Thursday, November 10, 2016

Chapter 17 Doubts and fears.


Chapter 17

 Doubts and Fears

“Quick Ginny – there’s one coming.  We can get it if we run.”
 
“Stick your hand out Pat then he’ll know we want it.”

Breathless and giggling we clambered up the steps of the double-decker bus.

“Did you have to come up stairs,” grumbled Ginny “I’ve been on duty all night and it stinks of fags.”

“You can see more up here,” I reasoned.

“Stunning Salford scenery- not quite the Lakes is it,” she snorted.

In spite of the badinage it was a rare treat for us to be out together so we were off for a morning in Manchester.

“What’s on your list Ginny?”

“I want to get a top that’s glamorous, colourful and cheap.  Ooh and warm so I can wear it at the Ice Rink. How about you Pat?”

“Actually a coffee at Sisson’s will be my limit.  You know that pretty silver grey beanie I bought?  I got a lecture from Jamie about spending – we are supposed to be saving.”

 I wished I could tell her – and all the family - that we were secretly engaged but I had promised Jamie to keep it between ourselves.  Later in Sisson's when we were sharing a delicious slice of Fullers Iced Walnut Cake Ginny asked me if everything was alright and I assured her it was.  I had lost my heart to Jamie but somehow he had got inside my head and our relationship was off balance.  It was that damned seesaw of love again but this time I was way up in the clouds; losing control and totally dependent on his smile or nod of approval.  We had to make do with fleeting visits when Jamie would try to hitch hike – sometimes with Paul who was back in Oxford.  These had to coincide with my days off. It was a long way to come for such a short time.  Things didn’t always go to plan – sometimes I was kept on duty and Jamie would be left twiddling his thumbs in Rossendale.  My next holiday was some months off in February and we planned that I should join him in Oxford then.

“When does Jamie take his Finals,”   Ginny asked.

“Next year and then just one more year and I’ll be through.”

“It’s a shame you have to stay on longer because you’re 6 months younger than everybody else,” commiserated Ginny.

“My own fault for leaving school at sixteen.”

We called in at a posh hairdresser's as Ginny wanted to know how much it would cost to have her hair cut and styled.  The Salon was named ‘Louis and Barnard’ and reeked of mink and Wilmslow.

“Who would Modom like to style Modom’s hair?”

“Oh - Louis or Barnard,”  Ginny drawled.  I exploded with giggles and we had to beat a hasty retreat.  How I missed the fun we used to have.  I seemed to just live for the next letter or phone call.  The only link was Paul and I received odd snippets of news from him via Maddie which - rather than being reassuring were vaguely disquieting.  Maddie and I weren’t getting on too well.  I realise now that life wasn’t too easy for her at this time; I seemed to be having all the fun whilst she was stuck at home with the baby.  She coveted a Prince of Wales check suit I had and wanted to borrow it for a trip to Oxford.  In return she would lend me her black suit.  Clothes were still very precious in the forties.  I kept my side of the bargain but Maddie changed her mind when it came to the black suit.  I think possibly the aunts didn’t approve but I was horrified and flew off the handle.  Maddie cried and I ended up in the dog house.  Normally this would be part and parcel of sibling rivalry but I earned Jamie’s disapproval and was shattered.  I knew exactly how Jane Austen’s Emma felt when she earned Mr Knightley’s displeasure.  I did behave badly but I thought I had reason to.  I have since learned to always ‘try to rise above it.’

Jamie was still very loving but I began to feel I was walking on egg shells and my spirits would plummet if I saw his frown.

  The monthly dances started and as my room was close to the phone room I answered it one evening and it was Andrew.  As Entertainment’s Officer of the Naval Camp he was phoning to liaise with one of our Dance Organisers.  I longed to ask him how he was but a shutter came down in my brain.  He said he was coming to the next dance in his role of E.O. so I reassured him that I wouldn’t be there.

“How are you Pat?  Have you changed your mind?”

I had enough problems – I couldn’t risk complications so I told him I hadn’t changed my mind and promised not to be at the dance.

  Over a week elapsed before I heard from Jamie and he said he was coming up.  I started to get pre-visit nerves.  I was at home on my day off and when I got violent stomach pains Mum got the doctor.  I remembered him from school - his sister had been in the same form and his father had put sutures above my eye when I was bashed with a hockey stick.

