Clear blue sky, occasional puff of cloud. Crows caw in the trees. Hot sun, cold wind in shade. River sparkles as tide seeps in, covering seaweed coated sand. Up-river beached boats begin to float.
Walkers with coloured sweaters tied around waists stride by, leaning on poles and sticks. Families saunter with romping dogs towards the pub at head of the river. Chatter. Conversation. Laughter. Shouts.
Loud music blares from a van. Plastic kayaks hit the ground with a crack. Dragged across the pebbles to the water, launched with a splash. Rowed across the river sliding sideways with the tide. Snatches of instruction float back.
Stranded boats on quay. Paint. Wood. Tools. Green tangled fishing nets wrapped round lobster pots and intertwined with orange polypropylene rope. Thick hemp spliced round large galvanised eyes. Smells of the sea. Fishy paint suntan lotion intertwined with coffee.
Down-river boats point into incoming tide. Small dinghies ferry expectant crew. Assorted vessels mill around the entrance to the harbour. In and out.
Tuesday 17 July 2012
Wednesday 9 May 2012
Visiting Time
My mum was 78 years old when diagnosed with a cancerous lump attached to her kidney. For the three days she was in hospital for diagnosis no visitors were allowed because of the norovirus strain of gastroenteritis running rife through staff and patients.
One month later she was back in the same hospital, which was still under 'lockdown', for surgery to remove the kidney and tumour. My dad and two sisters were allowed as far as a room where they could unpack her bag with a nurse hovering, waiting to usher them out. They left mum sitting in a chair looking slightly bewildered.
One of my brothers and a sister live within a few miles of the hospital. My other sister had come over from Canada, planning to stay for a few months to get mum back on her feet. My older younger brother was at home on the Isles of Scilly, and I had travelled down from Wales a couple of weeks previously. Back on the mainland I was staying with a friend and could see the hospital from the rooftop cafe of the Sainsburys round the corner. This was also the only place I could get some sort of phone signal!
The operation went well and we could phone the hospital as there was an extension to mum's bed. She was flying high for a couple of days as pain meds were being pumped into her. My sister from Canada and I were getting fed up at not being allowed to see her so when the bus to the hospital arrived we looked at each other, grinned and got on. We arrived at the entrance to the oncology block to be greeted by a portly woman wearing a high-vis vest. She approached us and asked whether we had an appointment. My sister looked slightly lost and in her Canadian accent said, "Umm I'm not sure." "Oh that's alright dear," came the reply, "Just go and see the receptionist." We walked towards the desk where another woman asked whether she could help. My sister put on her conspiratorial look and asked if she could 'use the bearthroom.' We were duly pointed to the facilities around the corner. We were in!
The lifts were disgustingly dirty and dingy but we gritted our teeth, rode up two floors, got out and strode purposefully to the ward entrance. There we used alcohol rub to disinfect our hands, then started down the ward.
"What now?" I whispered.
"Haven't got a clue!" came the reassuring reply. "I'll have to wing it." Great! As we walked towards the nurses' station a young man looked up and asked us if the ban had been lifted! We declined to answer on the grounds that it might incriminate us, so we just smiled and said we had come to see our mother, who had had a serious operation. He called the charge nurse over, and my sister whispered that she was going to play her trump card, which was wearing a bit thin!
She duly explained to this nice lady that she had flown all the way from Canada to see her mother who had had this serious operation; the fact that she had been in the UK for nearly a week was one she conveniently forgot to mention. Mum was in the observation bay, right opposite the nurses' station and as the nurse led us over she asked whether we had any symptoms of d and v - as if we'd have been wandering around anywhere apart from a bathroom!
Mum was lying with her eyes closed and the look on her face when she saw us was worth it - I had to say that it was really me and not a figment of her imagination! We didn't stay long but it was enough to cheer us all up. My sister and I were out of there like a dose of salts and into the lift, expecting the hand of security on our shoulders at any time. The receptionist was conveniently missing and the high-vis lady was talking to someone else so we sauntered out. Once outside we ran down the grass bank to the bus stop laughing hysterically and exchanging high fives! Well, it's not every day one breaks into a hospital.
One month later she was back in the same hospital, which was still under 'lockdown', for surgery to remove the kidney and tumour. My dad and two sisters were allowed as far as a room where they could unpack her bag with a nurse hovering, waiting to usher them out. They left mum sitting in a chair looking slightly bewildered.
One of my brothers and a sister live within a few miles of the hospital. My other sister had come over from Canada, planning to stay for a few months to get mum back on her feet. My older younger brother was at home on the Isles of Scilly, and I had travelled down from Wales a couple of weeks previously. Back on the mainland I was staying with a friend and could see the hospital from the rooftop cafe of the Sainsburys round the corner. This was also the only place I could get some sort of phone signal!
The operation went well and we could phone the hospital as there was an extension to mum's bed. She was flying high for a couple of days as pain meds were being pumped into her. My sister from Canada and I were getting fed up at not being allowed to see her so when the bus to the hospital arrived we looked at each other, grinned and got on. We arrived at the entrance to the oncology block to be greeted by a portly woman wearing a high-vis vest. She approached us and asked whether we had an appointment. My sister looked slightly lost and in her Canadian accent said, "Umm I'm not sure." "Oh that's alright dear," came the reply, "Just go and see the receptionist." We walked towards the desk where another woman asked whether she could help. My sister put on her conspiratorial look and asked if she could 'use the bearthroom.' We were duly pointed to the facilities around the corner. We were in!
The lifts were disgustingly dirty and dingy but we gritted our teeth, rode up two floors, got out and strode purposefully to the ward entrance. There we used alcohol rub to disinfect our hands, then started down the ward.
"What now?" I whispered.
"Haven't got a clue!" came the reassuring reply. "I'll have to wing it." Great! As we walked towards the nurses' station a young man looked up and asked us if the ban had been lifted! We declined to answer on the grounds that it might incriminate us, so we just smiled and said we had come to see our mother, who had had a serious operation. He called the charge nurse over, and my sister whispered that she was going to play her trump card, which was wearing a bit thin!
She duly explained to this nice lady that she had flown all the way from Canada to see her mother who had had this serious operation; the fact that she had been in the UK for nearly a week was one she conveniently forgot to mention. Mum was in the observation bay, right opposite the nurses' station and as the nurse led us over she asked whether we had any symptoms of d and v - as if we'd have been wandering around anywhere apart from a bathroom!
Mum was lying with her eyes closed and the look on her face when she saw us was worth it - I had to say that it was really me and not a figment of her imagination! We didn't stay long but it was enough to cheer us all up. My sister and I were out of there like a dose of salts and into the lift, expecting the hand of security on our shoulders at any time. The receptionist was conveniently missing and the high-vis lady was talking to someone else so we sauntered out. Once outside we ran down the grass bank to the bus stop laughing hysterically and exchanging high fives! Well, it's not every day one breaks into a hospital.
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