“Hey! You were working last night weren’t you?” I couldn’t deny it.
“Thought so.” He said without waiting for the answer. “I remember you outside when those louts came up to A&E. My Partner is just getting some paperwork from the Sister about it.”
His tall frame fitted out the uniform well and his boots shone. His radio made noises and he turned the volume down. “I suppose you do a week on nights then?” A glance back up the corridor to check his partner had not reappeared. He went on, “We do the same shifts. A week of early a week of lattés and a week of nights. You get used to it don’t you?” The merest hint of a pause, “We have brought another one in for you, but I don’t think he will be much trouble, he is too drunk. Do you think it will be a Home win for the footie on Saturday? I reckon it will mean trouble for us if we lose!”
I couldn’t help but wonder as to why he asked questions but did not wait for answers. I put it down to his youth and obvious eagerness that everyone should know he was a Policeman. I idly supposed that his eyes hid his own uniform from view.
“I better get on. Maybe I will see you later. You never know what the night will bring do you?” He turned on his heels and marched back up the corridor.
I resumed my way to the Path Lab, the specimen in the plastic bag had a limited shelf-life. I passed through Reception and down the corridor to the lab where the Technician waited and I handed over the bag.
“Keep them coming” He said, “I need something to keep me awake. Things are slow tonight.”
It was true. Sometimes it happened that way, nights got slow. Not that I minded, There are books to read, music to be heard and right now… food to be sought. Time for a raid.
If, upon being given a set of keys that in theory open every door in a Hospital, and one does not use them; it shows a certain lack of curiosity.
Which is an odd justification for being nosey I know, but I did use them and am pleased to report that I have at some point been in every single room in the Hospital. Further, I have, in my time, used every single, outermost, remote toilet. Even the ones in the accommodation block.
A small claim, but in the context of quiet night-shifts, a big deal. I once, and this is confession time, I once sat in the leather chair behind the desk of the Hospital Director and used his big mahogany desk to roll a very large joint which I subsequently shared with Duff up on the roof. I also rolled them in the Mortuary, the Canteen, a cubicle in the Maternity Ward and many other outlandish places. Including behind the reception desk in a busy Accident & Emergency, simply to prove to myself that people just don’t see what is going on under their noses. Though in that particular case I may have had my judgement clouded by the one I had rolled and smoked earlier in the evening.
In this instance having delivered the specimen I hastened toward the kitchen. When the munchies strike food suddenly takes on an urgency. It pays to know the right people no matter where you work. I had been left instructions – a note had been put in my locker. “On the right as you go in. Plated and ready to be zapped.” To the unknowing reader this would mean little - to me, as a friend of the Chef it meant a lot!
Gary was a dear chap, he had a liking for beer and the music of Jethro Tull, and was very tolerant to those that liked to smoke. I had happened to mention one night in the pub that I liked to crumble hash into an omelette… Not being one to miss a hint he had from that day forth whenever he was on the late shift and I was on nights, whipped up an omelette and sprinkled it with a liberal dosage of the aforementioned herb. He would wrap it in Clingfilm and place it in the fridge ready for me when I started nights. Friends in the right place see…?
I liberated the plate from the padlocked cooler and headed out into the canteen carefully locking doors behind me. Already eating at a table in the corner were two Doctors and a Staff Nurse. I made use of the Microwave and took my now steaming supper/breakfast across to join them, greeting each in turn.
The discussion they were engaged in concerned the forthcoming changes within the Hospital. It was inevitable, it would mean Big changes all round. Many of the Ancillary jobs within the newly-formed Trust would be palmed off to outside Agencies.
If I was to stay, then I would find myself working for a National Unified Workforce. I did not relish the idea and so had made plans to move. I was headed for the Switchboard, a department that was to stay under Trust control. My Portering days drew to an end.
All three of my supper companions agreed that it was a shame that the changes were going to happen, and we all agreed that no good would come of it. – Hindsight shows that this conversation proved to be prophetic.
Supper finished and the devilish delight of eating a herb-laden omelette in front of unsuspecting doctors and nurses added an extra zing to the effects the drug took.
The night took on a mellow outlook and I went out into the grounds to begin a so-called Security round. It so happened that the security clock had inexplicably broken down during my last set of nights and as yet had not reappeared from the menders. I momentarily had a thought that sand in the winding mechanism had obviously gummed it up nicely and a pang of guilt flashed through my mind, tho’ that thought didn’t last long.
In the far corner of the site sat an old house that now served during the day as a crèche. It was the garden that drew me and I wandered around it for a while, delighting in the moonlit flowers that glowed and the scents that some of them gave. I sat on the Troll Bridge – a small structure that spanned the tiny pond – and smoked a cigarette and let my bare toes dip into the cold water. The goldfish nibbled at my toes. Life was good.
I replaced my shoes and continued round the back of the accommodation blocks. Various lights showed that even at this late hour some were still awake. The sound of a radio played softly as I passed the Doctors Mess and through the window I could see a doctor pacing up and down, reference book in hand that he glanced at from time to time. Exams loomed for the Juniors and throughout the previous nights I had come across three or four Doctors similarly engaged up in the Library on the top floor of the Main Block.
