END OF TOUR: DISASTER AND THE BOOT!

No, I have not joined Star Wars.  This is my #$%$ boot.  Read on if you have the time and the stomach for disaster.

I doubt anyone is really interested but this is where my tour of England ENDED in Dec. 2017.   Some may think it was the beer.  Not so.  My pictures of pub visits are exaggerated   But I did like the one pub visited.  Sad…just one pub.  Then things went off the tracks in front of the showroom car below. (pic 5, before blood on floor)
Gabriela was buying a used car in Sheffield..  Very modern showroom that had two hidden steps that I did not see.  Ended up spread eagled on the tiled floor in front of that white car.  No one heard me take the dive.  Hit with my head so thought I would be fine.  Glasses bent…a little blood trickling down.  But I could not get up.  Left leg would not do what was expected of it.
Salesmen arrived.  Really worried as they wondered who I was and how I got there. “Don’t move, we’ll can an ambulance.”  “
What?  Forget that idea…lift me up.”  Sat in a showroom chair until they found Kevin who was some distance away in another showroom.  From there we managed to get back to London…about four hours.  I figured leg would get better.  Not so.  Next day Gab found a private hospital…i.e. not part of English health care.  Diagnosis was later confirmed as torn Achilles tendon.  So now I have this goddamn boot to wear for six weeks (or longer…yuck!).  Going nowhere so will
occupy my time with stories.  Some slightly exaggerated.  I like the make stories better than they really were.  Just a personal character flaw.
Private health care was great by the way.  Doctor took me right away then an orthopaedic socialist, whups, I mean specialist arrived, hardly a socialist if private health care…then a rugger player came with this huge boot which feels like a cement block on my left leg…then sent me to a sound machine which must be some kind of X ray thing which confirmed everything.  “Tear is serious…but not completely severed…hence the boot.”
“Feels like a cement block, how does that help?  Are you trying to rip the tendon completely? Sadists.”
“No.  Your tendon will be allowed to mesh.”
“Did you say mesh or mash?”
“Best to be quiet, sir.   Did you have a head injury as well?”
“No, I hit first with my head…drove glasses into my eyelash. Lucky.”
“Lucky?”
“Head is like a block of wood…dense…useless…”
“Sir, would you be serious.  Who are all these people with you?”
“Well, first off…the woman with the horse manure on her boots is Gabriela.  She found this place.  She  spends a lots of time mucking out horse stalls.  Loves the smell of ‘horse manure in the morning’ if I might use a slightly changed quote from the movie Apocalypse Now. The other woman carrying my clothes and holding the money is my wife Marjorie who you do not want to cross.  She is my bodyguard.  The guy in the black outfit is our son Kevin who just got off a Spanish show horse yesterday.  A war horse, sir. He is a rider (as long as the more is tethered and runs in circles.).  And finally there is Morgan, one of our Grandkids who acts as aid de camp to Marjorie and therefore is a person to be treated with caution.”
“Patients do not come here often with a private army.”
“Do I have to pay for everyone?”
“Best we concentrate on the leg, sir.  You will be out of combat for the next six weeks.  The boot is better than a leg cast.”
“And the price?  We are just country folk as you can tell by the road apple stuff on Gabriela’s boots.”
“Price is the same, sir…Three of us are doctors.  You are getting the best care possible.  No waiting…an orthopaedic specislist, a radiologist, a GP.  We will do all this in just a couple of hours.  Glad you are so cheerful.”
Crying on the inside, doctor.’
“Why?”
“I am the skip of a very important Canadian curling team. Depend on my firm leadership and sterling example of sportsmanship.  Lucky I have back up.  My vice skip, Monica, will have to take over for month of January.  Hope she is willing.  I have the only female dominated team.  The other teams of men are scared shitless of us which is good.  But I wish I was mobile.  Crying on the inside as I said.”
“Sir, let me tell you about your injury…stop horsing around.”
“Can Gabriela wash her boots in that sink over there?”
