I don’t remember being so wary of Hallowe’en before – do evil spirits need encouragement ? – but yesterday, on the way home from Specsavers, there was a boy in the most terrific scary suit, obviously home made, funny and horrible. I said “Oh wow !” – his mother beamed with pleasure, and he gave a small skip – which I am sure he would deny as childish to his friends.
Annie who is my adopted Italian granddaughter sent a note from Milan
wishing me well for Samhain and I had an end of year angel – 25, tall, Polish and helpful. This was my first consumer experience of Specsavers – and Julia deserves stars. Modern time being too often about consumption rather than experience, we are now pushing forward, on the way to Guy Fawkes , pretty short on pretty and pretty long on more noise than a mortar attack. Heaven help the animals and the nervous.
I wonder how many people know that noise is the old way (instinctive and learned) of counteracting fear. It doesn’t always work but it makes you feel better. I am in the other group about noise, I wonder what it covers or seeks to distract from, what it means, what I should take from it. And of course I have wonderful memories of both occasions – turnip lanterns and “mumblers” for Hallowe’en, while November 5 brought a selection of dazzling fireworks in the back garden with several neighbours and their children and then round to them for second and third goes.
There was a bonfire on the corner up the road
and the adults roasted potatoes and sausages in the ashes, talked about who made the guy, and got rid of big garden waste like branches and prunings and privet.
On 31 October, I went to Specsavers in desperation after a close friend told me that her father had had an eye infection similar to my own and the help he received at his local optician. Yes I know I sound like a fussbudget but I am the end of the small list of what I thought would help – the NHS dermatology appointment isn’t till 20 November – I cherish my eyes
and though they are better, I wanted reassurance.
I admitted to myself before I went in the door, the worst could be another muddled disappointment. I was assessed for the appointment by a Roumanian, Julia the optometrist was Polish. (At this point insert a cheer for Europe.) I had typed the whole story including medicines prescribed privately – expensive but I was very frightened – who I had seen, what they said and that I was prepared to be told to go away. Instead I got commonsense up to and including – are you listening, Moorfields? – the reintroduction of the drug that may have been the problem. With enough explanation to sound reasonable.
Four useful practical comments.
The drainage expert ( plumbing adventures are a whole other story, of course at the same time – we like a challenge !) had a wife waiting three weeks for a biopsy – negative thank God. And no this isn’t potshot at NHS. This is “thank heaven we have them” but they are under significant measurable pressure – so rushed that bits get missed out. And therein lie all sorts of problems.
On the bus back there was a tiny girl in a completely over the top red leather dress – and the figure to go with it – with a tall charming boyfriend- she was from Cheshire and he was a medical student. She mopped her brow and looked at me appealingly – “We had to run – and my makeup …” “You don’t need it” said I , sounding exactly like my father. And got them to talk , cheered for him, shook hands with them both and thought – as I walked home through the quiet of early evening – maybe the evil spirits come later and I got the tail end of the good ones ? Do I need to understand that I just had a positive experience ? No – I just gratefully accept, and go on.