As I rounded the topmost corner and started to head back I heard the sound of a window opening. I stopped to look and saw that someone was not letting in air, rather, he was letting himself. The dark clothing gave hint that this was not quite right, the screwdriver he held in his hand as he eased up the glass gave another clue. I edged back around the corner and let myself in through the fire door and ran down the corridor for the nearest phone.
The Police could not have been far away because they arrived within minutes and the driver made for the window when I pointed it out to him whilst the other followed me in to the block and I opened up the door to the room.
I stood back and let the Officer enter first, I followed from a safe distance and could see that the burglar had dumped a radio/CD player and television onto the bed and was unplugging a PC… As the lights went on he jumped and then started for the window at a run, the figure of the Policeman stood there framed by the darkness outside and he drew up and put up his hands.
Handcuffed, he was marched off. I closed the window and made sure the bolts were tight then closed the door behind me. Outside I was greeted by a familiar voice.
“Hey.” Said the voice and I groaned inwardly. “You think we got nothing better to do?” He at least had a smile on his face while he uttered the words. “I expect you thought that we would be at the station drinking tea?” He laughed at this uproarious joke and went on, “As it happens we will be now. Got to lock up the baddie you sent us.” He kicked a stone into the gutter. “See you again.” He waved a hand and returned to his car.
I thought that while I was out I would do another walkabout. It was all ammunition for the report book… But the joint I smoked on the round would remain unmentioned in that battered tome.
Back in the Lodge the rest of the crew had gathered and tea was being made. A time of talk and social gathering. – Sid tried to see if he could beat his record with the Rubik Cube he usually carried about his person. Geoff squinted at a newspaper, holding it close to his face and peering through myopic eyes. Andy was prodding fingers at his new computer and sat with a puzzled frown. I pressed go on the cassette player and lay back to relish in the music of Miles Davis. Geoff frowned at first but he was a musician (trombone payer in a Brass Band) and he soon began to appreciate the feel of the music. I was slowly educating him away from the stifled world of Classical music!!
Time passed, a few jobs came and went and we began to think about a few minutes of shut-eye. Geoff took himself off to stretch out on one of the reception seats. Andy chose the warm corner over by the pharmacy and lay down with his Walkman plugged into his ears. Sid just sat by the phone and his head fell forward to indicate that sleep had taken him. I decided on another toke.
I was on the roof watching the smoke dissipate into the night and beginning to feel the full effect of a well-loaded smoke when the bleep sounded. The job, upon enquiry when I climbed back through the Library window was to see if I could help find a runaway Patient from A&E.
Sister Hils explained; He was in jeans and T-Shirt, came in as an overdose and was waiting for the team to assemble to give him a washout. He came to and legged it up the corridor, so he is inside the Hospital somewhere. The Police are already here and having a look.
I felt a bit put-out by having Police running about in MY Hospital… nevertheless I set off in pursuit. I took the lift to the top and walked down the stairs checking for unlocked doors as I went and poking my nose into the Ward areas in case anyone had seen anything. I made it down to the 1st floor and was checking the admin offices that overlook the reception when I heard the, by now, familiar voice.
“Hey!”
I could have screamed.. I hate being called Hey. I checked the door at the far end of the balcony and made my way to the Policeman who stood looking down on the Reception.
“Hi again. We must stop meeting like this” The hearty laugh grated, and he stepped forward to face me, his young features all aglow with delight. He was here on Official business and lost no time in telling me so.
“We were passing and we got the call. So we headed in to see if we could help. I expect you need it.” A reply on my part was cut short. “I know it must be tricky for you to know what is going on in such a large area, so we will do what we can to find him.”
I resisted the urge to push him over the balcony. Instead I told him I had checked down from the top floor and had mostly finished this floor.
“Oh, never mind about that. This is a drug-crazy we are after here. Never know what they will do. But he should be easy to spot. People on drugs usually are.” His experience of life so far was going to be explained to me, I just knew it…
His radio crackled and he responded in the staccato voice that radio-users use. They had found the escapee outside on the main road heading for town. I was happy to hear it, I could get back to Miles Davis or maybe put on some Steve Hillage and let the night wash over me. PC Plod had other ideas. He was ready to regale me with facts and figures about life in Uniform and the drug-crazed persons he had met.
“It is easy to tell them you know..” A rare pause, and without thinking I asked why?.
“The eyes.” He explained looking straight at me. “Eyes give it away. Especially with Cannabis. The eyes go first and glaze over. It is easy to spot them after they have had a smoke. That, and the fact that most of them get violent.”
I nodded wisely accepting all he had to offer. “I think you ought to tell the Doctors, they could use this knowledge.”
He looked long and hard at me. “You know? You are alright. You got your head screwed on.”
I wondered at the man. I could not really believe in the somewhat surreal position of a Policeman telling a ‘Stoned’ Porter how easy it was to spot a drug user and totally failing to see one in front of him. I could only think of the one phrase. An old one it is true. Not original at all, but all that came to mind is – Aren’t our British Bobbies wonderful?
