Night shift.

The time was ten o'clock in the evening. It was my first night shift as a hospital porter I was just over seventeen years of age. My colleague a man named Stan had been working at the hospital for a number of years, for him it was routine work. The night was wet and windy not a very good night to be out and about.

The first call was for an oxygen bottle to be taken to ward six. I shouldered the oxygen bottle; it was quite heavy and hurried along to the ward and connected the breathing apparatus to the bottle adjusting the flow of oxygen for the patient. Going back to the porter's room I made myself a cup of tea and was half way though drinking it when the phone rang. Stan answered it and then said to me, "There is a dead body to be taken to the Mortuary." "Finish your tea there is no hurry," I slowly drank the warm sweet tea and was loathe to leave the warmth of the porter's room.

Stan took the keys to the mortuary from their peg and we went out into the cold wet blustery night. The mortuary was well apart from the main hospital buildings. The building itself was a small four-roomed oblong. As Stan opened the door the first thing that caught my eye was a slab of marble with a dead body lying on it covered with a mauve coloured cloth. Embroidered on the cloth was a large golden cross. On one side of the slab was a trolley with a metal lid. This trolley Stan pulled out to the door and off we went to ward ten where the dead patient lay.

We were greeted quietly by the ward sister and led to the bed which was surrounded by white screens here the body was waiting to be taken to the Mortuary. Stan told me to take the feet, while he took the head and shoulders. With one quick lift the body was on the trolley and we covered it with the metal lid. Luckily for us the ward was on the ground floor that meant no tricky stairs to be negotiated.

We then pushed the trolley back to the mortuary. Stan told me to open the back room where another slab was waiting. " This one is for a post mortem he has not been in the hospital more than forty eight hours and it is standard procedure to hold a post mortem." Stan took the head and shoulders and I took the feet with some trepidation; one quick lift we heaved the body onto the slab. "We will have to undress him," said Stan. You come to the top and lift him so that I can take the pyjamas off of him. I went to the top of the slab and lifted the body up from the waist as I did this there came a deep moaning noise from the body.

I dropped it on the slab and ran out of the mortuary, I did not stop running until I was back in the porter's room, I had never run so fast before in my life and certainly not since. Stan came in a little while later and asked me what was wrong. I told him that the body must still be alive as it moaned so loudly. Stan laughed and said, "That was only the air in his lungs, by lifting it you forced the air back up into the diaphragm and that caused the moaning noise. It took quite a while before Stan could convince me to go back to the mortuary and repeat the procedure. The moan came again but this time I was prepared and with a sigh of relief I went back with Stan who smiled a big smile to the warmth of the porter's room. A nice hot cup of tea soon put me right and the rest of the night passed quietly and I was pleased when the shift ended.

Feed back please.

A ride in a Police car.

Way back in time when my whole world was rosy and I had no problems to solve, I visited the seashore on the east coast of England Europe. The days were sunny and warm the continual movement of the sea water was a fascinating spectacle to my childish eyes. Boats slowly rose and fell in the swell and the anchor chains were one minute taught, the next slack as if they had nothing to do but enjoy the warm sunny weather. Sea Gulls flew overhead with a slow gliding motions skipping over the sea playing with the foam on the crest of the waves.
Like many of the other children I had a bucket and spade and a many-coloured ball to play with. I did not make friends easily and spent most of my time digging holes in the wet sand and watch them slowly fill with sea water. Like most children of my age I was a day-dreamer and soon got tired of playing with the wet sand.
I wandered off along the sea shore happy and content to be on my own. There were many things to see such as sea-weed and small crabs, pieces of tarred wood and sea-shells washed in by the tides. All kinds of flotsam and jettison lined the sea shore, a paradise for a young lad of nine.
I have forgotten to mention that it was war time and we had been warned not to touch or throw stones at sea mines. These were ugly large round ball like objects with short metal rods sticking out of them. Something like a conker before it falls from the conker tree. What we had not been warned about or if we had been warned I had forgotten was that all boxes were suspect that had been washed ashore. 
Half buried in the sand was a large oblong box. I immediately thought of a Pirates treasure chest. I hurried to the box and managed with a piece of wood open it. Inside were rifles. A ship had been sunk and this was part of the cargo. I was now very excited and ran back to the town Police Station where I hurriedly managed to explain to the Police Sergeant on duty what I had found.
The Sergeant was tall very calm man that took me by the hand and led me out to a waiting Police car. With the car bell ringing, He drove us back along the coast road to where I had found the box of rifles. We walked across the wet sand to the box. The Police Sergeant placed a red flag into the sand. This was to warn people to keep away and then we drove back to the Police station and he sent a couple of other Policemen to go and bring the box of rifles back to the Police Station.
What an exciting day it had turned out to be. Finding the rifles, Riding in a Police car and to top it all my name was mentioned in the newspapers as having reported this strange find.

Feed Back please.