“Oh what are you reading,” he asked examining my poetry book?  Then he examined me and NAD.  Nothing abnormal was discovered.  Just part and parcel of Jamie nerves.  I was excited about Jamie’s visit but scared of anything going wrong.  My spirits alternated between elation and desolation.  I longed to be on an even keel once more.  Sometimes I would say something that made him laugh and he would look at me with love and I would be happy again.  I told him about Andrew- I told him everything – there had to be complete trust.  Maddie went down to Oxford to join Paul for her birthday and when she came back I asked her about Jamie looking to her for reassurance and there was none forthcoming- just vague worrying hints.

“He’s waiting for you to grow up,” she said dismissively.

Jamie’s birthday was coming up.  We had a colour that was special to us - a soft coral tan that was the shade of lipstick I used - Tangee.   Jamie had bought me a beautiful mohair scarf in the same hue and I found some wool in the same colour and as a real labour of love (I was a rubbish knitter) I decided to knit him some socks.  On four needles.  Maddie was an ace knitter- her needles would fly through the air whilst the garment grew at an alarming rate.  It was torture and everybody ribbed me but eventually the socks were finished with just one small hole where there shouldn’t have been.  Once I had darned it you would never have known.

  I took Jamie to meet the Millers whilst we were in Manchester and they were – as usual – very warm and welcoming.  That night Jamie wanted us to stay in Manchester but we couldn’t afford it and it seemed silly to stay in a sleazy B& B on a freezing cold night when we could have warm and cosy beds at home – to say nothing of Mum’s food.  Was I being selfish?  I could tell he wasn’t pleased and I sobbed silently in bed so as not to disturb Gran.

The next hospital dance I peeked through the windows and saw Andrew.  He looked a bit drunkish.  He didn’t come to another dance after that and it was the last time I ever saw him.

  One night Jamie phoned twice and didn’t get me.  When I got the message I phoned back and he wasn’t there.  I spoke to his landlord – who I had met – and he sounded strange.  Eventually I had a letter saying it would be better not to phone him as he had to be out a lot and he would phone me.  My state of mind was beginning to be affected.   Carelessly I put my hand in Oxalic which was very painful but did no lasting damage.  One of our long standing older patients was threshing about a lot whilst I was changing her and bashed my face with her fist.  She couldn’t help it of course but to my shame I burst into tears.  We all dreaded going to work in theatre for the first time and sure enough that was gong to be my next assignment.  The pressure was high and the two Sisters – excellent at their job - took no prisoners.  One was a sporty looking Amazon and the other was how I imagined an adult Violet Elizabeth Bott  of ‘Just William’ fame to look: slender, petite, curly hair, long lashed deep blue eyes and slightly protruding teeth.  She could totally demoralise you at six paces without ever raising her petulant little voice.  The first few days went well and then we had to autoclave rubber gloves to sterilise them.  The gloves were in the dangerous drugs cupboard and the keys were missing.  The engineer was called to break open the cupboard and there were the keys locked inside.  I had been the last person to have them.  I had been looking forward to seeing Matron because I had had an excellent report from Monsall Fever Hospital.  It was the custom for Matron to read reports aloud for one’s benefit.  Now I was going to see her for quite a different reason.  My health was suffering, my work was suffering – I couldn’t go one like this.  Something had to give.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Saturday, October 22, 2016

Portents?

 
 
Today I've been clearing out the attic and came across this poem I wrote sometime in the nineties.
It was winter and we were staying in our cottage twixt Skipton and Keighley - a lovely little village with an old church, a pub , the canal and the river Aire.
 
 
 
 
Farnhill
 
When the moon shines silver on the river,
When the hills and trees are decked with snow,
When ice crystals crunch beneath our footsteps,
And our nostrils prickle, do we know,
How lucky we are? 
 
When the gales gust wild upon the moor-side,
The rain is relentless, and the Aire,
Bursts its banks and floods the fields and meadows,
Drenching sheep and cattle, do we care,
How lucky we are?
 
When his chair is empty at the table,
And nobody reaches for your hand,
And the only voice is from the wireless,
Maybe then we'll really understand,
How lucky we were.
 
Let us seize the day, count our blessings,
Forget dewlaps, aches and stiffening knees,
Make each day a day to remember,
Cherish, love and aim to please.


Friday, October 14, 2016

It must be love.


Chapter 16

 It must be love.

. “Pat have you heard from Jamie yet?” 

I had bumped into Ginny outside the dining room.

“Yes thank goodness and at last I have an address.  Let’s meet up in the Rec when we come off duty and we can catch up.”

Ginny was her usual understanding self when I told her later of the harrowing meeting with Andrew and the angst at not being able to meet Jamie at the bus station.

“What rotten luck to be Relief Baby Nurse – the one duty when you can’t be off in the morning.  Was he upset?”

