That was not much fun, physically. 40 minutes in south London rush-hour traffic, over seemingly every pothole and speedbump in Lambeth, then two hours being "assessed" by a nice enough bloke - but whose medical skills were obviously either theoretical or well-atrophied - while sitting on a chair that was about as conducive to someone with lower back problems sitting comfortably, as a sack full of rocks. He "tested" my memory by asking me to recall three items he showed me, and had me name (doing it properly, like at the memory clinic I attended, takes half a dozen different tests, each one including about 50 "questions"/puzzles). He then did manual resistance tests on my muscles, but did them in a "meh" sort of manner. A 30 minute journey home, over most of the same bumps and potholes, followed.
The saving grace of it all was Greebo, who didn't let him get away with anything, even when I was flagging.
Oh yeah, latest euphemism for an Atos assessor is "disability analyst".
He flinched and dissembled when Greebo asked his actual medical qualification/field right at the end of the assessment.
So, supposedly I'll hear in "4 to 8 weeks" whether I get spit-roasted or not.