Something To Look Forward To

 

Photos capturing that moment

 

Today's Early Morning Walk

 

It must have been just after 7am when I set out for my walk and what a difference now with the mornings being lighter and it felt like a spring morning. I was only about 5 minutes into my walk when a wild deer crossed the path about a couple of hundred yards in front of me, to far for a phone photo plus I knew it would be gone by the time I got organised to take a photo. I thought it was on its own, however after watching me carefully for a few seconds it leapt into the brush, then back out again with its fawn. They then leapt up a small hill on the other side of the path into the forest. What a lovely start to my walk. All I could hear was birdsong, and I felt the stillness all around, absolutely glorious. I did take some photos with my phone and here they are:-

 

 

Part of my Healer’s Journey

 

Part of my Healer’s Journey

 

You may remember from earlier part of my story that I am a jogger, more of the tortoise rather than the hare, especially nowadays. And also, my earlier jogging route up to Morton Reservoir involved passing fields of sheep. Well one morning, early, I was jogging up the hill and I saw two large Alsatian dogs chasing a single sheep. I was over the fence and chased the dogs away, or so I thought. It was only on my way back down that I saw the body of the sheep lying in the field. I normally passed the little road leading to the farmer’s house but this time I headed a long to tell him what had happened. And whilst he was appreciative of my concern, and that he could legally shoot the dogs, he wouldn’t do that because they were guard dogs belonging to a nearby fishery and they must have escaped. I never thought for a moment until then that I could have had a bit of trouble if they had turned on me as I chased them Mind you I was probably a frightening spectacle, red in the face, waving my arms whilst puffing and panting chasing them through the field!

But the next part of my story again involves a sheep and a part of my healer’s journey, same jog, different day. I had reached the path leading to Morton Reservoir, and I climbed the gate, because it was shut due to it being early morning, 6.30ish. And as I jogged down the path heading to the water, I saw a solitary sheep lying on the other side of a fence and I thought I’d better check it out. I climbed the fence fully expecting the sheep to be dead or to get to it’s feet and run a way, but it didn’t move.  I could see it was alive though but was unsure of what the problem was. I could see it watching me as I got close to it, speaking to it soothingly (I hoped) and then I squatted down beside it and put my hands on it’s side and gave it healing. Well, much to my surprise after a little while it got to it’s feet, looked at me, and then wandered off fully restored.

Starting School

 Parkhead Primary School

 

As you will know from my previous blog, I have a twin sister Isabel and of course she and I started school at the same time.

 

A bit about the schools first, we began primary school in the old primary school in West Calder, and it was very close to the old West Calder High School. Eventually we moved from the old Primary School to the sparkling new Parhead Primary School which is still going to this day. Then the same happened again, we attended the old high school in West Calder then we were moved to the brand new and enormous looking new West Calder High School in Polbeth. It is now a housing estate and there is another new West Calder High School situated between Polbeth and West Calder. In those days there were no computers, calculators or mobile phones, it was all done my brain (such as it was), pencil, paper and eraser.  In fact now I remember we also had inkwells on our desks in Primary School and learned to use pens with nibs and blotting paper, most young people now adays wouldn't know what they were. The new High School was amazing because it had a swimming pool and we were taught to swim. Gym was never my thing and I could never seem to master climbing a rope!

New schools though felt new, with

brand new furniture, brand new blackboards but same old teachers, bless them all!

 

I wanted to tell you about my first day at school, my Mum got Isabel and I all dressed up in our new school uniforms and we had to get the bus into school.  My Mum led us into the room where all the new, rather, nervous pupils with their parents were. I learned later that my Mum was worried about how Isabel would be on her first day but it was needless, Isabel was like a duck to water, absolutely no problem. Me on the other hand, well, how could my Mother leave me with all those strangers, I bawled and I seem to remember hanging onto my Mother's ankles when she tried to leave.

 

There is a footnote to the school story. My little sister, Helen, was 4 years younger than us and she watched us going to school each day and couldn't (as I found out later) wait to start. She must have been about 4 when one of my Mum's friends thankfully came upon young Helen with a vanity case in hand standing at the bus stop determined she was going to school and returned her home.  My Mother thought she was out playing with her friends, the little scamp! That feeling of wanting to go to school I am sure didn't last when she had to go to school!