Swimming Lesson

The summer months were here again; school holidays had begun. Warm weeks of sunshine brightening up the days of the school summer holidays. It was the time where we had to find our own entertainment. Fortunately for our little clique of boys there was the local river called the Ely it was in this river that I first learned how to swim not of my own free will though
The river Ely was a small slow flowing stream really and it was used to feed the paper mills at Cardiff. To be able to swim we first had to dam up the river this we did by cutting turf out of the fields and with the help of the bigger stones in the river we built our dam. It took about a week until we had a thick wall built and the water of the river started to fill our pond. It was surprising how well the dam held it was wide enough to walk on and even dive into the river or should I now say our pool.
We were a small clique of evacuees that had been sent down to South Wales to avoid the bombing that was going full scale at that time. The small village where we lived was called Tonyrefail which is Welsh and means, "The Sound Of The Anvil." The village was built around a blacksmith's forge. Houses and streets gradually being added over the years until it became a large village. A colliery gave work to the men of the village and quite a few of the women went to work at the ammunition factory at Bridge End.
Our pool was full of water and we took off our clothes and jumped into the water naked as we were. That is all of the boys except me I could not swim. I sat with my feet in the pool and watched the other boys who were enjoying the swim immensely. About an hour later they had had enough and climbed out of the pool and as boys are started to fool about on the pool's edge they pushed each other into the water and had great fun.
My brother who was part of the clique suddenly pushed me into the pool. I went down to the bottom of the pool and started to panic. I moved my arms and legs and somehow was on the top of the pond. I kept moving my arms and legs and managed to reach the bank. After resting for a while I let myself slowly into the pool again and pushed off make swimming movements with my arms and legs and I managed to swim across to the other side. I had now lost my fear of water and was able to swim with the other boys in our clique.
I was now very proud of myself and went to the pool nearly every day to have a swim. I have to thank my brother for pushing me into the pool and running off with the other boys that I was able to swim. Three weeks after we had built our pool men were sent out from Cardiff to break the dams it seems that many boys in the other villages on the way to Cardiff had the same idea and also built dams so that by the time the water reach the paper mills there was not enough to run the factory efficiently. Needless to say we rebuilt them again and many times through the summer months it was a battle between the boys and the men to see who could use the water.
 

New Birth.

Wet leaves on a slippery road the autumn was well advanced as I carefully steered my old car along the mountain road. I could not see too well as the windscreen fogged up at regular intervals. I had a rag with me and wiped the inside of the screen every few hundred yards. The heating in the car had given up the ghost a long time ago and I was not in a position to buy a new car or have the heating repaired. I was on my way to fetch the vet as one of my cows was soon to calve and as it was her first birth I thought it prudent to have an expert to see that all went well.

      The village slowly came into sight the typical mountain village for that part of the country. The weather was awful not a night to be out in a mountainous district. Reaching the village I stopped the car at the vet’s house and rang his door bell. A cheerful faced woman answered the door and asked me in to the hallway. I was offered a glass of schnapps which I refused the roads were in no condition to drive under the influence of alcohol. The vet a tall heavily built man came into the hall and greeted me. I soon explained the situation to him and he got his heavy coat and well stocked medical bag; saying goodbye to the women of the house we went out into the wet cold night to my car.

      I carefully drove back up the mountain road now having to wipe the moisture on the windscreen at more frequent intervals. After an hour driving through the wet dark night we arrived at my farm. My wife had in the meantime made a drink of hot chocolate to warm us as we were both very cold, my old car was not fit for winter driving but it was better than driving in my open tractor, it was also quicker. Warming ourselves by the kitchen fire we drank our hot chocolate. Then we went out into the cow-stall to see how the young cow was getting on.

       As we entered the cow stall we were met with low moos from the other cows it was as if they knew what was about to happen and were calming the young cow down. The vet ran an experienced hand over the belly of the cow and asked me to fetch hot water soap and a towel. I did not take long and the young cow started to moan and her belly heaved as she tried to push the calf down though the birth canal. By this time the vet had stripped down to his vest and was washing his hands and arms with the hot water and soap. He dried his hands and arms and went to the cow. I had often seen and helped a cow to calve but had never attended a first time birth before.

      The vet carefully pushed his hand into the cow’s vagina and reached in until his arm had disappeared into the cow’s birth canal. He felt around for a while and said,” There is nothing to worry about the calf is in the normal position and the cord is not going to hamper the birth in any way. ”Then the miracle of birth slowly unfolded before my eyes. First the front feet then the head and body followed and lastly the back legs. As a Farmer birth should not be anything special one might think but I do not think that there is a farmer in the world that does not marvel about a newcomer being born.

      The calf lay there on the straw covered ground and I wiped her dry with some old sacking and fresh straw. The cow soon recovered from the birth and looked anxiously at the calf and it was not long before she licked it dry. The vet had listened to the calf’s heartbeat and said that she was in good condition; yes it was a female which pleased me as I was just building my herd of cows up into a fairly good herd.

Making sure that calf and cow were alright we went back into the house where the vet washed his hands and arms again. My wife had in the meantime got a bite to eat ready and we sat down and ate and drank a few hot cups of tea.

      I took the vet back to his home in the village the weather was still awful and my wiper blades could hardly keep the screen clear. We eventually arrived at the vet’s house where I thanked him again and got back into the car. The journey home was not so awful now I had a new calf the mother cow was alright and I thought of my warm bed that was waiting for me. Somehow the thought of the warm bed made me realise how tired I was it had been a long day and I was ready for my bed.

Feedback please.

Make Believe.
Mine was a world of make believe. A Psychiatrist would have said I was compensating for the strict, harsh treatment of the homes. The Orphanage was run by the Kent County Council at Chatham in Kent. It was a silent life where speaking was only allowed either at school or when we had finished our work (Each child had one or more chores to perform.) Scrubbing floors, Polishing floors, dusting the rooms and stairs, preparing the vegetables for the midday meal. Making the breakfast tea, buttering the bread and so on. It was a never ending routine the Foster Mother was there to see that discipline was kept and that we were clean and tidy when we left the house for school. Saturday morning after the housework was finished we were allowed out to play.

