An Autumn Break. Part One: Troubles and Travels

Ma and I pretending to own a beach hut.

‘I’ve been in charge of this place for ten years now,’ says the manager of the shopping centre, staring glumly at a hand rail, ‘and I’ve never seen an accident like this before.’ Yes, it’s our first stop on a short break away from home with Ma and she’s already sliced her arm open. Her poor back means she has to hold on tight when climbing stairs and, as she grabs the bannister to haul herself up, she cries out in surprise. An insanely-designed metal joint juts out from under the rail at just the right height to slice the skin off Ma’s arm (or, possibly, to thwack a child’s cheek bone) and we have to seek the services of a first aider to clean and dress the wound. It’s not the best start to Ma’s holiday, but, hey, in week that’s seen three of our nearest and dearest hospitalized for various reasons, we’re simply relieved to have come this far.

For our whirlwind tour of East Anglia, we’ve booked to stay at Premier Inns; inexpensive, efficient and do what they say on the tin… ‘Sorry, guys,’ a frazzled-looking member of the restaurant staff tells us as we arrive for our evening meal, ‘you’re not going to like what I’m about to say.’ (Too late; Ma’s already not particularly thrilled to be addressed as a guy.) The kitchen grill is apparently billowing black smoke so most of the menu’s off. We cut our losses, find a Chinese restaurant a couple of miles away and settle down for a surprisingly delicious meal with beautifully balanced flavours and textures… until a wayward chilli hits the back of Ma’s throat.

‘Water?’ offers a concerned waiter.

‘No!’ Ma manages to gasp because no matter how many times we tell her water’s good for her, she just won’t drink enough of it.

‘Yes, please,’ I add quickly before one of us has to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre.

Disaster is, thank goodness, averted. By breakfast time, even the kitchen is restored to order. It’s a bright, beautiful morning and we’re off … to look at a boat!

Heading for the Rocks

Blue Nun and the rocks! Aaaah! The joy of having a boat again! Blue Nun’s so much more responsive than our wooden boat, lovely as she was, and so nippy too! We enjoy a brisk sail from Neyland to Dale where we spend a couple of restful days, reading, writing and generally watching the world go by. On the third morning we decide on a change of scenery and potter round to a sheltered bay where we can pick up a mooring buoy. Well, we would have, if I’d been quicker. Now, I’m pretty good at picking up buoys, but make a right dog’s dinner of it this time. ‘Never mind,’ says Tom, ‘we’ll give it another go!’ He puts the engine in reverse and Blue Nun obediently travels backwards (something no previous boat of ours has ever done!) … and a rope which trails the dingy behind the boat whirls round the propeller. Yikes! Tom manages to free enough to regain control of the engine, but he’s pretty sure that some of the rope is still tangled up. Whilst I would quite like to preten...

A Winter's Tale

Thursday 2 December Feeling confined in her snow-muffled flat, Ma takes a walk up her front path to take the morning air. As she returns a cat jumps over the wall and startles her. She slips on the icy path and lands heavily on her shoulder. When her injury doesn’t spontaneously heal, she eventually gives in and calls her local GP surgery. In the evening a GP visits and summons an ambulance ‘sooner rather than later’. Around 10.30 pm Ma is admitted to her local hospital. X-rays suggest she has a fractured scapula which will require emergency surgery. She is put on a nil by mouth regime that night and transferred to a larger hospital for an emergency operation. However, she’s picked a busy period for her accident so the operation doesn’t take place. Saturday 4 December The operation is rescheduled for this morning, so Ma’s had a second night of nil by mouth. A CT scan shows that Ma’s humerus is broken in four places. Despite her obviously smashed-up arm, which is in a sling and...

The Winds of Change

‘Good’, says my dear friend, Jill, when I tell her that Storm Ciara means the Llanelli Half Marathon has been postponed. ‘My guardian angel is working overtime!’. Jill’s guardian angel has indeed been very busy looking after her and her loved ones lately, so I’m impressed that she’s squeezed in a few extra hours to whip up a storm which will give me another four weeks to recover from my accident before I race. Bit tough on everyone else being battered by strong winds, of course, but yes, part of me is relieved. Llanelli’s one of my favourite races so I was reluctant to pull out, but a bit daunted by the prospect of running 13.1 miles just at the moment. My ribs have stopped clicking at last, but I’m afraid to sneeze without holding tight to the damaged area. So far as getting back to normal goes, my chipped front tooth has been repaired and most of my traumatised teeth have survived a ‘vitality test’ with electric pulp testing … which I have to say doesn’t half make you jump....

Home Thoughts Weekly

Search This Blog