Footware

In the event it turned out not to be broken but merely heavily bruised. It came as something of a relief, but the pain was awful and equal to anything previously experienced. The Doctors had given their opinion and there it was – Strap it up, rest it as much as possible; but mostly - bad luck, look where you are going in future.

I look back and wonder at the silliness of it. I can see it happening and thinking – there, it was bound to happen. My excuse is I wanted to get out there. I wanted to experience some of that ‘wilderness’ that is supposed to occupy this planet. The forest looked inviting and it beckoned. So we went in.

Eduard Besson was born with the spirit of the mountains in his blood. His Father had climbed and conquered them and Eduard followed. His record of climbs growing with his years. When his brother died on a climb he lost the taste for the perilous predicaments he put himself in and he moved away from his home town and settled in the forests that surround Basle. From there he could take a short trip in the car and gaze upon the awesome peaks at his leisure and take comfort from the knowledge that they endured. It was habitual and almost ritual with him to take a walk in the forest at some point during the day. It didn’t matter what time particularly, just as long as he got at least an hour in.

He set off at lunchtime, taking a sizeable hunk of bread and a thick slice of cheese with him. By 3pm he had covered a good few kilometres and when he spotted a fallen tree he stopped and, sitting astride it, he had a late lunch. Languishing in the warm sun that filtered through the gap in the tree canopy where the tree had fallen. The sun and food and the delicious quietness of the forest turned languid into an art-form and he dozed as the forest life went on all around him.

There is something about an Old Forest. It has a presence, a sense of wonder that is apparent when the canopy closes overhead as you enter. Once embraced in the arms of the woodland it becomes incumbent to let the fears go. All those Issues or Worries we carry with us; dissipate as we adapt to the chronology of an Endless Forest. We learn to whisper and still manage to hear above the cacophony of sound that the woodland reveals in return for our impudence in entering. Birds call out a warning that humans are abroad. Deer prick up their ears and follow the heavy-footed humanity by sound as the alien species tramp through. Insects and bugs feel the ground tremble as we pass.

The airport was a relative ‘quiet haven’ after Heathrow, where we had embarked. The flight itself had been relaxed and short and within five hours from setting out from home, we had been safely ensconced in the flat and itching to get out to get a grip on the local surroundings; try to get a handle on the geography on the land; Switzerland.

We saw the forest approaching as we walked across the allotment area that is in use by the local tenants and farmers of the district. We had slipped our way through the labyrinth of paths and byways (each clearly marked with signposts and distances) with some degree of authority. We knew the name of the place we had come from so it would be easy to follow the signs pointing the way back. Meanwhile, the sun made itself known by filtering through the lush growth of summer and lit our way as countless footpaths opened their way for us.

Yes, I know…, we should have waited. We should have changed into more appropriate attire.. We should have stocked up on glucose tablets and a supply of water and a decent pair of walking boots and all those things that make a trip out - a Journey. Nevertheless, excited, we embarked outward… we were on a holiday, a trip out from base camp was essential to get a perspective on the local topography. WE didn’t even know of the forest until it presented itself, As we crested a sloping hill we looked down upon the vast woodland that smothered the valleys below. In the far distance we could see mountains rising, a grey presence against a green foreground. The nearest thing available to shelter from the warm sun was the forest and we ventured within. The climate changed as we walked and we felt the cooler air that gathered in the valley surround us as we descended in the fringes of the forest.

Just a short way in the path forked; WE turned to the right. At the next fork we turned left. Very soon we encountered a crossroads that presented a dilemma, so we took a chance and turned toward the direction of the silence… It was to the right I think… The birds sang all around us and we paused to listen and I adjusted the strap on my shoes. We kept the pace slow, the path was by no means an obstacle course but with the wrong shoes it became close. An hour later we paused to simply soak in the sound of a forest at work and that simple act caused the fall as my heel caught and over went my ankle resulting in the worst pain I have ever known. I screamed out and my continued cursing and ineffectual efforts to get up only served to scare the whole woodland area with a flurry of activity as animals ran and bird took flight. I think I was crying in pain.

Eduard came to from his doze, aware that not all he could hear was wildlife. His suspicion was confirmed almost instantly when he heard human voices. In his head the voices represented a violation of what he had come to think of as His forest; in reality he recognised the sound of someone in pain. He became fully awake and tried to locate the sound and succeeded when another cry came from his left just down the path. He set off to find the source of the anguished sound.

His German was of course excellent. My English is Very good. but the reverse could not be said. Whilst I can count to ten in German and say hello, goodbye and a smattering of swear words; My conversational skills are, sadly, lacking. Eduard, I think would agree.