The routine was up at seven, go down to the washroom to wash and clean one's teeth. Back upstairs dress and make our beds. The mattresses were straw sacks, Very difficult to make a bed with all the counterpanes folded in line one with the other. The beds had to be in a straight line. Nightshirts were folded and like the beds placed in such a way that when looking down the line of beds all were conform. As soon as the beds were made and the dormitory cleaned, that is to say swept and dusted, If necessary the floor was polished with Ronuk a polish that was easy to spread but very difficult to polish into a shiny floor.

The boys responsible were making breakfast, bread and butter and jam or marmalade. In winter Porridge was cooked and served. The table was laid with cutlery, cups saucers and plates. When all was ready and each boy had again washed his hands we stood each boy behind his chair and Grace was said, "Lord for what we are about to receive make us truly thankful, amen. The meal was eaten in strict silence when all had finished we got up from our seats and said the prayer for after a meal. Then the preparation for school the shoes had been cleaned the previous evening by the boy who was responsible. No joke when it was raining the shoes had to shine and wet shoes just will not shine. You might ask why all the fuss just to go to school. Well before school there was a Matron's inspection Two hundred boys and about a hundred girls formed into columns of two and marched down to the road alongside the Matron's office.

The Foster Mothers had to come with us it was more like a military parade than a children's inspection. The Matron in her stiff starched uniform walked down the lines of waiting children and god help the child that was not up to her standards of cleanliness. If one was lucky a misdemeanour meant a quick box to the ears. If the child was unfortunate to have run foul of the Foster Mother beforehand he or she was punished again at midday after school. Punishment was either a smack around the head or a beating with the back of a hairbrush across ones bare buttocks. I myself I have been pushed into a bath of cold water and my head held under until I thought I was going to drown. Also any child that used language not suitable for the homes had his or her mouth scrubbed with carbolic soap applied with a toothbrush.
Another punishment was to lock a child in the gas cupboard under the stairs. I was locked in at midday and only let out the following morning to get ready for school. No meal during the punishment of course. This life made me retire into a shell that no one was allowed to penetrate.

I daydreamed first while I was locked in the gas cupboard under the stairs. My world was full of fantasies I saw and spoke with all kinds of people all were kind and played with me. I was able to be anyone that I wanted to be; I eat in my imagination all kinds of wonderful puddings and ice cream sweets and all of the good things that most of the children craved for in the homes. Pocket money was one penny per week it was enough to buy a few sweets, which we ate as soon as we bought them. I still have this knack of being able to live in my own world. A world of make believe true but there is nothing to disturb my peace of mind.
Feedback Please.

Holiday Time.

            The first holiday that I remember was when I was six years old. Life in the Orphanage was not at all rosy. Work was done by the Children, discipline was very strict the only time we really had a break was when we were at school or the few precious hours of freedom when we were let out into the grounds to play.

            I overheard one of the bigger boys telling another lad that Ma; “The Foster Mother.” had ordered the large wicker baskets from the stores. These baskets were to hold our clothing and other things for a fourteen days holiday at the beach. I could not believe my ears when I heard this, fourteen days at the sea-side. It would be heaven.  Saturday came at last and four of the bigger boys were told to go to the stores and get the baskets. The whole of the following week was spent fetching summer clothing from the large airing cupboards on the landing between the two Dormitories.

            I did not realize it then but the Ma’s had a large responsibility not only looking after us kids but on times like this getting everything ready some of the boys had grown and needed new clothing this had to be ordered from the stores and marked with out name and number with indelible ink. All clothing had a tag with the name and number from the boy wearing it stitched onto the garment usually the neck or back of the trousers on the inside of the garment.

                 When all was finished and Ma’s list had been checked off.  The wicker baskets were closed and fastened with two metal pins. I had helped to carry some of the play things down from the storing cupboards a few small coloured buckets and some small spades, two or three brightly coloured balls. The boys were now in a state of great excitement. Fourteen day away from the Homes, this promised to be a wonderful change from the strict routine of the Orphanage.

            On the Monday morning we got up at our usual time and made the beds, washed ourselves and had breakfast. Ma then told us that there would be coaches or as she said in the old days Charabancs coming to fetch us at nine o’clock.  We all had to use the lavatories before the coaches came then we were to board the coach and take a seat in a mannerly order. If any boy did not obey there was the infirmary for fourteen days instead of a trip to the sea-side. We knew that Ma was serious about this and each boy was on his best behaviour.

            Punctual at nine o’clock the coaches arrived and stopped one coach for two cottages. The boys from cottage one and two boarded their coach then three and four and finally our turn came I was in number six cottage. Five and six cottage shared a coach. That meant that there were two Ma’s or foster mother to a coach. I thought that we would have to behave ourselves now two Ma’s one was bad enough. When the Ma’s had finished counting us for the third time and both were satisfied that all of the boys were on board they each took a seat next to each other and the coach from fifteen and sixteen cottage pulled of with a full blast of its horn. This was the signal for the other coaches and we too then pulled away from Number six cottage and the boys gave a loud cheer.

            As we pulled out from the gates of the orphanage some of the older boys started singing. I cannot give you the melody but the words went.

      There is a mouldy place down Chatham way.

      Where you have to scrub the floors three times a day.

      Eggs and bacon you never see bread and scrapes for your tea.

      There is a mouldy place down Chatham way.

            I was amazed the Ma’s did not object to the singing and more songs were sung, some very detrimental to the Homes. It was quite an experience this coach trip. I watched the country-side rolling past my young eyes and got excited when I saw horses and cows and sheep in the pastures. Then the Orchards with fruit trees as far as one could see. The narrow Kentish lanes were like travelling though a cathedral with trees meeting overhead forming the roof. I was for once in my life a very happy little boy and wished that this journey would last forever. Ma’ Smith came down the coach and gave every boy a sweet. It was a Barley Sugar sweet that was supposed to stop anyone being travel sick.

