Memory Lane, Ten Thousand Books, a Taxi and Four Bananas

On the Number 63 Mum entertains me with a chirpy trip down Memory Lane, the snippets slip into the ears of the people behind us too.

...the craft shop used to be on the left but now it's on the right...I used to go to Sainsburys here and catch the bus straight back with my bags...your Dad's Cousin's Wife's family used to own the Pins and Needles shop, look on the right, oh it's closed down now...

Oh look I add when I find a chatter gap, the Gunmakers Arms is boarded up, that's where I tasted my first glass of cider and black; but my comments disappear in the back of the bus, Mum has forgotten to put her hearing aid in!

We meander along the pavements I trod on my way to and from nightclubs...

The Council House

I click my camera as once familiar sights now stop me in my tracks.

Town Hall

Meet the Floosie in the Jacuzzi!

Then the Mecanoo Library shouts it's welcome...

Inside we fly from floor to floor on sky blue escalators, each one sharing it's 1000 books.

Secret gardens lead us to the Memorial Library where grey haired books fill glass covered shelves while Shakespeare looks on bemused.

The Memorial Room has been relocated from the original Library

The  ceiling carvings mingle with the light

Mum gazes in as Shakespeare looks out

Ten floors of a thousand books make our excited legs falter so we treat ourselves to lunch amidst the Symphony Hall musicians next door.

Mums blue eyed gaze drills into mine as she says:

Let's get a Taxi home, you look tired and I am pretty worn out too; but when we get back I must buy more bananas (Mum always buys a couple of bananas for me as I nibble on one to ease the nausea when a seizure creeps in)...

I grin and suggest we go wild and buy four....

Kate and William celebrate their first baby as I celebrate a first too...

I woke today with quivers in my tummy. I pack my rucksack and trundle to the bus stop.

I press the button and the ding tells the driver I want him to stop. I clamber slowly off and stick, hitch foot, stick, hitch foot my way to the crossing.

I grab the hand rail to enter my destination. The swimming pool. 

The flutters are now crashing waves.

I pay my fee and go into the changing rooms. Costume on I walk alone for the first time to the pool.

Hand my ticket to the lifeguard and ask him where Bill is. He points to the third lane. 

I drag my feet towards the lane.

He stops and looks up from the water in the big pool.

Are you Bill?  I'm Dawn... here for my first swimming lesson.

He smiles.

Hole in my Head, Helmet and Hats

I wore one of my summer caps for the first time this year as the hot spring sunshine bounced off my head.  I used to pride myself on never wearing a hat on rambles and mountain climbs, they were for sissies and ruined my hairstyle. But now Hats fill several drawers, are dotted about on kitchen work surfaces and snooze at the bottom of shopping bags; Accessorise (in the 70% sale) has become my shop hot spot, I am an authority on Hats.

Caps and straw hats have the summer covered, I cope with the unpredictable winter temperatures by stocking up on woolly ones of various colours and thickness's.


After my rare brain abscess and minus a piece of skull; medically called - No Bone Flap, but nick named sunroof, my party piece was to get unsuspecting friends to gently rest their hand on the top of my head, then I coughed so they felt my brain rise through the gap (covered with my scalp of course); one look at their faces and I would double up laughing.


The pay back for my jinx was a bespoke designer helmet; it was hate at first sight. But I was told he had to be worn to protect my brain from injury until the hole was re-roofed. 

I disguised him with a hat and would balance him on my head to get in and out of cars but immediately take him off once safely inside. Bus trips were different, I reluctantly kept my promise to Mr H to wear him when I was on my own. I used a head down approach to curious stares until I developed a grin and smirk strategy. I kept my head up and grinned with a cheeky smirk when I met a stare;  I would walk by giggling because the other person either wore the dropped gaze or smirked with me.


Now hats rule because cold bites sharply and the recent sun makes my head hot and sore; I assume my titanium plate, put in to close my 'sunroof', makes my head more sensitive.

My helmet now rests up-side down nestled among the packets of cereals, He is my hiding place for the treats I have been telling you about; sssssshhhhhhh

Grappling for concentration

Yesterday, concentration and focus dangled out of my reach; our tether had snapped...

