Getting Plastered

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Have you ever had an accident at work?’ so the advertisement goes. Well The Husband certainly has. He only slipped off the third rung from the bottom of the ladder so you’d imagine a slightly twisted ankle perhaps. Not a bit of it, we Pagans do things with panache! The Husband happened to be carrying a bucket of some off-shoot of the petro-chemical industry- roofing resin- which he managed to tip over his head, torso and into his eyes.

On arrival at A&E I was met by a lovely nurse,”Oooh! I’ve just spent an hour in the shower with your husband”. The things that are available on the NHS these days!
With eyesight intact mercifully, all that was left to do was deal with the sprained ankle that turned out to be ……a broken heel.

Before we knew where we were The Husband was knee-deep in blue plaster and cheerily informed that he would stay that way, elevated and non-load bearing, for six weeks.

Back at Chez Pagan it’s fair to say The Husband adapted very well, managing the stairs and the bath. I honed my best nursing skills- the administration of pills various, fry-ups and a continuous flow of tea- and embarked on a course of major Cognitive Thought Therapy. He wanted to cancel the holiday, the summer, life; but I was determined that we would press on as normal, or in some form of normality.

Star I’s birthday loomed and we had booked a family ticket for the Goodwood Festival of Speed.
“Well we’ll have to cancel or you all go. I’ll just stay here”, (cue hang dog look).

I was having none of it. So there we were in an enormous car park straining to see the whereabouts of the mobility scooter we had hired for the day. We were in car park S and apparently needed to be in car park A in order to pick up said buggy. Fortunately the happy marshals at Goodwood were on it and in no time at all we were in an air conditioned Range Rover being whisked over some distance through the Sussex parkland. Car park A as it turned out was clearly not viable with crutches.
A quick course, or crash course: “Basically if a member of the public walks into you it’s their fault, but if you hit them they can sue. Okay? Have a great day!” The optimistic mobility man waved us off.

Now The Husband is an active chap and getting plastered has been somewhat of a wakeup call. What would it be like to be unable to get about, to rely on a mobility scooter?
It soon became apparent that people just don’t see you and if they do then you normally get a ‘tut’ or two as, naturally, you’re in their way. And at Goodwood you can certainly hear the cars on the track but no one will move momentarily to let you have a peep.

I felt The Husband was in need of a pint and a pulled pork bap. How right I was! Once revived he got the knack of driving the buggy and no matter how dense the gathered crowds he was in the thick of it, mercifully the horn was not working properly. Is there such a thing as road rage on a mobility scooter?

Anyway, such was the success of the day that The Husband is eagerly awaiting our return next year!
Later I was chatting to a lovely friend whose husband is a super-car enthusiast and owns one or two examples as well as a Porsche and an Aston Martin.
“Oh yes, we were there on Sunday too! We were lucky and had Aston Martin parking – a sort of corporate thing with a Champagne breakfast and tickets for the stand. How about you where were you parked?”

I took a deep breath, there really was no way to make what I was about to say glamorous or exciting…

I smiled and said with some aplomb,“Shop Mobility actually”.

Better luck next year.

Sandra Pagan

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