Either the sweets were very effective or we were healthy young boys that did not get sick on a coach.

            We came to the marsh lands at New Romney and one of the bigger boys said that we were very near to our destination. Earlier we had stopped for a break and Ma told us to go and relieve ourselves. That is we went behind some bushes to perform the natural call of nature. Ma’ then gave each boy a corned beef sandwich. Two thick slices of bread and butter and on the inside a thick wedge of corned beef. I loved corned beef then and still do some sixty odd years later. We boarded the coach again and soon arrived at our destination. The Saint Margaret’s Bay Holiday Camp.

            The coached pulled in to the camp reception and we were told by Ma’ not to wander away but stay in a tight group. No-one would have thought of disobeying Ma’s orders and we stayed put all the Girls and Boys from the Orphanage and waited until we were given new orders. A pleasant looking man appeared and welcomed us .He told us that we were to have a jolly good time at the camp. We were to eat all that we could manage and second helpings were to be had for the asking. Then we were shown to our camp hut it was a long low roofed wooden hut similar to the army huts that were put up all over Great Britain during the war. On each side of the hut were wooden frames with a mattress on them and sheets and blankets and a pillow to each bed. This was a big adventure sleeping nearly on the floor. At the front of the hut was a normal bed with a locker and a rail with a curtain this was for the Foster Mother. There was one each side of the door as one entered the hut. All of the huts were joined by wooden corridors so that even if it rained the children would not get wet going or coming from the dining room.

            After we had made our beds and changed our clothes into the khaki coloured summer shirts and trousers Ma formed us up in a column and each boy holding the hand of the boy next to him we walked down to the dining room. This was for my eyes a huge place; tables and chairs were arranged in neat rows. We were shown our table and sat down at Ma’s command. Then the Gentleman that had met us on reception came and spoke into a microphone. “Girls and Boys I want you all to enjoy your stay here at this holiday camp. The food will be brought to you at the tables and if you are still hungry just ask for some more .There is plenty to eat here and we want you all to have a happy stay.” He then asked us to stand and said a prayer. Then the doors to the kitchen opened and in came some ladies and quickly served us a slap up meal. Sausages eggs and bacon and baked beans with thick slices of bread and butter Jam and to top it all a large piece of Angel Cake. Large cups of tea finished off the meal. No one asked for more we were all full of those goodies that we had been given.

            After tea we went back to the hut and Ma told us that we could go off and explore the camp but that we were all to be back by eight o’clock. Off we went it was a large area of ground and by following our noses we came to the pig sties. The pig sties were long rows of pig pens, each pen held about twelve pigs. The pigs were of different races some were pink others black and pink and they made many sounds.   Oinks, grunts, squeals it was pandemonium. We boys copied the pigs and soon grunts and squeaks oinks were sounding everywhere. We all went back to our huts and were in bed by eight o’clock. The last thing that I heard that day was a bugler playing lights out.

            The following morning the same bugler played reveille and we got up and went to the wash room and got ourselves ready for breakfast. Holding hands we again walked to the dining room, sitting down to our table we said the prayer for our meal and soon the same ladies were bringing the food to the table. The dining room was very large and the ladies had their work cut out to serve every child with food. The camp held over two thousand children most of them were from orphanages or similar institutions. Most of us asked for second helpings especially the sausages and bacon were a big hit with the children mainly because we never had them in the Homes.

             After breakfast we went back to our shed and got ready for the beach. The buckets and spades and the coloured balls were distributed among the children and hand in hand off we went to the beach. Walking in our hand in hand column we walked out of the main gate of the camp and turned left walking along the seashore. It was the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen. The tide was on the way out leaving little pools of sea water along the beach. Ma told us to take our shoes and socks off and we were to walk barefooted in the sand. This was an extra delight first the sand tickled my sensitive feet then I got used to it and scraped the sand into little piles as I walked. Soon we had come to a spot that the Ma’s thought to be suitable and we were told to take our shirts and trousers off then we were dispersed and soon there were boys all over the beach playing with the buckets and spades building sand castles .The bigger boys wandered off looking for shells and other things that one finds along a beach.

            The two Ma’s had a deck chair each and were busy talking to each other, we had all been warned not to do anything stupid or there would be trouble. We knew that the Ma’s did not forget a thing and each of us was on his best behaviour. I made sand castles for a while then I asked Ma if I could paddle in the sea. She said, “Yes and off I went.” We must have looked a strange lot with our underpants playing along the beach but the Homes did not provide swimming costumes and our Khaki shorts and shirts had to last the two weeks. I wandered along the shore paddling in the warm water. It was lovely and I got carried away with the feelings of peace that had come over me. I could hear the children’s voices in the distance but I was in one big beautiful dream.

            The next thing that I remembered was hands pulling me out of the water. I had been so engrossed with the wonderful experience that I had lost all feeling for time and the tide had come in. The warm water was soothing and was up over my chest. I could not swim and if one of the boys had not seen me I would have drowned. They pulled me out of the warm water and rubbed me down with a towel. Then two of the big boys took me back to the shed or should I say dormitory. I was told to undress and get into bed. I thought that I was now in big trouble and accepted the fact that I had done wrong and would probably get no dinner. Putting me to bed was bad enough. I had given the Ma’s a big shock and was expecting some kind of punishment. What do you know one of the boys brought me my dinner and I asked him if the Ma was upset or angry? He said,” I don’t think so.” So I ate my dinner and waited for the Ma’s to come back to the dormitory. When they returned Ma asked me if I was alright and I said yes I was alright. Ma looked very relieved and told me that for the rest of our stay I was to stay near her or in the evening one of the bigger boys was told to look after me. Nothing more was said about the incident and the rest of the holidays were a happy experience for me and the other boys and girls.