The 10.45 bus beckons for pilates, I have heaps of time, but as I load the washing machine the door bell plays Fur Elise. The post man hands me a parcel, I cut the tape and spy the contents with delight; but oops, it is not addressed to me so I hastily re-tape the box. I practice my oh my goodness how lovely look...for when Mr H comes home.

The laptop clicks its keys as I pass and I plonk myself down to check my blog, ensconced in my rocking chair I have to check my emails too...

The phone rings, it is Sue, apparently I have agreed to discuss the infection control project I am part of as I will miss the conference call because I prioritised Pilates! Twenty minutes later I grab my bag, lock the door then remember the washing, I just have time...as I step back through the door the tasks I had meant to do jump out at me:
Throw away the dead flowers
Do a bit of ironing
Pot up the green bean seeds

I scribble them on a bit of paper, tomorrows to do list.. hang out the towels, then make snails pace haste to the bus stop.

Leaning on the lamp post I realise I have forgotten my exercise sheets, the bus appears; too late.

As I drop into a window seat I recognise that now I can only juggle one ball. In my days as a Nurse Consultant I could spin plates, several balls and tame tigers all at the same time. My days in the circus are over.

Lists help but I forget to write them, if I write them they are often forgotten, I am easily distracted by anything. I started the filing at home but half of it still waits in the tray, I bought a new address book at Christmas but I have only got to D, the book snoozes patiently on the kitchen table.

...When the bus reaches my destination I have forgotten why I came so early, I make my way to a coffee shop and hope my memory kicks back in...

A good nights sleep and some rest should re-connect concentration and I.

Easy on the buses.......?

To catch my bus requires split second timing, if I leave too soon I lean against the bus stop like a drunk after a night on the booze... leave too late with no chance of breaking into a run and I wave my fist as the bus passes....

When the bus stops I rejoice at the hiss when the step is lowered, ...snarl when the driver doesn't think  ...grimace when faced with two steps on old buses...hoping one heave ho of my leg will do.

All aboard, I spy an empty seat labelled Please leave for the elderly or less abled..and plonk myself down. Relief reigns where embarrassment once hovered. In the early days of my adventures on public transport any poor soul who sat by me and spoke was bombarded with my brain tumour story... flutters of relief crossed their faces when I reached for the bell to get off....

My first outing after surgery was with a carer in tow... a lesson on how to get on and off a bus safely was needed. A little bit of shopping completed we sat at the bus stop and let two buses pass ...after an hour the same bus driver returned. Falteringly we got on.... He had seen us sitting there the first time...me in my helmet (that's another blog..), my carer in uniform... we tittered all the way home. My care plan read...can't read bus timetables needs another outing!! I loved those trips.  

Nowadays I am a seasoned bus traveller and know the timetables off by heart....I choose my seat in order of preference:
A) a front forward facing seat on either side by the window; even if I have to squeeze myself into half a seat I will.....to suprised stares
B) an aisle seat with my right leg in the aisle; even if I have to ask for a bag to be moved, sometimes my hard stares are required
C) Please No...front aisle seat with my left leg in the aisle:

Option C ..is like being on the waltzers at the fair-ground... with no carriage sides; I prepare myself for the white knuckled ride. Buttock muscles on full alert, hands gripping under the seat (no rail in front today). Every corner turned or island rounded.. my left leg grip on the floor is tested....my buttocks squeal, fist clenches. Muttering under my breath. you can do, you can do it, you can do it....the alternative...a helter skelter slide down the bus on my bum...

Near my destination I search for the bell...every bus differs...I let go of my seat...press... re-grip my seat... phew... safe again....

I wait until the bus comes to a complete stop before I move. Meerkat stares from passengers ....steps are extra slow as my left leg sleeps. 

Finally the step challenge rears its head again...this stop is in the road.. no kerb to reduce the height. Tentatively I drop my foot onto the ground pulling my other behind. Aerobic workout complete...now a few minutes walk to Pilates...