Day 100 (25 June) ER
When I woke at eight forty this morning it took me thirty seconds to reboot my brain and get back some situational awareness. I did not panic because it felt like an adventure.
Who knows who I might turn out to be?
But the ‘right’ memories soon slotted back into place and I was back in the game.
I put ‘right’ in quotes as I have no choice but to work on the assumption that the memories in place are my memories.
But if you are the memory librarian and you are reading this, please do not hesitate to throw a few more nice ones my way. Raunchy is fine.
Back to the plot.
Yesterday morning started quite well. The clock chimed eleven as I looked round the house and realised that at last everything was ship-shape after the flood. Seven thousand litres of mains water in the house and three days later you would not know it. Apart from the bags under my eyes.
‘Ouf!’ I thought! And then another ‘Ouf!’ for good measure. 'I can put my feet up and chill in the sun. Well done oh good and faithful householder!'
One minute later the phone rang.
A dear friend of mine needed taking to the emergency services at the university clinic in a nearby town. So I picked her up and off we tootled to get things sorted. Of course these places tend to be busy so it was around five before I got home to feed Alfie and the guinea pigs and dash straight out again to meet The Lady. This is The Lady who has hold of my heart and my imagination, and much else were I to have my way. Except, after a pleasant and affectionate stroll, I again learned what I already knew. No. Not Boyle’s Law. The friend zone thing.
I have friends already. It is like being offered a mint when you asked for a screwdriver.
Home again around 10:30 and driiiiiing! My friend from this morning had a recurrence of the same condition; so back to the emergency room.
‘Yes yes, we have your names. Take your seats. The usual ones…’
So, I was slouched on the plastic seat waiting for my friend to be helped when I was shocked out of my somnolence by the ex-wife alert siren blaring out of my phone- waking everybody.
‘Alert! Alert! Ex-wife calling. Do you really want to take this call?’
I took it. One a.m. My younger daughter.
‘Papa, Mummy can’t see!’
I have known this for years. At last other people are catching on.
But my daughter meant it literally. Her mum had been gardening and something got into her eyes, seriously affecting her vision and causing much pain.
‘Papa! Can you go to the emergency room?’
‘I don’t need to honey. I’m already there.’
‘But can you pick up Mummy? - I’ve had a few drinks’
Ì wish I had.
Soooooo- off to her Mum’s village and back to the emergency room an hour later to be warmly greeted by my friends (you see dear Lady? ) the night staff.
‘Hi Neil! Everything good?’
‘Hi Pieter! Everything chill! You barbecuing this weekend?’
‘Sure am. If you want to swing by for a beer to two!’
‘Sure thing Pieter!’
At four in the morning it was confirmed both ladies would be staying in over night. Time to go home.
At eight forty I woke and started a text conversation with the The Lady. Obviously this was never going to go the way I wanted and quite predictably it did not.
So I am on the market.
A few dents, engine in great condition. Needs some work on the brakes and the Central Processing Unit.
It is now one forty. Just got the green light to go back to the clinic and pick up my team.
I will be exchanging addresses with the staff so we can send each other Christmas cards and wedding invitations.