Weird Dreams.

Lately I am bothered with weird dreams. I wake from a dream and am covered in sweat. My bedclothes are soaked and it means me getting up in the early hours of the morning to have a shower change my clothes and go down stairs to make myself a cup of tea. I have tried remaking my bed and going back to bed but it is no use I dream this weird dream and wake up again with my pulse racing covered again in sweat. I have tried not eating anything after five o’clock in the evening. I have also tried milk drinks such as Horlicks, Ovalmaltine and just plain milk before going to bed. The sleeping tablets the Doctor gave me made matters worse. I would drop off to sleep and then wake up in panic. I have now got to the point where I sleep a lot during the day especially when watching the television. My old wheelbarrow in the garden with its two soft cushions is often in use. In fact I am now a night man I sleep as much during the day as I can and stay up most of the night. I sleep a little in my easy chair and wake before the dream gets under way.

Some people have told me to go for a long walk before going to bed. Others that I should really count sheep while yet others tell me to read a boring book that will also send me off to sleep without my dreaming. I have tried all kinds of methods, none seem to help the dream is always with me. What is this dream I can hear you ask?  That is the trouble I do not know. I just wake and have no recollection of what I have dreamt. I have been recommended for a sleeping test and treatment at our local hospital. I packed an overnight case with my toilet articles and some fresh pyjamas and made my way to the hospital. Here a friendly nurse who showed me to a room welcomed me. The bed was a normal hospital bed with a white bedside locker. On the wall was a panel with switches and cables running from it to another room or so I was told. The doctor came and once again I told him of my weird dreams and my waking up covered in sweat and a racing heart with panic attacks. The doctor then explained that I would be connected to the various wires that measure the impulses in my brain. This pattern would give him some idea as to why I dreamed such bad dreams. I had been previously checked to make sure that I was otherwise in good health and that not some organ or other in my body was causing the nightly distress.

A nurse came into the room, greeted me very friendly and asked if she could now connect me to the machines. Taking the wires she connected them to a kind of mask that she had placed on my head. After I was fully connected she told me to relax and try to sleep. She turned the main light out as she went out of the door. The only thing connecting me to the world outside of the room were the cables and a small camera that could be moved into any position and a night-light. This camera was to show the doctor making the study as to the position that I was laying in when the electric impulses from the cables connected to my head made the markings forming a graph. This graph could be read by anyone that had studied the subject. I do not know how long I slept then it was there again the dream. I awoke with my pulse racing my body covered in sweat. Blinking my eyes I could not for a few seconds place where I was. I started to panic again. Two nurses came into the room one had a sweet melodious voice and told me to relax there is nothing for me to worry about. “Breath in deeply Mr.Shaw,” she said. I took a few deep breaths and relaxed. The other nurse gave me a fresh set of pyjamas and remade the bed. The equipment was once again reconnected and I was told to relax and try to drop off into a sleep. I could not relax and to drop off into a sleep and have this weird dream again no I could not face that again not twice in one night.

Morning came and after a breakfast the room was cleaned and the morning visitation by a group of doctors and nurses started. “Good morning Mr.Shaw, how are you this morning. I see that you did not sleep very well and had to wake up in the night.” “Can you describe what gave you such a panic attack” Here is where I could not tell the doctors why I had, had such a panic attack. I do not know I have no recollections what ever of what my dream was about. The doctors put their heads together and I heard one of them say “ A psychiatrist perhaps another said perhaps Hypnotism? Then I was told that I would be taken to a hypnotiser he would try to unblock my brain from whatever was disturbing my sleep. Later I was taken by a nurse in a wheelchair down to a pleasant room where a soft inviting couch was waiting for me. Nurse told me to make myself comfortable in a chair and the doctor would be with me in a minute.

The Doctor a large man with a very pleasant voice asked me how he could be of help. I told him of my trouble with sleeping and my weird dreams of which I had no memory. Somewhere in the room I cannot tell where it is coming from I can hear water as if a fountain had been turned on then a very soft music that seemed to run with the music of the fountain lulled me into a state of a calm relaxation. I knew who I was, I knew where I was and I knew that the voice soft and coming from far away was going to help me. I heard the voice telling me that I was now fully awake but I heard only this voice. I was only to listen to this voice. Nothing else was to bother me I was only to listen to this soft soothing voice. From a distance I heard the voice saying, “Tell me about your dreams. You have nothing to fear. I am with you. I heard a voice speaking this time it was my own voice. I am trapped in a world of obstacles it is maize made up of metal bars that run from ceiling to floor, from wall to wall. I cannot make any headway crossing the room no matter how hard I try. I fight the barrier with my bare hands, it is no use, and no matter how hard I try I cannot get through the barrier. “Why must you get through the barrier? The gentle voice asked. “Do you not see the baby that is waiting for me to get to it to feed it and clothe it and to rock it gently in my arms,” Do you not see it?” “I see it said the soothing voice, you do not have to get to the baby any more. I will take it with me and tend to it as if it was my own.” I felt such a release at hearing these words that I opened my eyes. Close your eyes said the gentle voice I must tell you something else. If you are ever in such a barrier again you will take an acetylene torch and burn your way through the metal. Softly the voice said, “I will now count to three and on the word three you will wake up and remember everything that has happened. One! Two! Three!” I opened my eyes and felt as if I had gone through a cleansing fire. I felt really good. The Doctor then told me that it was my wish to have children that was causing my weird dreams and that I could not talk about the dreams was the fact that as it was my secret that I wanted children. I could tell no one else about it.

