Friday, February 10, 2012

Not Heaven itself upon the past has power

I managed to fall down the steps the other day - yet another bit  of proof that I am not safe to be let out without a nurse, or at least a carer. It was dark, of course, and I was having my usual wander with one of the boys and we were traversing a set of steps that come from the direction of the health care toward the wing. I thought I was standing on the bottom step, so I stopped and started to blow my nose - then stepped off. I wasn't on the bottom step. I was two steps up and when I stepped off, I stepped off into fresh air. Nary a thing to rest a weary foot on.

Needless to say I went down like a sack of taters. I managed to get my hands out to protect my face and they hit the ground first. They were closely followed by my knees - wonderful. There was a terrific 'clump', of course, and I felt sure that I had broken something. I got up, but apart from a bit of skin off the palms of my hands, I was fine. Of course the nitwit I was with thought the whole thing was hilarious - such a kind, empathetic type. He was enormously entertained, as we carried on our walk, and he told everyone we met. It's nice to bring a bit of jocularity into someone's life, just a little bit painful.

Went to see the nurse the next day, and the outcome is that next Friday I am off into Boston to the Pilgrim Hospital to have my knees x-rayed. It will be a couple of hours out of the prison for me and I will be able to go under my own steam.

It hasn't stopped me from being outside in all weathers, of course, sore knees or no sore knees. I often stand there and watch the birds. There are lots of them around this place - linnets, blackbirds, sparrows, robins and so on. I also find that they are not as scared of people as they generally are, they practically hop around your feet. I think some folk may find me a little strange when they see me staring at ostensibly nothing, but, in the words of William Henry Davies:

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
I quite like my days now that I am retired and have the freedom to practically do as I please (within reason) because it brings the words of another writer - Dryden - to mind:
Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He who can call today his own:
He who, secure within, can say,
Tomorrow, do thy worst, for I have lived today.
That certainly strikes a chord in me. Okay, I would have much preferred that things had taken a different course, one that didn't include years in jail, but, as Dryden also said:
Not Heaven itself upon the past has power;
But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.
Well, once I have had my day out at the Pilgrim Hospital, I can then begin to have fairly regular days out. I know that The Wallace is supporting me in that so that is okay. I have spoken to a number of people here and there and they expect me to be gone by Christmas - back to the land of the living.

There is little prospect of me actually going very far today, though, on account of the snow that has fallen overnight - the last thing I need is another nosedive into oblivion!  

The Voice In The Wilderness

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