“He said he had been but soon realised it must have been impossible for me to get off duty.  It’s great to see you Ginny.  Most of our set are scattered all over the place – either on nights or at Baby Hospital …“

“Or Fever Hospital,” said Ginny, “including me.  I’m off tomorrow for a month.”

I groaned – life was going to be quite lonely for the next month or so.  We all had to do a month at St Mary’s Baby Hospital and also Monsall Fever Hospital.

“What’s the betting that as you come back from Monsall I’ll be next?”

  Letters became all important – from family, friends and patients but the reason I dashed to the mail pigeon holes twice a day was to see if I could spot that bold looped handwriting that was Jamie’s. I wrote to tell him what had happened with Andrew and anything else I thought might interest him.  Fortunately - on duty - my six babies kept me happily occupied.

  It did little for my peace of mind to hear he had missed his footing on a climb called Bad Step Alasdair but he assured me the rope had held and he was fine.  I was touched when he asked me to send him one of my lipsticks - they were smaller in those days and he could use it to stub down the tobacco in his occasional pipe.  Three times I sent one and three times it was returned by the Post Office so we had to abandon the idea.

Jamie left his mac in a car that had been giving him a lift.  There was an address in the pocket and the driver kindly returned it and told him ‘Look after that girl friend of yours.’

  Most of my free time was spent writing to Jamie or thinking about him.  The word ‘soon’ was for ever in my mind like a mantra.  It was the word we used to comfort a child who wanted its mother or wanted to go home. 

  A welcome diversion was when the Student Nurses’s Association asked me to put on a play for Christmas so casting and rehearsals kept me busy.  Then the Miller family – parents of my little Jewish patient – David - invited me for a week-end trip to St Anne’s.  It was fun showing them the Convalescent Home where I had started my training.  St Anne’s was agog that week-end as the very famous film star Margaret Lockwood was there and we were all thrilled to catch a glimpse of her - a raven haired beauty with her signature central parting, her lovely figure encased in glamorous white lace.  The children and I romped up and down the sand hills and we had the usual Hector trauma driving back to Manchester with no headlamps.

As I had suspected I was to be next to do a stint at Monsall.  I planned to do General Nursing after Sick Children so it would be useful experience in dealing with adult patients.  It certainly was an eye opener.

Oh joy!  A letter saying that Jamie planned to return towards the end of August. Yippee!

As I arrived at Monsall Ginny was leaving but there was a letter and chocolates from Jamie.  He would be with me soon; I hoped he would find his way to this unfamiliar locality.

  After my first day I decided I hated it.  There was some horrible language on the wards which themselves seemed grimy in comparison with our own pristine ones at Pen.

The Fever Nurses were used to this reaction from the Children’s Nurses and did their best to make us welcome and helped us to cope with the very different circumstances. Generally they treated us with kid gloves.  Soon we settled in and things began to improve but one morning I was asked to bathe a new admission - a man with erysipelas.  As I pulled the screens around him I noticed he was very dark, extremely hairy and I felt uncomfortable under his glare.  With shaky hands I started to remove the bedclothes.  He lurched forward, grasped my hand and leered at me.  I wrenched my hand away and fled to the sluice.  I felt an idiot but no way was I going back behind those screens.

Staff Nurse followed me into the sluice.

“Don’t worry love – we get all sorts on this ward.’

 I wasn’t asked to bathe a man again.

It was interesting seeing new diseases and learning about barrier nursing but it made me realise how lucky I was to be at such an excellent training school as Pendlebury.

  One night on the Women’s Ward there was a sweet grey-haired old lady with long plaits twined round her head.  We weren’t busy so remembering how Gran used to love me to brush her hair I asked her if she would like me to brush hers.  She nodded, and as I let down her hair I realised with horror that it was alive.  With shaking hands I excused myself and went to report to Sister.  I was horrified and angry that this could happen.  Of course on admission at Pen every child had their heads examined for nits and if they did have them we treated them daily until their heads were clean; it was a morning ritual so there was no chance of cross infection.  Thank Heaven I hadn’t listened to the Staff Nurse at St Anne’s who tried to persuade us all to do Fevers instead of Sick Children.

At this time there was a lot of polio or infantile paralysis as it was also known.  It was a viral infection of the nervous system and patients were treated by being put in an iron lung.  The American President FDR Roosevelt developed polio in the early 1920’s and spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair.  One night we got this pretty young woman admitted with suspected polio.  She was very distressed as she had twin babies and naturally didn’t want to be separated from them.  The doctor told her quite firmly that she was very ill indeed and naturally she became more distressed.  I stayed with her as long as possible trying my best to comfort her.  I really believed she would get better.  I was totally shocked the next morning to be told she had died during the night.  All part of one’s nursing experience and I concluded that I didn’t want to do Fever Training and wondered if I really wanted to do my General.  I felt very fortunate to be nursing sick children.