He carried me. After a quick inspection of my ankle he hoisted me to my feet and almost slung me over his shoulder. I sort of protested but he could NOT understand me at all. I thought that maybe he thought his luck was in and he was carrying me off to his lair… Z hurried along behind. Trying to keep up with fast pace he set and trying to keep her feet to prevent another incident with a wayward ankle.

There was a firm purpose in his step and in short time we came out of the forest and past a few houses that I looked at with some longing thinking of a simple bathing of my ankle in cool water. He ignored the suggestions I made and continued with purpose until we came to his car, a rather battered Mercedes, parked at the end of a field of sunflowers, each of which seemed to watch as he dropped me into the passenger seat and waited with some patience for Z to arrive before starting the car and heading off to the nearest Hospital.

The Doctors tutted and shook their collective heads at the stupidity of an Englander in the forest wearing stupid shoes for such an excursion. Or, that is what I surmised from the way the efficient, but rather ‘cold’ way my treatment was conducted. Nevertheless, I have no complaints about the outcome. No bones broken and with it strapped up well I was able to hobble. I could expect some discomfort for a while but the painkillers would help there. All I need do is keep as active as possible and NOT let the foot atrophy through neglect. It was a lesson in humility – You went to far, now start again. And, wear suitable clothing!

The rest of the holiday was spent without incident. Visits to Basle and Lucerne and the walks around the two places revealed a delight of food and drink and friendly people who responded well to a crippled Brit in, by now, a semi-fit state and the whole served to make up for a rather splendid aside from the everyday life ‘back home’.

On the day before we were due to fly home we decided that we just had to take another walk across the fields to the forest. Despite the injury, which by now was a shadow of its former self and was fading into the mists of time, a nice walk would be good and allow us to catch up with the magic that the forest had presented. I donned a pair of trainers designed for the arduous task of walking (it said so on the box, and should anyone doubt the Brand with the swoosh?).

We spent the day well. We had taken our lunch with us. We even had a good supply of water. We walked for miles. And the return journey proved even better as we trusted the signposts and veered some way off course. We came upon deer. We stopped and attracted woodpeckers by tapping the trunk of a tree with a stone. The deer seemed to keep us company as we slowly made our way back through the vast expanse of woodland. They knew that we posed no threat and continued their browsing without regard to us. The woodpeckers got agitated by spurious signals (sent by us) and gathered around argueing among themselves… The sun shone though a filtered layer of leaves and all was well with the world.

All days end and as we left the forest and wearily trudged our way back for the last night in Switzerland, the fields near to the flat gave way to the houses and, as evening closed, we gave thanks for the sight of electric lights.. It would mean a warm bath and clean sheets on a comfortable bed.

We waited at the pedestrian crossing for some time. In Switzerland and Germany it is considered BAD form to cross against a red light even if no traffic was about. So we waited. Just before the lights changed and the green Go light came on, a silver, battered Mercedes that looked familiar somehow, came up the road. We waited for its passing but instead the driver drew to halt beside us. We tutted at the silliness of this and proceeded to walk round. The window came down and a voice called out in broken-English. The voice was known to me and carried with it a message.

After delivering the words the driver pulled away. Though not before recognition arrived, and NOT, sad to say; before the window was closed and the car drew away leaving me unable to respond and utter thanks to a Good Samaritan.

Eduard waved out of the window and vanished around the bend. Each syllable was carefully enunciated and hung in the evening air; The words still echo in the mind. "Those are Sensible shoes!”

Hands of Time

We all have those moments when the past reaches out and touches us. Sometimes the memory is painful and we hastily brush it aside. Other times we smile and put our head to one side whilst we pause to recall. On occasion the past stands in front of us and will not be ignored. At such moments we are suddenly aware of the fact that TIME passes and we look up to see how the years have fared..

<<>>

That the woman was pregnant was NOT in doubt. Her belly was in danger of busting open right there in the ER room of A&E as the kicks and movements of the baby confined within displayed a yearning desire to rid itself of the barrier that held back the life that was yet to be.

The Mother-to-be grunted in pain from another source. She had been a sufferer of rheumatism for some years and had not really expected that one day this, ‘Miracle that was Life’, would be something she could experience. But her delight was self-evident and she stroked her belly trying to soothe the rage within. Her hands had become at the age of thirty two, something that she now referred to as claws but she used them to great effect as she talked to the baby and continued to stroke her swelling.

Sister explained to me that we needed to get her over to the Labour Ward where she could have her baby in the proper surroundings of a specialist unit. She had been admitted because of an almost severed toe. Alice, the Mum-to-be, had dropped a pair of kitchen scales through her hands and they had landed on her toe which though broken, was now the least of her worries. The loss of blood perhaps or the trauma of the excitement had brought on the immanent arrival of baby who, despite the eye-catching evidence of the swollen belly was not in fact due for three weeks!

