The Perils of a Geocaching Pensioner - Part 3

I know it's taken a long time for me to get down to part 3 of my "The Perils of a Geocaching Pensioner", but to be honest even after a year I'm still suffering from the aftermath. I've spoken about the accident in Part 1 and in Part 2 I've explained how I exposing my rear end to the general public in Berkeley Hospital. There was nothing for the hospital to do with torn ligament and I had to go home and rest, but how was I to get home wearing nothing more than 2 hospital blankets and a plastic bag full of wet/muddy clothes and shoes.

I had been poked and prodded by all in sundry including the tea lady, Xrayed from top to bottom and after 6 hours I was told to go home, but how? Big Sister was up north caravaning so my next choice was Brother who only lived a few doors away from my home, oh dear no answer from any of his phones. My mobile by now was dead so I couldn't view any saved phone numbers, it was a case of going through the phone book looking for any relatives who might like the pleasure of pick me up.

Finally a nephew's name came in view and he was in, thank god, and soon he made his way to Berkeley to rescue me. On his arrival I was pushed out in a wheelchair and slid into the front seat, still desperately grasping my two blankets, I suppose if I wasn't so overweight I might have look like Gandhi.

Setting off for home the story of my accident was transferred to my Nephew and he reported that my Brother was out and hadn't turned his phone on. Suddenly he screeched to a halt on the main A38 next to where huge flames were dancing above the roadside hedge, now what I hadn't told you was that my Nephew was actually a fireman, and as he went headlong through the hedge I heard him shout, "There might be a house on fire, I'll just check it out?" A few minutes later he reappeared waving his hands around saying how stupid it was to have such a big bonfire in a back garden.

The rest of the journey went ok, no more fires, no cows stuck in a ditches or cats up trees, I do think he likes his job. Arriving home he circled my back courtyard to get the passenger door nearest the bungalow's back door but it was then that all hell broke out. He managed to help me to the back door but unfortunately there was a large step up into the bungalow, within seconds I was just a heap in the yard as my leg gave way and I laid there trying to cover my modesty in the darkness.

He would have needed Sparrows Crane Hire to pick me up so he had to run around a few neighbours for help. How embarrassing as the jungle phones in the village started up and within minutes up to 16 people arrived and deposited me in my armchair. Some were making tea and my home resembled a village hall as various neighbours chatted about how lucky I was. At last someone took pity on me and grabbed some clothes from my bedroom and help me dress, all with a very large audience looking on.

An hour later my Brother and his Wife arrived and the crowd started to disperse making sure they all gave me their wisdom, and in one case a loan of a 4 wheeled walker. Brother and Nephew went off to find my car still parked in an estate in Cam, don't think I will be driving that for a while. On there return they explained that it had been left unlocked, thanks to the ambulance man who went and got my handbag out of the boot, luckily the satnav and other valueables were still in the glove compartment.

The next few days were murder, most of my family visited me in turn, all nagging me about going out in the country on my own, comments like "Your a pensioner you know, take a another hobby." what do they expect me to do, join a knitting club or something - no chance as only 3 months later I was out and about again. Yes I have been left with a very nasty limp on the right leg and have to pick the areas I venture. One thing is certain, many barriers have been broken with my neighours, well they have seen me dressed in just a small hospital blanket.