One of the younger doctors was very attentive and asked me for a game of tennis but I didn’t want any complications so politely refused.

  At last a letter came from Jamie to say he was arriving in Rossendale that day.  I sent a telegram to Mum to ask her to get Jamie to ring which he did at 11.30pm and we arranged he would come here for my evening off.

Next day was a beautiful day and I had an ambulance trip to Knutsford to pick up a patient.  Off duty at 5pm and there was my darling sitting in the waiting room.  It was Heaven to be in his arms again, to smell his fresh open air smell and feel his tweedy jacket against my cheek.  Only the lure of the open air could tempt us from that dingy waiting room.  We went to a place incredibly named Bogart Hole Clough – a steep valley with lots of trees and beautiful bird song.  We walked dreamily and ended up in Manchester at the Blue Angel for a meal.  Back at the hospital we parted- but only for a day.

  I asked Matron if I could be off duty in the evening so I could go home with Jamie and she agreed.  It was always a given at my own hospital- that you would have the evening off before your day’s leave.  Later on we started shifts and could finish at lunch time, have the next day off and return at lunch time the following day- two nights at home which were much appreciated.

I phoned the Millers and told them I couldn’t see them this week and they said to bring Jamie next time.  Young David was endlessly playing his new record ‘Sparkey’s Magic Piano.’  I couldn’t get the tune out of my head: ‘I’ll play anything you want me to play…from now on.’  Sung with a jangly, twangy voice that sounded like Cher with croup.

Jamie picked me up and we went home on the bus.  Only Gran was in so we made supper and she went to bed.  As each member of the family came in we would make them a drink and then sit and chat until the penny dropped and they would retire to bed.  We were allowed to stay up to do the washing up and sometimes we did. Our time together was precious and brief.  We kept on the go so as not to fret about the inevitable separations.

Down we waltzed to the aunts and had coffee with Maddie and Paul (Maddie told me Paul could tell if a girl had slept with anybody just by looking at them.  Well I hope he got it right about me!)  Maddie’s friend from Art School was staying – the Vamp as I called her.  Back home again Gran had left lunch for us and we took a bus over the moors towards Burnley.  Between Toll Bar and Townley Park I remembered there was a farm up on a hill which served delicious teas.  It was a long way from the road but there was a helpful white painted sign on the roof announcing ‘TEAS’.  At last In spotted the farm and we had a leisurely climb up for tea.  It certainlty live up to its reputation.  Walking back replete, we came upon theTownley Arms and spent an hour playing cricket and drinking cider. There was no sign of a bus so we started the long 6 mile walk home.  When we came to the wide corner where there is a sort of natural balcony overlooking  the wildest, dourest part of the moors - no Lakeland beauty here – Jamie put his hands on my shoulders and looking earnestly at me said,

“Patricia Dixon Barnes will you marry me?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I screeched, whilst the pipits and the plovers seemed to join in with a joyful chorus.

  It was a surprise – he was starting his final year with quite a few debts, His parents were working class with three sons to educate – two at Oxford - and he had no visible means of support until he started earning.  I still had18 months to do but was earning – if only a pittance.  It amazes me – looking back - on what a great time we had on so little cash.

“Pat I think we should keep it a secret for the time being.”   I wanted to shout it from the house tops but promised to be discreet.

We started the long trek home.  It was mainly down hill so we would run until Ifell over and Jamie had to pick me up and slow me down.  Miraculously we finally made it.

   Everybody was there including the Vamp who was puzzled by the hairy ties all the men were wearing.

“Is it some sort of Secret Society” she asked? 

“No“said Evan. “they’re presents our Pat brought back from’t Lake District!”

I felt Mum staring at me; she could tell I was very excited but I gave nothing away by mouth and kept my word.

When everyone had gone and we were metaphorically doing the washing up Jamie kissed me and I fainted

When I came round Jamie wanted to get Mum but there was a simple explanation.  My face was quite a bit smaller than Jamie’s and he managed to totally block my airways. .  I wasn’t behaving like a Victorian Miss and it wasn’t the kiss of death.

 We said goodbye in Manchester the next day.  It had been a wonderful couple of days
The future looked bright - but it was a mirage.

Monday, September 19, 2016

French River Cruising. Final Part.


