just one second’. The gesture you generally do not make to paying customers.

“So I was wondering if it might be an asthma attack?” she continued, whilst looking closely at one slightly damaged cuticle.

“No.” she responded, to a question from the other side of the conversation.

“No.”

“Not really”

“I guess not.”

Now, I do not have much experience with Asthma attacks, in fact the last one I witnessed was on a cross country run at school, and I used it as an excuse not to complete the run.  What I do remember is a sense of urgency from the kid having the attack.  It was obvious he was in trouble as his pleading look and inability to speak led to mass celebrations on my part for a legitimate excuse not to finish the run.  The state of his nails was not a priority.

I had thought this girl must be an asthmatic, due to her mention of an inhaler, but surely all asthmatics know what an asthma attack feels like? Isn’t a history of such attacks what technically defines you an asthmatic?

She wasn’t there when we finished our round, so maybe it was one of those slow burning attacks.

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