Friday, September 12, 2003
Doctor's blog
Stardate 11.09.03
*****
And suddenly time has passed. A week of evenings and nights in A&E, followed by four whole days of blissful sleep and dinners-out in good old grey old London, and suddenly it's time to get back on that train for Colchester.
What a shame.
Cocktails tonight on an empty stomache whilst everyone around me lit up.
I guess You and I weren't that different hey; miles apart in different worlds. Perhaps someone should have done a twin concordence study on us. Of course I could never admit to You that I don't drink, no, not really. I mean, I can - and that bottle of bacardi anecdote, you were so ready to take that out of context it left me stunned into silence. But no, and I don't smoke either. Just for the record.
People I didn't know, and did know, and noises - so many noises tonight. One of them I knew, babbling incessantly on her telephone whilst showing off her new, sparkly high-heeled shoes to me. Noise.
Escape, and quiet. I don't mind those. There's a lot of things I wouldn't mind.
I wouldn't mind living far from the Madding crowd, on a beach. With the sunset over the sea as my verandah. And a deckchair, maybe even two? Seagulls, and a sea breeze.
I wouldn't mind working in a big city, I wouldn't mind an hours drive to the city, as long as I had my quiet village-home to retire to. Not a suburb, I would mind that - too ordinary. But somewhere in between. Who says dream houses have to be based on reality?
I wouldn't mind company, but it would have to be a noiseless, quiet company. Not a silent morose companionship, but true company. Easy-going words spoken intuitively, effortlessly, punctuating the quiet bliss. And laughter. And a mutual appreciation of the warmth and quiet splendour of a fading sunset.
I wouldn't mind growing old like that, and dying.
And then again, I wouldn't mind growing old, and dying alone. As long as I had my peace and quiet after the rush of the daily routine at work, in a big city hospital somewhere. As long as I had my sunsets reflected over the sea to share with the seagulls, and to stare at and wonder at my life gone by.
Have any of you ever thought about death? I have. I'm sure at some point all of us have. Idly. I thought about life, and death once, sitting with my legs dangling over a cliff several hundred feet up, watching seagulls floating dreamily back up over the ledge with their wings lazily outstretched. How easy it would have been, just to lean forwards that little bit more into oblivion. How quiet and maybe even peaceful everything would have been after.
I would never have done it of course, and neither, I suspect, would any of you.
That's why we're still all alive, if not sane.
Stardate 11.09.03
*****
And suddenly time has passed. A week of evenings and nights in A&E, followed by four whole days of blissful sleep and dinners-out in good old grey old London, and suddenly it's time to get back on that train for Colchester.
What a shame.
Cocktails tonight on an empty stomache whilst everyone around me lit up.
I guess You and I weren't that different hey; miles apart in different worlds. Perhaps someone should have done a twin concordence study on us. Of course I could never admit to You that I don't drink, no, not really. I mean, I can - and that bottle of bacardi anecdote, you were so ready to take that out of context it left me stunned into silence. But no, and I don't smoke either. Just for the record.
People I didn't know, and did know, and noises - so many noises tonight. One of them I knew, babbling incessantly on her telephone whilst showing off her new, sparkly high-heeled shoes to me. Noise.
Escape, and quiet. I don't mind those. There's a lot of things I wouldn't mind.
I wouldn't mind living far from the Madding crowd, on a beach. With the sunset over the sea as my verandah. And a deckchair, maybe even two? Seagulls, and a sea breeze.
I wouldn't mind working in a big city, I wouldn't mind an hours drive to the city, as long as I had my quiet village-home to retire to. Not a suburb, I would mind that - too ordinary. But somewhere in between. Who says dream houses have to be based on reality?
I wouldn't mind company, but it would have to be a noiseless, quiet company. Not a silent morose companionship, but true company. Easy-going words spoken intuitively, effortlessly, punctuating the quiet bliss. And laughter. And a mutual appreciation of the warmth and quiet splendour of a fading sunset.
I wouldn't mind growing old like that, and dying.
And then again, I wouldn't mind growing old, and dying alone. As long as I had my peace and quiet after the rush of the daily routine at work, in a big city hospital somewhere. As long as I had my sunsets reflected over the sea to share with the seagulls, and to stare at and wonder at my life gone by.
Have any of you ever thought about death? I have. I'm sure at some point all of us have. Idly. I thought about life, and death once, sitting with my legs dangling over a cliff several hundred feet up, watching seagulls floating dreamily back up over the ledge with their wings lazily outstretched. How easy it would have been, just to lean forwards that little bit more into oblivion. How quiet and maybe even peaceful everything would have been after.
I would never have done it of course, and neither, I suspect, would any of you.
That's why we're still all alive, if not sane.