“Sir, often our patients do not speak English.”
“Why tell me that?”
“I wish you were one of those patients, Alan.”
“Hey…you are using my first name.  Are we becoming friends?”
“Seems so.  Should I expect a visit from the curling team?”
“Dirk and Shaymus are my leads.  Don’t let the name Dirk scare you…knife! Get it?”
“And?”
“then there is Shaymus…Irish/English stock…knows all the tricks of the toffs over here in Britain.  Would you call yourself a toff?”
“Your leg, Alan, be careful but norm…..”
“Then there is Leslie, our second, who has at times a houseful of stray dogs.  Additional protection if need.  Then Sharon, our spare, who will be helping Marjorie carry me into the rink to watch the games.  Like a royal guest. On a stuffed chair with garlands and flags…and a flagon of mead.”
“Sir, you can leave now.”
“The bill?”
“Total comes to 780 pounds…see the cashier…”
“A thousand dollars.  fine…hope Visa works.”  (I expected a lot higher so was relieved)
“Marjorie, I was scared it would be more…three doctors (all thin and in their prime), one therapist (rugger player), one go at the sound machine, one big non  returnable boot, two socks, four cups of coffee (two Late), and then Tristran the nurse with all the tattoos who helped me off and on with the boot.”
“Oh, by the way, Alan, be sure and leave the boot on in bed at night…you are the kind of guy
that tosses around…could worsen things…wear it at all times.”
“How do you know I toss around?”
“Anybody that talks as much as you probably has vivid dreams of race horses and such.  Wear the boot.:
“Like a goddamn cement block already.”
“Wear the boot, Alan, stop being amusing.”
“ Not amusing, did you miss the word goddamn.”
“Let me shake your hand, Alan, you can go now.”
“Is that the whole staff of the Haringey Private Hospital out on the front lawn?”
“Yes…all there to see you off, Alan.  We cherish our customers.  But in your case they are out there as an expression of relief that you and your entourage are leaving.”
“Do you ever have royal visits?”
“Occasionally.”
“Does the old girl have horse manure on her boots.”
“Alan, I am not at freedom to say…”
alan skeoch
Dec. 2017
Some of you readers, are serious types.  You may think I drank both these pints and many others.  Truth is I have only had one pint which washed down a fine roast beef dinner in the village of Shire  where Gabriela keeps two of her horses   That was two days ago. I now measure time by B.B. and A.B.  Something like BC and AD.   BB – Before Boot And AB – After Boot.
This is a test to see how many of you actually read this far.  I will ask what BB means.  Some of you just look at pictures.  If you only knew how much time I put into the stories you might be more charitable.  All those who do not pass test for BB will be dropped from my email list.  They will probably be relieved.
What?  Forget that idea…lift me up.”  Sat in a showroom chair until they found Kevin who was
some distance away in another showroom.  From there we managed to get back to London…about four hours.  I figured leg would get better.  Not so.  Next day Gab found a private hospital…i.e. not part of English health care.  Diagnosis was later confirmed as torn Achilles tendon.  So now
I have this goddamn boot to wear for six weeks (or longer…yuck!).  Going nowhere so will
occupy my time with stories.  Some slightly exaggerated.  I like the make stories better than they really were.  Just a personal character flaw.
Private health care was great by the way.  Doctor took me right away then an orthopaedic socialist, whups, I mean specialist arrived, hardly a socialist if private health care…then a rugger player came with this huge boot which feels like a cement
block on my left leg…then sent me to a sound machine which must be some kind of X ray thing which confirmed everything.  “Tear is serious…but not completely severed…hence the boot.”
“Feels like a cement block, how does that help?  Are you trying to rip the tendon completely? Sadists.”
“No.  Your tendon will be allowed to mesh.”
“Did you say mesh or mash?”
“Best to be quiet, sir.   Did you have a head injury as well?”
“No, I hit first with my head…drove glasses into my eyelash. Lucky.”
“Lucky?”
