You may remember I was dreading going to get some official documentation thing done.

Well, today was the day.

The office opened at 8.30. Being Italy, I knew my best chance to spend as little time as possible, the first visit, was to get there about 8 a.m.

I failed. It wasn’t entirely my fault. Last night we were at some friends for dinner and F did his back in during the day so, when we got home about 12.30, I had to take the dogs out.

I set the alarm for 7 a.m., knowing I would have to take the dogs out. An hour would be enough, wouldn’t it? Even as I was setting the alarm at about 1 a.m. I knew that it wouldn’t be. F said that he would get up with me as he wanted to go and have his injection at 8 as he was going to Greece for the week.

The alarm went off. It was so nice being in bed that I set it to snooze for 5 minutes. Of course, as it was only an hour to get my act together, even 5 minutes was a no-no – and I knew that, it was just that I really, really didn’t want to get up.

I got up when it went off again. I didn’t wash or anything but took the dogs out straight away. We got back about 20 to 8 (it had to be a shorter walk this morning). Of course, F only actually got up the moment I got back. And he made for the bathroom. So, that was that. I made coffee. Just before 8 he came out of the bathroom but I was having coffee and, much like every morning, my head takes a while to catch up with being awake. In fact, I always say that I’m at my best from about 11 a.m.

Of course, it doesn’t mean that I can stay up late. Normally, I would say, my best period finishes about 2 p.m. – after that it’s all downhill to bed!

Anyway, back to the story. I did try to rush but it was like swimming through treacle. I made it out of the house before 8.30, which I thought was quite an achievement, to be honest.

I realised, just before I left the house, that I had not taken a copy of my passport or my codice fiscale sheet (I never got the card). I went to the tobacconists under my flat and got copies.

I knew I wouldn’t have everything that was needed but I’d done my best.

I catch the bus but get off too early. I walk to the place and arrive there about 9 something. I go to the office which is on the 4th floor. I really do hate doing this thing in Italy. I dread it. I thought, on the way there about turning back but steeled myself to continue. After all, this had to be done sooner or later.

I get the lift to the 4th floor and go into the waiting room. I see the machine to get a ticket. The ticket says B52. They are currently calling out B21! Shit, I think, I really should have been here earlier.

I sit down and wait. And wait. However, by about 10, we’re nearing my number. All these people only seem to spend a few minutes in the offices. I see many of them clutching folders with documentation. All my documentation is contained in my passport which is in my pocket. My heart sinks with every second of waiting. I toy with the idea of NOT doing this. After all, I maybe don’t have the need of it any more?

But, having already arranged to be late for work to get it, I have to continue.

My number comes up – it’s about 10.15.

I go into Office number 8. The guy is sat at a desk behind a computer. I explain what I want. He asks if this is my first time. I say yes. He asks if I’m resident. I explain that no, I’m not really. He asks where I am from. I tell him.

He needs my codice fiscale. I give him the original paper. He asks if I have a payslip. As luck would have it, in my bag is the last payslip from October. I tell him I have a letter from my employers but he says a payslip is better.

I hand it over. He doesn’t look at my passport.

He types some stuff in on the computer. Whilst he’s doing that, I tell him who I have selected because she is close to my flat. He nods and agrees. He continues typing.

He finishes typing and says, in English, “OK, that’s finished.”

He can see I look shocked. I say, “Finished in what way? What happens now? And my card?”

He prints out two pieces of paper. He says that one of the pieces of paper is the proof that I am “on the system” and until I receive the card I can use this. The other piece of paper gives the time she will be available.

He is smiling. He can still see I am in shock. I explain that this sort of thing has simply NEVER happened in Italy. I explain that, normally, I expect to go two or three times. He assures me that this is all done. He asks to take a copy of the codice fiscale document. I explain I have a copy. He would also need to take a copy of my passport. I say I have one of those too! This thing, of them making copies, has never happened before in Italy – for anything! Normally you must bring your own copies. He takes a copy of my payslip.

And that was that. 15 minutes! I am still in shock. I still can’t quite believe it. This, I would probably not even expect in the UK. This is stunning. This is wonderful. Oh, were it all like this in Italy.

So, anyway, now I am officially able to obtain the free health service. I have a doctor. I can go to hospital. I can be treated – and almost all for free. Like in the UK.

So, my first taste of the Health Service here is pleasant and comes across as efficient.

I like it