The Way.

I have been following the way for a long, long, time. It is a very difficult path and there is no knowing when or where it will end. Many have got lost and many have turned back, only those with stamina and courage will ever reach the end of the way.

I started my journey on the way the very day I was born. I did not ask to be placed on this path. I, like many others found myself going along the way, with all of its difficulties all of its pitfalls. True sometimes there was a bright light that turned one of my daily journeys into an adventure but mainly it is the daily grind the daily routine that has caused so many stumbling blocks that wait to ensnare all who follow the path. I have no advice to give any that follow the way; each must find his or her way to the bitter end. Sometimes there is a breath of hope on the far horizon that gives one the much-needed strength to remain true to the way. No flags are flying, no bands play music to cheer me on; I am alone as I always have been. I learned this lesson very early in my young life and have remained true to my vocation of following this somewhat dismal, somewhat well trodden way that was planned out for me long before my birth. I sometimes meet others following the way; Time to stop, to ask questions there is not. One must go forward, ever forward. If you meet me on my lonely journey do stop and speak, most rush by without giving me a look, it hurts. I have spent many years now on the way and soon I am sure it will end. Will all my dreams that I have had on the way come true? Will I become one with a happy will to laugh? Will I be able to communicate and tell you all a big thank you for glancing my way as I trod that dreary path? I certainly hope so for then I will know that my journey was not in vain. There is and was a purpose behind the long years I feel but what? Do not try to answer my questions for me just make sure that you too walk the path as well as I have tried to do, That is all I ask. Bernard Shaw.

The Church.

The Church was empty as it usually is at this time of day. Midday’s I walk in, go to the place where I always sit and bow my head in prayer. Nothing unusual you might say many people do the same in all kinds of different churches. I at this time of the day am always alone there is no preacher to be seen, none of the ladies that clean the Church and arrange the flowers, no one. Today for some unknown reason I had this strange feeling of expectancy. Something was different. I could not place it but the atmosphere was not as it usually is. The smell of candles and incense lingered in the air as they always do. The pews are tidy with bibles and prayer books waiting for the visitor to take in his or her hand. For the first time I really looked around the church. The stained windows with their religious pictures looked as they always do. The altar with its candles waiting to be set alight, everything seemed as always. I sat in my pew and listened to the silence. There is no silence like in an empty Church; it is a silence that one can feel. The Cross-with Jesus looked as awful to my eyes as it always did. I prefer the small room at the side of the church where the children go to Sunday school, in this room there are happy pictures all is colourful nothing to frighten a child. In the Church the Stations of the Cross give me a feeling of despair. I do not like the Church but as I have the feeling that I should go to Church to pray and thank the Lord for all his blessings. I was taken by surprise in the middle of my prayers it happened.

A peal of trumpets sounded. Looking up from my prayers I expected to hear the Church Organ playing some music, but no, another peal of trumpets and then in front of the alter I saw a picture that I will never forget. A gentle looking man with the most compassionate of eyes sitting on the ground and children, hundreds of children were gathered around him. The man was smiling and one could see that all of the children were happy. Sitting in the pew I looked with amazement at the picture that I was being shown. Above the Alter winged beings sang and the song they were singing was, “Let the little children come unto me.” I have never seen such a picture with so much clearness. I was actually there in the picture although I was sitting in a pew half way down the Aisle. The man with the gently smiling eyes raised his hand and said to me, “Come! You too are one of my children.” Rising from my seat in the pew I floated towards the children and took my place amongst them. My head was full of wonderful thoughts. I was seeing and feeling for the first time an utter peace. The peace enveloped me like a shielding cloak. The picture faded and the priest who had come into the Church awakened me. “What are you doing sitting with your head on the side of the Alter? I mumbled something and walked back to my pew. I have never had such a vision before but whenever I am in Church this most wonderful picture of Jesus with all of the children comes to me in full force.

I spoke to a priest later and told him what I had seen. “You must have been hallucinating” was his reply. I thought to myself that what I have seen while fully conscious couldn’t be a hallucination. I still go to the Church and say my prayers but sadly I have never seen such a picture again. The faces of the little children were smiling, each was happy and strange to say when I joined the children, I too was extremely happy. My wish is for all to have some similar event happen to them and that they will talk about it and show that there are many things in this world that cannot be explained.

A Dream.

The warm sun shining high in the sky made me feel sleepy, so sleepy that I punched up the two cushions in my wheelbarrow and laid myself down for a light nap. Closing my eyes I could still see the sunlight it came through my eyelids like two round balls of light. The balls of light suddenly took on a life of their own and started turning, round and round they went both spinning in perfect time. Spinning and turning, then the light came in flashes. I found myself falling, falling ever deeper, until I reached a state where I did not know any more whether I was falling or floating. Then I felt myself rising, rising higher and higher. Was there to be no stop to this experience? I have no idea of how long I was in the state of falling or even floating and the rising, rising ever higher seemed to be forever. Then it all stopped and I floated around something that I could not see, my eyes are still tightly closed.