 Cruising down the Seine.
 Next port of call Montoir-de - Bretagne.  This was somewhat of a concrete jungle.  I was told submarines were stored here during the war and once ashore it had a dreadful wasteland feel to it.  I was with a passenger with mobility problems so it was difficult to get away from the concrete.
 We persevered and at last found a sea shore and a café and then slowly returned to the ferry bus for our ship
 

 A lovely tree in beautiful Bordeaux.
 We spent 2 nights here and I was able to wander round the streets which reminded me of Paris.

 A lovely little church near a delightful square for coffee.  Such a relief to have Braemar in my sights.  Impossible to get lost.  Here we were cruising the Garonne and Gironde rivers.
On board alone it is very easy to get the days confused and as a result I missed one of my excursions.
It was 'leisurely Rochelle' in a pony and trap.  Friends tod me it was very bumpy so I gave myself a talking to and won't do that again.  Two of the best excursions I had already done and two were booked up by the time I had decided.  However Trevarez Castle  was a treat.
 We drove through pleasant countryside from Lorient.  There are really beautiful gardens in France but as the main plants here are rhododendrons, camellias, azaleas and hydrangeas it was mainly the beauty of the woodland and surroundings that attracted.  There are various exhibitions in the outbuildings
 Here is our guide leading us up the garden path.
 Trevarez Castle was built in the early 20th century and looks down over the scenic Aulne Valley
 You can see why it is named the Pink castle.  Alas on Sunday 30th July it was bombed by the RAF and subsequently partly destroyed.  It was bought by the Finistere council and buildings and gardens have been beautifully restored.  It is very much a work in progress and inside much of it is like an immaculate bomb site.  One dreads to think how much it is costing and who is to pay?  Not the RAF I'm fairly sure.
 There is a fantastic drop from the castle to the Aulne Valley.  These shots were taken from the terrace

 Part of the ongoing restoration.  Its going to be divine one day.
 Finally we repaired to the Orangery and had tea or coffee with a cake which appeared a little dry but had a delicious filling of prune puree which saved its bacon.
Au revoir France.  A bientot.
 


Sunday, September 18, 2016

French River Cruising Part 2

 Next came Rouen situated on the banks of the Seine and described by Victor Hugo as the city of a hundred spires.  It is the capital of Normandy and has inspired artists and writer in the past.  The cathedral - with its Gothic façade has been immortalised by Monet.

 
 Scattered around the streets are 2' high concrete pillars which become invisible should you stop to  look in a shop window or chat with a friend resulting in shins becoming an interesting navy blue colour.  All fading now.
 Rouen is the capital of Normandy and has distinctive architecture.



 The cathedral is very impressive outside but I was disappointed with the interior.  It suffered from bombing in WW2 and seems to have been neglected.  We were on a tour and the guide didn't wait for everyone to gather so must of us missed the commentary and as she had no microphone and didn't project her voice we missed most of the commentary and I missed seeing the tomb where the heart of Richard the Lionheart is buried.
 Above is the famous astronomical clock - the oldest in France1389  It just has the one hour hand and is a thing of beauty.
 In the Place du Vieux Marche we entered the Chapel commemorating Joan of Arc
and I was startled to realise that although she led the French army to victory she was only 19 when she was burnt alive.
 
Here is a structure on the site of her pyre.
"Saint Joan of Arc was burnt alive in the Old Market Square in Rouen, France on the morning of May 30, 1431, pronounced a heretic, relapse and idolater. Her ashes were gathered and thrown into the Seine River. According to witnesses present at her execution, during the final moments of her life she saw several priests with tears in their eyes. Turning to them she said, "All you priests who are here, I beg you to say a Mass for me, every one of you."
 
I met two nice women - Anne and Sue  and also Eve from Cornwall who is doing the same Amalfi coast cruise next year.
 
 


French River Cruising


  Part 1
 My cabin in chaos.  It's late afternoon - I've yet to unpack.  It's lifeboat drill and early dinner is 6.15pm
 As our captain says 'Ladies and yentle men out beautiful chip Braemar where a year last Christmas I broke my arm learning the slow foxtrot.  Don't worry boys - I shall keep my promise not to dance.
 Our first port of call - lovely Honfleur.  a classic French experience.  A casual coffee where my French was understood.  Helping a fellow passenger buy pyjamas - apparently he had forgotten them and then an aperitif watching the boats bobbing and the world go by- with a delicious lunch to look forward to.


Monday, August 29, 2016

The Call of the Running Tide

It's that time again.  French Rivers in September - who could resist?  The Bayeux tapestry I did years ago when my elder son was a teenager and Monet's garden I did when our French family were living in Paris but I've never been to Bordeaux and there are plenty of other excursions to choose from.

I shall take my camera.  This inability to post photos can't last for ever.  Back soon.  Keep the faith.