Yesterday John and I went for our medicals for the insurance company dealing with the collision. John was escorted by Clive his support worker from Wirral Autistic Society and was sitting in the back of the car rocking gently, waiting for me to arrive. John that is not Clive.
There was only one thing on his mind and it had nothing to do with whiplash.
He jumped out of the car and bounced about like Tigger letting everyone within a ten mile radius know that it was just ‘3 seeps Abersoch, Johnelmo yessss, ok, yahoooo’
Me on the other hand, having been in A&E for most of the previous evening and having had less than four hours sleep looked and felt like hell.
My right shoulder is higher than my left and my neck is stuck at an angle, I staggered into the solicitors office like Richard the third. Tigger bounced behind me shouting random things about his forthcoming holiday.
‘Mast! Oi Oi IG’ followed by ‘fishcake and ships’ and finally ‘Gwim sep head’
John was talking about getting a treat of fish cake and chips from the chippy, and then driving 1000ft up into the hills above Caernarfon to the enormous communication mast that also stands 1000ft. All this looking up is going to be painful.
It is so remote up there we only ever have sheep and huge black crows for company. It is always shrouded in cloud even on sunny days and we never see another soul.
Unless that is Gwillam the Shepherd shows up, smiling through cracked and peeling wind blistered lips and revealing his single, yellow tooth.
He has masses of wild grey hair and a fascinating skin disease. I think he looks forward to us turning up but its hard to tell. He usually greets us with ‘aargwrythryddd eh!” and a phlegmy grunt.
I try to look pleased to see him, John just points and says ‘ Gwim sep head, teeth’ and then falls about laughing. Gwillam usually joins in which is a little disturbing given that he only has one tooth holding back all that gurgly stuff threatening to erupt from his throat. I try to look away when Gwillam laughs.
3 sleeps, I can hardly wait.
Once inside the room set aside for medicals, John tried out all the chairs in true Goldilocks fashion, finally settling on the doctors chair. ‘Who’s sitting in my chair, isnt it?’ said a very welsh Dr Jones.
John still in holiday mode replied ‘Derek’
‘Sooo Derek is it then?’ asked Jones the medic.
‘Nooo its John’ snapped Richard the third ‘Derek is the man who swings the bridge in Caernarfon’
Jones the medic raised his eyebrows and turned to Clive the support worker ‘ Derek you sit over there’ pointing to the naughty chair in the corner.
‘ Clive’ said Clive trying to correct Jones the medic. ‘Huw’ replied Jones holding out one hand to shake Dereks and pointing to the naughty chair again with the other. Thankfully Clive did as he was told, deciding to err on the side of caution as Jones the medic appeared to be a few bedpans short of a picnic or whatever the phrase is.
Once Dr Jones had got everyones names sorted and sat on the correct chairs he felt able to start the medical. It was never ever going to work, I knew that, Clive knew that, but Jones the medic was being paid handsomely for his opinion and he was going to assess John if it was the last thing he did.
‘How are you John?’ he asked. John ignored him, looked at me , mimed holding a phone to his ear and said ‘phone please mum’ indicating that he wanted my iphone to listen to some music. I gave him the phone, and told him that the doctor was talking to him. John looked intently at Dr Jones. The doctor tried again ‘How are you John?’ John stuck his tongue out and said ‘Bridge’
Jones the medic turned to me and said did he just say ‘Bitch?’
What!! ‘No he said bridge,’ I explained that he is fixated on his holiday and cant think about anything.
He tried again ‘Where does it hurt Johnny boyo’
“Caernarfon’ replied Johnny boyo.
A muffled titter could be heard coming from Derek in the naughty corner.