The voices I heard next, soft voices, brimming over with kindness, each welcoming me. I heard the voice of my Mother she crooned to me as she did when I was a small child I distinctly heard her singing a lullaby that I had not heard since I was a babe in arms. Who am I? What am I doing in this place and what is more where am I? Questions buzzed around in my head. With eyes still tightly shut I listened to other voices that I instantly recognised. My Father, My Grandmother, My Grandfather, other voices mixed in, voices I had heard all those years ago when I was a baby. The questions poured back into my head, this time questions that I was half afraid to ask. Am I dead? Is this heaven? Is this Hell? Then all time seemed to stop and I heard a silence that was so deep that it was frightening. Nothing moved, I all alone here in some place that was not of my choice. Who had brought me here? I am not frightened just curious the silence mocked me. I could not think any more. Deadly silence. “Open your eyes,” The voice is gentle there is no harm in such a voice and I slowly opened my eyes. The brightness of the sun’s light was now replaced with a soft bluish lighting that was restful to the eyes and I might also say to the soul.

The soft gentle voice spoke again, “You have so many questions in your head, relax and I will explain to you what has happened.” Your family here have such a longing to see you that they overstepped a certain barrier.” “It is not time for you to be here and I must return you to your wheelbarrow. It is only fair that after you travelling all this way you shall see your departed loved ones.” Then it was as if a curtain had been taken away from my eyes. I saw all of the familiar faces; my family had wanted me so much that I too had broken a barrier; it is not time for me to be with them. I have a gentle wife waiting for me in my home I must go back. Music filled the air soft delicate music that was soothing to the ears the light turned from bluish back into a bright light and I saw for the last time all of the waiting faces. My eyes spun once again and the floating turned into a rushing fall that was frightening then once again I awoke in my wheelbarrow. I have never told anyone about this my experience as many would say I have been hallucinating, that is seeing things that are not there.

I will leave it up to you to make what you will of this story; did I go to Heaven for a few seconds of eternity? What was the meaning of seeing and hearing all of my family and friend’s faces and voices? I do not know, perhaps I died for an instant but it was not time for me to stay, I had to come back. Who’s voice spoke to me telling me that it was all a mistake? Is it just another mystery to keep we frail humans on our toes? A testing perhaps before we finally pass over that barrier called death.

The Lift.

The dream is very strange indeed, the lift I entered to get to the top of the skyscraper said that it is a fast lift with first stop at the roof. I was alone in the lift and thought to myself, what a pity that no one else is using the lift. It must cost a small fortune to travel to the top of the skyscraper. I must admit that I was a little startled at the speed that the lift is going. I had pushed the top left button that was marked roof and away the lift moved. I had for a moment the feeling that my stomach is going to rebel, fortunately I was not sick but I must admit I was a little frightened.

I noticed a small panel to one side of the lift and saw that as we passed each floor the numbers changed. I stopped looking at the panel as it said twenty-first floor. I decided to sit on the floor of the lift and wait until the doors opened. I will admit that although I had often used lifts before but never one in a skyscraper. On and on, up and up it is a never-ending journey. At last the lift has stopped and I get up from the floor and go to the doors of the lift. The doors swing open and I expect to be on the roof of a skyscraper somewhere in America.

There is no floor just clouds, can you imagine taking the first step on to a bank of cloud. I am not a coward but for me to step on to the cloud was nearly impossible. Then from somewhere I heard a voice saying, ”You can do it, take one step forward.” The voice was so calm and in a way so sure that I could not resist and stepped forward onto a cloud. I sank in to my ankles and took the first hesitating step. Another voice this time louder and somewhat familiar said, “Passport.” Now this is strange I thought to myself why should I want a Passport to be on a roof. This is getting to be very ridiculous then I saw a man whose face was very familiar. It was the face and voice of one of my schoolteachers. We had never seen eye to eye on anything and I was often in trouble for doing something that I should not have been doing.

“Where is your Passport”? This time the voice sounded angry, as angry as I had often heard it as young schoolboy. Quickly I looked in my coat pocket. No Passport. Now the haze that had surrounded the man lifted I saw that a huge gateway. The man whose face reminded on my Teacher of so long ago was very evidently the gatekeeper. “Without a Passport you cannot enter the heavenly domains.” “I have no Passport and do not want to enter the heavenly domains it is to soon for me,” I heard myself saying in a weak whining sort of voice. “Then what are you doing here and why did you use the heavenly lift?” “I used the lift of the skyscraper to get to the roof of the building.

A Gentle voice now said, “He has come a long way I will grant him permission to enter the Gates for one heavenly hour then he will be back in the lift on the way down to the entrance of the hotel, Let him in.” As I passed through the gates I saw the face of the man that had demanded my Passport. It was definitely my old school teacher. He had come a long way to be the gatekeeper of the Heavenly gates. Hundreds of familiar faces soon surrounded me. Friends that I had not seen for years all were welcoming me, I saw my parents and two of my Sisters that I had not seen since they parted this life Here on earth. Then without warning I was back in the lift that sped me on my way back to a life that I knew would be very dreary after seeing all of my friends and relations again.

How long I was in behind those gates I do not know but the first thing that I saw as Î left the lift was a newspaper with today’s date on it. I had been two whole weeks away and no one had missed me. I was not ill with alcohol consume, I was definitely not hallucinating and it was not an ordinary dream I have lived through this experience and am now a very happy man that is waiting for the lift that will take me to my relations and friends. I know that I must have patience. My time will come and I too will be happy to be with that heavenly throng.

Christmas Tree.

