Today’s music is They told me my name was spelt incorrectly by The Fracture Clinic.
Today was completely dominated by our appointment at UCLH Fracture Clinic, 5.30pm. It was the wettest of wet blankets.
The plan was for Pete to visit a local laundrette early and do some washing. The best laid plans… Having walked across town with a back pack of clothes he found the owner was on holiday for a week.
Back to the hotel. We started the transfer to the nearby Hilton as there were no rooms available for the night in our current place. First the bags, a word with reception and then back to bring Sharon over.
Hilton reception were wonderful. It was 10am and they hadn’t a clean empty room, but on realising Sharon’s situation they immediately put housekeeping on cleaning a room that had just been vacated.
Pete disappeared to another launderette.
On his return the room was ready… and so was reception! Something was going on… ropes and barriers were going up, a crowd was building.
Having got settled, Sharon didn’t feel like moving. Possibly the looming clinic visit was just too much of a downer. Pete nipped out and bought treats. Pain au raisin, custard tart, Orangina – Sharon. Chalky’s Bite and pork pie -Pete.
Afternoon TV – is it bad every where in the world? – and finally the dreaded moment. Time to leave for the Fracture Clinic.
In 2023 we were walking from the English Channel to Scotland. On the Thames Path, near Docklands Sharon engaged in banter with the West Ham United squad. As we left the Islington Hilton so did the Arsenal football team. Headed for a pre-season friendly against Villarreal.
To facilitate fan interaction the ramp out of the hotel was being used by the team. And us. Players tried to politely sidestep Sharon as if she was a rampant Norman Hunter or Tom Forsyth. The fans couldn’t give a shit.
Finally we were ushered rather inelegantly out of the way by Arsenal minders. Nothing new there, I’ve always disliked the Arse’.
And so on to the dreaded appointment at UCLH.
Jeez, the NHS is good. A 5.30pm appointment. Cut the cast off. Go for an X-Ray. Meet the surgeon. Clear analysis. Bit of banter about his OE in Nelson. Moon boot fitting. Out by 6.20pm.
It’s hard to explain the feeling of relief. A) The diagnosis was better than expected. B) That was the end of hospitals. C) We could have a holiday. D) No arguing with the travel insurer – all the medical stuff was free as part of the NZ-UK reciprocal agreement.
Sharon visibly straightened up as the confidence flooded back.
A taxi back to the hotel and a chance to breathe again. Comfort food: cheeseburger and fries. Beer: house IPA for Pete and a small Guinness for our hero. Two More Beers, gastro pub, met our needs perfectly.
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