“Head is like a block of wood…dense…useless…”
“Sir, would you be serious.  Who are all these people with you?”
“Well, first off…the woman with the horse manure on her boots is Gabriela.  She found this place.  She  spends a lots of time mucking out horse stalls.  Loves the smell of ‘horse manure in the morning’ if I might use a slightly changed quote from the movie Apocalypse Now. The other woman carrying my clothes and holding the money is my wife Marjorie who
you do not want to cross.  She is my bodyguard.  The guy in the black outfit is our son Kevin
who just got off a Spanish show horse yesterday.  A war horse, sir. He is a rider (as long as the more is tethered
and runs in circles.).  And finally there is Morgan, one of our Grandkids who acts as aid de camp to Marjorie and therefore is a person to be treated with caution.”
“Patients do not come here often with a private army.”
“Do I have to pay for everyone?”
“Best we concentrate on the leg, sir.  You will be out of combat for the next six weeks.
The boot is better than a leg cast.”
“And the price?  We are just country folk as you can tell by the road apple stuff on Gabriela’s boots.”
“Price is the same, sir…Three of us are doctors.  You are getting the best care
possible.  No waiting…an orthopaedic specislist, a radiologist, a GP.  We will do all
this in just a couple of hours.  Glad you are so cheerful.”
Crying on the inside, doctor.’
“Why?”
“I am the skip of a very important Canadian curling team. Depend on my firm leadership and sterling example of sportsmanship.  Lucky I have back up.  My vice skip,
Monica, will have to take over for month of January.  Hope she is willing.  I have the only
female dominated team.  The other teams of men are scared shitless of us which is good.  But I wish
I was mobile.  Crying on the inside as I said.”
“Sir, let me tell you about your injury…stop horsing around.”
“Can Gabriela wash her boots in that sink over there?”
“Sir, often our patients do not speak English.”
“Why tell me that?”
“I wish you were one of those patients, Alan.”
“Hey…you are using my first name.  Are we becoming friends?”
“Seems so.  Should I expect a visit from the curling team?”
“Dirk and Shaymus are my leads.  Don’t let the name Dirk scare you…knife! Get it?”
“And?”
“then there is Shaymus…Irish/English stock…knows all the tricks of the toffs over here in
Britain.  Would you call yourself a toff?”
“Your leg, Alan, be careful but norm…..”
“Then there is Leslie, our second, who has at times a houseful of stray dogs.  Additional
protection if need.  Then Sharon, our spare, who will be helping Marjorie carry me into
the rink to watch the games.  Like a royal guest. On a stuffed chair with garlands and flags…and a flagon of mead.”
“Sir, you can leave now.”
“The bill?”
“Total comes to 780 pounds…see the cashier…”
“A thousand dollars.  fine…hope Visa works.”  (I expected a lot higher so was relieved)
“Marjorie, I was scared it would be more…three doctors (all thin and in their prime), one therapist (rugger player), one go at the sound machine, one big non  returnable boot, two socks, four cups of coffee (two Late), and then Tristran the nurse with all the tattoos who helped me off and on with the boot.”
“Oh, by the way, Alan, be sure and leave the boot on in bed at night…you are the kind of guy
that tosses around…could worsen things…wear it at all times.”
“How do you know I toss around?”
“Anybody that talks as much as you probably has vivid dreams of race horses and such.  Wear the boot.:
“Like a goddamn cement block already.”
“Wear the boot, Alan, stop being amusing.”
“  Not amusing, did you miss the word goddamn.”
“Let me shake your hand, Alan, you can go now.”
“Is that the whole staff of the Haringey Private Hospital out on the front lawn?”
“Yes…all there to see you off, Alan.  We cherish our customers.  But in your case they
are out there as an expression of relief that you and your entourage are leaving.”
“Do you ever have royal visits?”
“Occasionally.”
“Does the old girl have horse manure on her boots.”
“Alan, I am not at freedom to say…”
alan skeoch
Dec. 2017

 

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