The day your
medication strides toward you à la the broomsticks in The Sorcerer’s
Apprentice is the day you should change your prescription.
I’m all for
convenience, but I draw the line at tablets that march into my mouth. Call me
old-fashioned, but I like my pills inanimate. Perhaps it’s because I’m
vegetarian and don't like swallowing anything that once had a
personality; admittedly, I eat fish but they don’t count. On that basis, I could technically also devour the mid-Nineties pop duo Lighthouse Family without guilt.
Maybe I’m jumping
to conclusions, and they’ve just given the tablets little hands and feet to
illustrate their delivery service. If that’s how they get to you though, I’d
sooner pick them up myself; it’s twenty minutes walk from the chemist to my flat and that's with the gait of a normal sized adult. God knows how long it would take
something as small as a tablet to reach me on foot, not to mention the obvious hygiene implications.