Low life
A little bit of leisure
Jeffrey Bernard
Well, I did end up spending Christ- mas in the Middlesex Hospital after all. I was in a bed wedged between an ex-colonel in the paratroops suffering from circulatory troubles and cirrhosis, and an ancient labourer who kept mumbling that he de- voutly wished that Mrs Thatcher and her gang would 'choke on their bleedin' Christ- mas puddin". I had forgotten just how much people are 'into' Christmas. The nurses who made a point of not offering me a drink on the day itself adored it as did the visitors at their bedside parties and all the patients except for the colonel and myself — two miserable bastards. I sneaked the colonel a glass of dry sherry that had been left over on Sister's desk and drank 25 cups of tea myself. A respiratory consultant carved the turkey and two nurses took it in turns to dress up as Father Christmas and nearly died giggling. We all got a present from the hospital. Mine was talcum pow- der and soap which was all right after some cold sweats. They let me out on Boxing Day and told me that the time had come where I could no longer depend on my amazing powers of recovery.
But why is the Government ruining this excellent hospital, one of the best in England? The casualty department has closed down and the consultants have been scattered to the winds no longer having their own wards so that all is a little disjointed. It seems that Mrs Thatcher's attitude to the sick is now as it is to the poor. It's one thing for people like me with self-inflicted illnesses, but it's going to be awful for the unfortunates who can't help themselves in Mrs Thatcher's book. The Health Service is crumbling rapidly. Is Christian Science about to make a come- back? I hope not. Having been brought up as one for a while was bad enough, but just having read an extraordinary essay on the business by Mark Twain, 'Christian Sci- ence and the Book of Mrs Eddy', it seems even madder. A religion for the rich this one, so I suppose Mrs Thatcher approves.
And, speaking of being rich, I am on the verge of being so by my own small-thinking standards. Since I have been back at home I have been bombarded by the credit-card people with written offers to lend me anything between £300 and £5,000. Am I mad enough to steam in for a loan, I wonder, before Gaddafi drops the bomb or the pancreas packs up? One final, carefree, mad holiday and splurge in the sun. It's tempting. But there's a sinister note in their offer. They say that I can use the loan for almost anything including home im- provements, home appliances, stereo sys- tems, sports and leisure equipment and weddings. And what are these synonyms for? Why, wives of course. I was once married to a mono system and I think I'm old enough to handle a stereo one now. As a matter of fact I spoke to her yesterday listened to her that is — and the needle is still in the same groove. But it is the wedding that tempts me most, especially if the bride is sports and leisure equipment. I love weddings. Hope is such a wonderful feeling although I've always gone to the registrar's desk knowing I'd have to foot the bill for the lunch and then pretend I'd changed and settled down for a fortnight or so. The trouble is that out of four wives I've twice thought I'd married a piece of sports and leisure equipment only to dis- cover that I'd married a home improve- ment. In fact after the honeymoons were over I went two months without any conversation because they were busy mak- ing curtains.
Another nasty home improvement I once came across was the business of not having a drink until the sun was over the yardarm — she was a skipper's daughter. If I had had enough time there would have been a way round that. I heard an amazing case of a man who was confronted by the very same problem when he first got married to his awful well-wisher. (They do mean well, you see.) He lived in Kenya and when she first mentioned the nonsense about the angle of the sun and drinking he promptly planted a whole row of poplars in front of the house. Thanks to the climate they grew pretty quickly to cast their shadows but I don't think I could wait that long. I suppose if you married a domineer- ing midget you could just plant dandelions or something. We shall see. With L5,000 in my bin I'm bound to get a little bit of leisure equipment.
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