Night out

I’ve got a few ideas rolling around in my head this morning that I haven’t quite got straightened into a logical mode, so if today’s thoughts seem a bit random then bear with me.

Pancake day and I have our two year old sitting on my knee eating Nutella pancake in the kitchen. An unexpected phone call, inviting me to a surprise ‘do’ in celebration of an ex colleague who is still working in the same place after 30 years. I’m a little taken aback, but agree to go.

I volunteer to chauffeur, it’s still lent and I offer my services to two neighbours who I know have also had the same invite, unfortunately one has to decline on the day as he has developed a cough, it wouldn’t look good if an retired GP infected the present practice with potential Coronavirus. A shame though as he is a major player.

The venue is a little unexpected, it’s outside. I’ve not chosen my outfit well. I’ve a heavy coat, that under the infra red heaters is too hot, ( and fuels my own power surges) and a dress that’s a bit flimsy for the night air. There is lots of fizz and canapés but I go to the bar for a Diet Coke and slowly watch the alcohol take hold.

I was once very much apart of this gang, but of course the dynamics have moved on. I spent a big part of my working life as a Practice nurse and have many stories to tell.

But tonight I am greeted with sympathetic looks and comments about my present situation which I try to swiftly volley, to talk about more interesting subjects and ‘the virus’. Here an off duty surgery, in the thick of it all, but as far as I could see taking a pragmatic and sensible view, following the government guidelines and adapting to changes.

Town is suspiciously eerie, we seem to be the only ones out, no problems parking anyway. I joke that charity shops will do well from the situation, everyone in self isolation is clearing out their drawers.

It’s always interesting wearing the halo of sobriety, and I have some lovely catch ups, which might well be forgotten by others. I’m looked up and down by a couple of people who have filled my boots, it seems my name is still referred to at times by the long-lasters.

There are congratulations, toasts to those who are no longer with us, and funny recaps of the thirty years of our principal lady. There have been so many changes so much water under the bridge.

Some people don’t engage, at least until I’m leaving. Maybe I should have made more effort. But I feel a sense of sadness. They don’t have a clue about my world, with the exception of one. She reads my blog, and the highlight of my night is when she tells me that it has changed her nursing practice. I invite her to share.

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