Post 173: A Windy Bus Trip for Mrs & Mr Unremarkable
The day arrived, and the plans were made — what could go wrong? Absolutely nothing.
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When all’s said and done, I’ve been tired. Apart from that, the Sena seems to have got my bowels moving — weirdly slow and sticky, not at all what I’m used to — but I’m comfortable, so I shouldn’t complain. The pulsing pains are all gone, and the extra morphine hasn’t been needed — how about that? Perhaps the gabapentin boost was larger than I needed, but I’m not about to complain, because day by day I feel more normal and healthy in myself.
A walk outside is now something I want to do, rather than something I tell myself I can’t.
So I sorted myself out without waking my Darling this morning, so I could get up to town and join that queue at the doctor’s surgery — my left arm ready for a dose of flu vaccine. 10:35 a.m. was the schedule, but would it be like yesterday’s nightmare wait?
The sun was shining, but Storm Amy had changed things dramatically. There was a strong, cool wind and the chance of more rain, like last night. I was hesitant to park on the same side of town where I’d got stuck in traffic mayhem yesterday, so I tried the other side instead — and walk myself confidently around town, now that I’ve found my feet. Lo and behold! I found a sneaky town-centre, two-hour parking space off the high street (impossibly hard to get, normally) and slammed the car in quickly before it melted away — as if it were part of some dream I was having.
I was early for the jab, but I thought, what the heck — they might let me in early. Yes, absolute hypocrisy from me, as that’s what caused the big queues for the Covid jab yesterday — sorry! I’m not in any way perfect.
I was directed to other doors at the GP’s building and walked into an almost empty space. The waiting room had one person sitting and a volunteer guiding me straight to my jab. I walked down the corridor, met my usual blood-test nurse — who greeted me joyfully — and after a quick check on the computer and a small scratch on my good shoulder, I was all done. Gone in a flash.
I couldn’t wait to ring Mrs U and tell her we were all set to go on our day out, I’m done and coming home soon.
Getting home at 10 a.m. was such a pleasure — my 10:35 appointment now not an issue — and that was all thanks to the amazing efficiency of the team at the surgery. Great job.
My Darling knew that today was more about me than her, but she liked the thought of us finally doing something together, away from home — which has turned into a bit of a rescue centre for an old boy. But I was happy to drive and was rearing to go.
She said, right out of the blue as I was getting a bigger coat — something warm and dry for the day, just in case there was a shower of rain in that strong wind — “shall we go on the bus?”
“Errrm… yes, we can,” I replied. “I’ll check the times and see.”
The bus app showed one every half hour, and we could get the 10:30 and still reach our destination in plenty of time for the midday event. I pressed a few buttons and got the electronic tickets for a double day rover, feeling pleased with myself — we were now bus-trippers for the day.
The busy Saturday bus filled and emptied with every stop; the bumpy ride was just about all my back could take, but all the way I held onto that warm little hand and chatted lightly about this and that, in a relaxed, happy way. You’ve got to enjoy all the day — not just a bit of it — and I was enjoying being off the leash of recovery for a while.
The destination, at the plumb-centre of the county town, was our stop, and we headed off the bus into the windy streets toward the ancient brewery by the river. The sun was lovely, and it wasn’t as cold as I’d thought — the wind pushed us along the pedestrian high street with Saturday shoppers and market stallholders wrapped up against the gusts. There were dogs and musicians, kids and gulls — a cacophony of movement and colour and noise — as we went on our way to find the brewery yard, where the “dancing in” was to be performed. Not long now — then I could tick off an empty box, something I’ve wanted to do for years.
We weren’t the only ones there. The street had a sneaky cut-through to the yard and all the historical pageantry, but that’s when we found the queue leading towards us through the big iron factory gates — hundreds of people had flooded into the yard. Wow! Just look at that.
After a while in the queue, we squeezed through the gates and, rather than queue again for a free Old Ale, chose to get closer to the Morris men and women — all dressed up with hankies, sticks, and bells — performing a celebration for the first barrels of this award-winning ale, ready for sale in this long-awaited annual October festival.
We stood and watched — dancers of all ages, dressed so fine — creating the atmosphere of a traditional party, celebrating such a simple thing in such a lovely, timeless way. I was loving it. The sun, the wind in the trees, and the throng of happy faces all around us, with kids dancing along in the crowd — it was an infectiously joyful time.
I had time to get a free beer too — one of my most favourite ales ever — I didn’t need to think twice. A third of a pint of this amber ambrosia was a refreshing and delicious moment.
My Darling loved the traditional music and dance, but after the event finished and the crowds lingered, we strolled back down the town for something warm to eat and drink — to heat my Darling’s unusually cold hands.
We were chattering away on a wet bench that got a short splash while we were in the café queue, wondering if we should head home already. I’d got my tick in the box, but I was mindful we should stay fit and not overstay in the wind and catch a cold. After a bit of thought, though, she mentioned walking along to our secret garden — the one we’d been to before and loved so much.
I dropped the rubbish from our coffee and very tasty cheese-and-onion slice in a bin as we turned down another windy street toward the Grange Gardens. The leaves now gathered in the gutters, and I knew the secret garden would feel so different with summer gone.
And as it happened, as we walked through the small gap in the huge walls surrounding the tranquil gardens, the same sign for ice cream as last time was there — encouraging us (me especially) into that quiet green space.
Quiet? Well, blow me gently! At the far side of the more open area of lawns, by the very old, well-built municipal records office, there was a wedding party in all its glory — out in the sunshine, lining up for photos. Ah! What a scene. Just lovely.
They weren’t going to stop us doing the one thing I’d become obsessed with since walking past that sign — so we snuck to the door in the garden wall and ordered one mint for her and a blackcurrant double scoop for me, and sat slightly out of the way on a sunny bench, watching the photographer trying to round up the wedding party for the big group shots.
We watched the guests go on their way to the next part of their itinerary, leaving the beautiful bride, her groom, and the photographer to take a few more sensitive shots in our secret garden.
We wandered and reminisced, holding hands, while the calmer winds moved the grasses and seed heads along the paths — contrasting with the fiercer movement of the larger trees and palms above the walls. Such a lovely space.
We found a free bench to sit on and cuddle up for a while, and we rang the folks back in Eire for a little catch-up. It was so much fun to chat — the time just flew. It’s good to talk when there’s only good to report. We’d avoided everyone last week, obviously, but this week was a good one — and we could share the good vibes.
We headed home easily and quickly and, after a warming meal, settled into a TV-lounge evening and an early bed.
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Another boring, simple day — but it was the best day out in ages, and I got a free beer too. Thank you to the brewery, the workers, and tradition.
A rest day Sunday, but we have a guest bringing a usual gift. More about that tomorrow — another empty box I could be putting a tick in.
I hope your day was happy and calm.
See you all tomorrow.