Hospital

 Bangour Hospital

Ever since I was small, I had difficulty breathing through my nose and suffered with catarrh. My Mum had taken me to the Doctor and eventually I was referred to Bangour Hospital (now closed).  Now Bangour Hospital started off as a lunatic asylum (that is what it was called then) and eventually became a full hospital separate from the Asylum and where the wards were basically like long Nissan huts, at least that is how I remember them, with rows of beds. The hospital in those days was in the middle of nowhere and it required two buses to get there which probably took about an hour, or so. 10 - 15 minutes now in the car. In those days cars were much rarer and we didn’t have one. I may have been 8ish but possible younger at the time.  This was the start of 4 operations at the hospital, each required me to be in the hospital for at least 5 days. My Mum took me with my case, pj’s toiletries etc. Every new patient had to have a bath, then on with the pj’s, dressing gown and slippers, all new for my visit. The ward was a mix of adults and children and on my first night, ever, away from home on my own it was scary.  The long ward echoing through the night with children crying, and I am sure there was snoring too. My first breakfast there remains clearly in my mind. It was delivered into the ward on a trolley with a lady pushing it YODELLING to let everybody know she was there.  I had never heard yodelling before, and it certainly woke you up. We got porridge which was nowhere near as good as my Mum’s. Every night my poor Mum made the journey to visit me leaving my three sisters with our dad once he got home from work.  She used to bring me in Tarzan books which I loved.

 

On the day of my operation the nurse came round and told me I would be going to theatre, and I thought I was going to a show. The nurse came round a little later to give me a spoonful of medicine that was supposed to relax me and it was vile. Then shortly before I was to go for my op, I was given big woollen socks to put on and then I was bound in a white sheet so that I could not move my arms or my legs. I was wheeled to Theatre and then gassed which is why I was trapped in the sheet so that I couldn’t struggle. For years afterwards I couldn’t abide the smell of ether. As I was being gassed it felt like I was being sucked down a big, black, negative whirlpool. When I came round, I was back in the ward, no dinner, and I was sick bringing up black blood. What they did, I found out later, was cauterize my nose which didn’t help one bit. That is why I ended up going back for another 3 operations. The second operation was the same format as the other and I was gassed again. When it came to the third time, I asked my Mum to ask if I could have an injection rather than gas (someone must have mentioned this when I was in the ward the previous time). My Mum asked and thankfully no getting gassed this time, but still no better breathing and the fourth visit yielded the exact same results, nada! It was years later; I must have been in my late 30’s before it was fixed? My nose had been broken at Karate training three times, it took me ages to learn not to lead with my nose when I was sparring, anyway the first time (in my 20’s)was a simple op and no difference, the second time, years later the young consultant called me in and drew a diagram of the inside of my nose, he explained that it was the lining of my nose causing the problem and he was going to trim it whilst fixing the break. After that op I had a nose spray, but it was like heaven, being able to breathe through my nose was literally life changing with all that oxygen going to my brain, it was like being in a beautiful meditation. After the next break and operation, I didn’t need the spray and it has been great ever since. And I never take how wonderful breathing properly and deeply is, and what a profound effect it has in relaxing the mind and brain, instantly.

 

I had been to the hospital before but then my twin sister Isabel was with me, she was in the girls ward and I was in the boys ward and we were getting our tonsils removed, this was standard procedure in those days, we could only have been 3 or 4, certainly before we started school.

My First Job

 

I think I was 14 when my mother spoke to our local milkman (from the Co-op) when he came around to get paid, for in those days milk was delivered to your door in glass bottles. She managed to get me a job which meant an early start, up at 4am, for a 4.30 start, in all weathers, 7 days a week.  On school days we finished in time to go home, grab some breakfast, get changed then off to school. At weekends we did the full milk run and finished 9 -10 o’clock.  Along with those early starts I still had my brass band practice two nights a week and during the summer playing at Gala days and competitions as well. So my life was pretty hectic, but they were great times. I remember going into the Co-op offices on a Friday after school to collect my first wage and in those days, it was always real money, not bank transfers.  I received my little wages envelope form the clerkess and once outside, glowing with pride and anticipation, I couldn’t wait to rip it open and there it was, my wage for working 7 days a week, one single pound. I thought I had died and gone to heaven.

 

Me and the other milk boy, Tom Kelly, used to have some fun.  One early morning when we were delivering along his street he ran in and came out with a hot cuppa for me with a good mix of fairy liquid included (washing up liquid for dishes). It was just as well he was nippy on his feet, for after I had finished choking and spluttering, I don’t know what I would have done to him if I had caught him. But we settled down and laughed about it, however I was left for a little while with a bad taste in my mouth.  Another time our milkman went into his house and left us two miscreants outside. Tommy let off the hand brake and we pushed the milk truck (safely) along the road aways to give our milkman a fright, which we did! There was blood spilled though for when I was pushing the truck I had one of my hands over one of the indicator lights and it broke and I still have the faint scar to this day.

 

One morning in the dark I got a real fright.  I was carrying my milk bottle carrier (held maybe 10 bottles) and I climbed external stairs to collect the empty bottles and replace them with fresh bottles. I got to their door and much to my horror I saw a large pair of pink eyes staring at me in the dark and I nearly dropped my carrier and bolted, however on courageous inspection, at least I tell myself that, I discovered it was a massive albino rabbit that must have escaped from its hutch.