Two more weeks and it will be the twenty-fifth of December another Christmas day in my long life. Like most people I decided to get a Christmas tree to decorate. This year though things will be different though. I am going to buy a tree that is still growing not one that has been cut down. Going along to my garden suppliers I spoke to the owner and asked him if he had such a tree. “Come with me Mr.Shaw I will show you the small plantation where I grow my Christmas trees.” I walked with him to the back of the large premises and then saw the Christmas trees. Row after row of small to medium size Christmas trees were growing in a large area of cleared land. “These are the trees ready for sale, those with a red label are already sold you may choose any of the others.” I walked along the rows of trees until I came to one that was just the right size not to small and not too big. “This is the tree that I would like to buy,” I said. The owner quickly wrote my name and address on a red label and tied it to the tree.  “When do you want us to deliver the tree?” he then asked. “Would tomorrow be alright?” I heard myself saying.  “Tomorrow will be fine came the answer. We went back into the gardening centre and I paid for my new Christmas tree.

The following day just after ten in the morning; the gardening centre van stopped in front of my house. Two men carried the tree into my winter garden and after I gave them a small monetary tip both said “Good Morning and a very Happy Christmas to you.” I now had my Christmas tree in a large wooden tub and after Christmas was over I would plant it in my back garden and watch it grow. Going into town I went to the green grocer’s and bought all kinds of different nuts. Walnuts, Brazil nuts, and many others the names of which I have forgotten, my next stop was at the butchers, from the butcher I wanted some fat. At the newsagents I bought myself some balls of string then I went back home.

My next move was to decorate my Christmas tree. None of your glass baubles or tinsel for my new tree this tree would be just for the birds that frequent my garden summer and winter. Taking a large needle I threaded string through the nuts that I had previously taken out of their shells and hung them on the tree. Nuts and strips of fat soon covered the tree and I sat back in my chair and admired my work. The birds are going to love this Christmas they will have a real treat at my Christmas tree.

In the back garden I had dug out a hole big enough to take the roots of the tree. In the hole I had placed four large shovels full of rotting compost and the compost I covered with a layer of fresh earth. The hole I had covered with a couple of planks of wood and a small tarpaulin I did not want any frost to get into the hole.

My winter garden is a large glass room and a fairly warm place to sit in. The many plants and flowers delight my eyes whenever I have time to sit in my easy chair and watch them. I sat for quite while looking at the new Christmas tree. Suddenly the top of the tree looked as if someone had placed a blue light on it. The bluish light soon had bathed the whole tree in its eerie glow; I sat watching the tree and the blue glow for a very long time. The tree was still glowing when I went into the kitchen to make my evening meal. Before I went to bed I looked in at the Christmas tree, yet once again the blue light was still there. Christmas day came and I carefully took my tree into the back garden. It was one big struggle to get the tree to where I had dug and prepared my hole. I manage to get the tree in the ground and covered the roots with fresh earth. The eerie glow was still all around the tree a pale blue light. Walking back a few steps I watched as one sparrow flew to the tree and started pecking the fat that I had hung on the tree. Soon many other birds came to the tree and the many hungry birds ate the nuts and the fat. The blue colour stayed with the tree until the spring came in. One morning as I went into the garden to do some work I saw that the Christmas tree was now a lush green and it is still growing.

Where the blue light came from and why it stayed with the tree until the spring I do not know but I like to think that the blue light was a sign for the hungry birds to come and eat their fill. What do you think?

My private Journey.

A fine sunny day in July, I was strolling through the deep green grass with its flowers peeping out at me, such as daisies, rich clover and the swift growing dandelions. Grass under my feet stood up proud and tall as I placed one foot before the other. Looking back I could see no tracks, just the lush grass swaying gently to the ever-changing patterns of the soft breezes that continually swept over the growing fields of hay. The sun shone gently down as if it too had, had enough of the burning heat. Then I saw the small clouds scurrying across the bright blue sky, chasing each other as if life was just one game to be played as long as the sun shone. My mind had long taken over my body and I placed one leg after the other in a mechanical sort of movement. How long I walked in this high state of emotional expectancy I cannot tell you. I was completely immersed in another world. A world of harmony, with peace seeping through every part of my being, accompanied me on my stroll through this environment that each individual seeks as he or she goes through life. From afar a soft never-ending music that reminded me of the movement of the waves on the seashore ran through my consciousness, I was nearly home. Home is the pervading thought going through my head. What is home a far distant thought interrupted my reverie. A soft calming voice is now telling me that home is the destination of all humans. Each has a path to travel along. Some stray from the known path and never reach home. Others try too hard to reach home and overshoot the way, landing in another time and place. My path is the right way, just go along as you are, put all thoughts and doubts out of your mind: listen to the music see the small clouds chasing each other in the heavens high above. One step after the other picking up all that one needs to know on the way. Let your heart do the listening. Now the soft whistling sounds as the birds join in this chorus. It was the bird’s voices that were missing from this music. The squeal of rubber tyres interrupted my reverie. Noise of roaring traffic upset my journey on my way to home. The loud hooting from a car then the final crash. I was now fully awake I had come to a motorway the fencing had stopped my going further. A Lorry and a couple of cars had crashed. More squealing of brakes as other vehicles tried desperately to avoid running into the pile up of lorries and cars on the motorway. Now fully awake I realised that I had come miles and was nowhere near my home, real or imaginary. In the distance I could hear the sirens of the ambulances and the fire engines that had been called to the accident and I turned and made a somewhat weary way home. To my home, my real home where I could sit and drink my sweet cups of tea or just sit and dream like I usually do.

Switching on the radio I listened to the news broadcast. The speaker told of an accident on the motorway. In the accident three people had been killed and ten injured. It was then that the meaning of Home came to me. I had unknowingly followed a path that one day I would walk. This path would lead me to home. I thought about the three people that had been killed in the accident. They were now home.