Whilst we waited for her notes to be written up I stood and chatted with Alice. She held onto my hand and I tried in my way to reassure her. Truth to tell though, she was calmer than me, if perhaps a little excited that she was going to have her baby at last. We got on well, she told me all about herself and I responded in kind by telling her about me. We swapped tales of gardening and cooking and shared in the moment by being friends in what is after all a rather hostile place – A Hospital.

To get to the Labour Ward from A&E was quite a long trek. Corridors, lift up three floors, more corridors, a link-bridge to the Maternity Unit, another corridor, a lift down one floor and the final corridor to the Labour Ward itself… The warm coloured paintings on the wall, the soft music that played in the lobby area, the big-hearted laugh of the Ward Sister gave an immediate feeling of calmness as we wheeled Alice into room one. Light and airy with minimal furnishing it could have been cold and clinical but instead held an almost Zen approach and everyone breathed easier for being there. Sister Rose, who hailed from the West Indies had been in charge of the ward for more years than anyone cared to remember, she WAS the Labour Ward. All others bowed to her knowledge and common-sense approach to the delivery room.

Alice asked if I would stay. Her husband was a salesman and was somewhere in Leeds at the moment, though following a phone call he was more than likely to be halfway down the motorway by now; And she would appreciate the company and if I could hold her hand she would like that very much…

Despite her best intentions Alice did not have a good time. She screamed a lot during the delivery and despite the pain she had in here hands she crushed my fingers and swore a great deal. Sister Rose ignored it all and simply told her that all was well and told her when to push and when to relax and Alice tried hard to follow orders. She still uttered the occasional expletive though! And then all of a sudden there she was – Eve arrived. Her screams and protests far louder than her mothers. The wet hair on her head lay quite thick across her scalp and her wrinkled face creased even more as she bellowed her welcome to the world. Her pudgy little fingers groped as the midwife passed her to Alice who beheld the squawking bundle with delight and tears and pressed the tiny body to her bosom. The mouth that yelled soon became the mouth that suckled and silence, save for the heavy breathing from Alice soon overtook the room and the midwives left her to settle for a while.

Alice looked at me at smiled a weary smile. “I did it”, she said. “Thanks for staying.”

I sat with her for another hour. I held the baby in my arms while the midwives did their bit with Alice by washing her and changing her blood-soaked gown. All to soon it was time to leave because the bleep gave a signal that I was required elsewhere. We exchanged a hug and a kiss and said goodbye and I went about my job. I wondered how to write up the occasion in the Report book.

<<<>>>

I was on my way to the Canteen to grab a bite to eat. The day so far had been busy and I thought that if I grabbed a sandwich or, if they had any left, a baguette I could take it back and eat whilst I finished off one of the reports requested.

Outside the Pharmacy a whole host of people waited for prescriptions to be made up and I had to negotiate my way through the throng. My way was barred by an attractive, twenty-something, year old woman who stood foursquare in front of me. “Hello”, she said.

I looked and saw a complete stranger. Nevertheless, I said a rather brusque ‘hello’ in return and tried to step round her. She sidestepped and was still in my way. “You don’t know me do you?”, she asked rather unnecessarily. I had to admit that she was correct in her assumption. But then she asked me another question. A question that threw me a bit and I paid attention.

I listened to her question and it seemed harmless enough and truth to tell, I could use the event to take my mind off work. So I followed her as she led me across reception to meet her Mother as per the request.

The figure in the wheelchair had her head bowed so I could not see her features. But I could see that she was disabled by her twisted hands and feet. The younger woman spoke again. “Mum, I think I found her.”

‘Mother slowly twisted her head to one side and lifted her face to look at me and she smiled . “Hello Amanda.”

I tried to be calm and courteous but the puzzled look on my face gave me away and the woman laughed a delightfully musical laugh. “I suspect that you do not remember me. But I remember you.” Then she burst into song, the first line from Sgt. Pepper by the Beatles. “It was twenty years ago today.” And she laughed again. “You helped me make the world a better place. You stayed with me while I gave birth to the beautiful child beside you.” She indicated her daughter.

She went on at length about what a delight her daughter was to her and she had grown up into a wonderful woman and was good to her Mother. The girl blushed and muttered warm words of admonishment to her mother, she was obviously used it. I learned that Eve Cared for her Mother in almost every way because of the disabling disease that had reached far into her body and limbs. But the warm smile was always present, she smiled fondly when she told me of the passing of her husband and how the two of them had attended the funeral, Eve supporting her Mother as by now she walked unsteadily.

Mother went on, “I was a bit wrong singing that song you know. It was Twenty Two years ago actually. Twenty Two years ago, you and I shared a moment. Remember?”

And the years rolled away and I rubbed my hand at the memory of her vice-like grip.

HEY!

“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?