I once believed November was the down time of the year, with its dismal, gloomy weather. The Christian month during which one remember the dead. But then it got personal, people around me fell ill, died. Too many anniversaries and now I realise that Feb/March isn't so good either. Last year I broke my ankle, a family death the year before and the other day I discovered that humans really should not attempt low-level flying over tarmac, at least not without a safety net.
I was not alone, but still strangers stopped to offer help. A couple clutching a mobile wanting to phone for an ambulance; a chap who jumped from his car with blankets to ward off shock; a young man who rushed home and returned with a bottle of water and the offer of shelter in his porch until the ambulance arrived; an off duty paramedic who flagged down a passing ambulance (my apologies to whoever was left waiting...)
I felt an idiot (well, you do don't you? causing all this bother), but also warmed that strangers should care. My thanks to them all.
They encircled me, watching but not staring. Without anything being said, taking turns to look out, around, as though checking (for the ambulance, no doubt). The youngster crouched down, talking just enough to make sure I was okay, conscious.
Thinking later, I wondered if this was part of an instinctive behavioural pattern, why we survived as a people in the dark times.
No-one rushed off to be somewhere else until I and my other half were whisked off to the experts in A + E for several hours before being discharged and guided in to a friend's car, clutching the obligatory leaflet listing all the bad things to watch out for over the next few days.
No bones broken, although sporting a scary fang (a cap broke off a front tooth) and the promise of some ostentatious bruising.
Ah well, soon be spring!
(Note to self - must check pond for frogspawn).
No comments:
Post a Comment