Yesterday was a day of company, pub lunches, spankingly brand new cars, Audrey Hepburn purses, ya bastard, chocolates, arguments with bar staff and cat seeking.

Best of all it was a day of visiting a beautiful nana [in an ugly hospital]. 

She looked perky, sparkled with love and twinkled with humour.

The hospital was unworthy of her stay. 

I’ve only had the pleasure of staying in hospital once.  Mumsy called me in for tea and in my excitement I pedalled too fast and came flying off my bike as I turned a corner.  My paternal nana was staying at the time and told Mumsy that my six year old self would be fine if I just lay on the settee and slept.  Obviously I wasn’t sleeping.  Not in the true sense of the word, of course.  Our neighbours drove us to the hospital.  They x-rayed my head, told me I’d have to stay in.  They said I had a fractured skull.  I sat on a trolley in the corridor and cried. 

Later my Mummy hid in the corridor outside the ward whilst I was visited by Father and the [notsowicked] StepMother.  They brought me a Mr Topsy-Turvey mug.  I wanted them to go so I could talk to Mummy.  Besides, I knew she was upset and needed comfort. 

Even later, they x-rayed my head again.  I didn’t have a fractured skull after all. 

It was a miracle!

[or some glitch on the first x-ray maybe … i wouldn’t mind being allowed to see them and have them examined, just to see – you know]

I went home with a Big Black Eye.

Hospitals smell.  They smell of wee and vomit, old people and alcohol rubs, cabbage and spilt blood.  Once the height of fashion and money well spent, they soon look dated and odd.  You visit and you get in their way.  You can’t help but wonder at the people who inhabit the beds. 

Ugly places.

I fancy I might go private if I ever have to have a prolonged stay in hospital.  And I never thought I’d ever say that. 

I feel such a snob …

please God bless the NHS xxx Elsabeth