“Meet with your approval?”
“Yes! Yes! Take over your old man’s farm. Plant potatoes, veg’tables, market gardening.”
Friends
Last night I was wandering round the grounds and wondering what my friends were doing.
Carol had been at the Pines, dancing and laughing and drinking. She had the flu and was tired, and the tiredness and drink made her lose control and giggle foolishly.
Margaret was working in the ward, gay and strong and sympathetic as always. God bless her and her husband and children. Jenny was struggling in Ward 3, a little flighty and foolish but with a heart of gold, so common here. But struggling.
Nigel was in Ward 4, a little arrogant, distanced a bit from some of us by his manner and accent. Barry was cutting the hedge and being the family man. Andrea was being a good wife and mother — probably!
Kevin was at the cabaret. Ruth was at home.
All of them just passing through. Sad not to have kept a few as friends.
§
Goodbyes
3.12.65: I came on duty today, and discovered in the kitchen:
- One pavlova from Andrea.
- One strawberry sponge from Mrs L.
- Asparagus rolls from Jane.
We ate them, eight of us, Barry, Andrea, Jane, the Commerce student, Nigel, Dr W., the physio and me. Jenny came from Ward 3, and Margaret from Ward 2. Everybody was very nice, and I kept very quiet.
Andrea said she wishes she’d had Judith a little earlier because she’d have liked me for a son in law. Judith likes animals and would therefore like me!
§
Bert of the sad eyes said, “Are you leaving?”
“Yes — I’m going to university next year and I need to swot.”
“Oh…” Pained look on his face.
Me trying to be humorous — “Never mind, Bert, when I’ve gone, you’ll have the chance to get some decent orderlies.”
He started to cry.
§
Mr W. said, “Give me a bath, give me a bath!” He nagged all day.
Finally, I said I would. When I’d finished, I lifted him out into the chair. As I started drying him he began to cry.
“What’s the matter Mr W?”
“This is the last time you’ll give me a bath.”
§
Charlie said, “Are you leaving?”
“That’s right, Charlie.”
“What’re you going to do?”
“Haymaking.”
“Where?”
“Home.”
“That’s right…” he said, “that’s good.”
“Meet with your approval?”
“Yes! Yes! Take over your old man’s farm. Plant potatoes, veg’tables, market gardening.”
“Hey, I’m not staying permanently! I’m going to university.”
“Aah.”
“I’ll miss you, Charlie!”
“Aah, work on a farm.”
“There are other things in the world besides that.”
“Aah, get away with you!”
§
7.12.65
Margaret arrived for afternoon tea at 2.45 to say goodbye. She invited me again to her farm at Foxton, second on the left after the tar seal finishes. Jenny came at three. They left at quarter past, and I started farewelling the patients. Gordon first.
“Gordon!”
Huh?”
“Goodbye.”
“Eh?”
“I’m leaving.”
“What! For good?”
“Yes.”
“Eh?”
“It’s been nice knowing you.”
“Eh?”
“It’s been nice knowing you.”
“Yes”.
It came as a shock to Gill — nobody had told him.
He would miss me “verry maach”.
“Are you going to marry?”
“No.”
“Have you got a — girl?”
“Not to marry.”
“Huh, huh.” Fluttering hands. “Well … goodbye.”
Bert was half asleep by then, but looked after me with dog eyes — feeling left behind by someone who didn’t care so very much after all.
Arnold wasn’t put out.
§
Sister C. was sorry to see me go because I’ve been pleasant to work with. Sister B., the tough young slave driver in Ward 3, was very warm, and we shook hands like conspirators. Sister E. wrinkled her face, said I’ve been like a breath of fresh air around the place and shook my hand. I didn’t get to see the other Sisters.
Barry was waiting outside in his car, and he drove me down to the block. We had a nice conversation. If we can ever do anything… It’s been great… And so on. Then we said cheery-bye. I admire Barry greatly.
§
After saying goodbye to Barry I handed in my linen, stowed the last luggage on the scooter and gave in my key. They’d given me my final wages in advance.
I went and collected the kitten I’d reserved from V-Block when I was ready to leave – five weeks old, black with white boots, blue eyes, exquisitely tiny, and put it into the box I’ve set up on the scooter. Very cosy, but I felt every bump on the way into Kevin and Ruth’s, where I’m staying the night before heading up north.
§
Two months later
17.2.66: On Monday I rode back down from Auckland and camped the night on the southern shore of Lake Taupo. Dinner was simple but enjoyable — tinned spaghetti and peaches. I had time to read for a while before it got dark, and slept as Dad recommends, under a tarpaulin — but I couldn’t look at the stars as I had to take out my contact lenses!
I went direct to Kevin and Ruth’s for the night, and this afternoon went to visit the hospital.
Barry, Nigel, and the Sisters all seemed genuinely pleased to see me. Most of the patients remember me.
Gill and Gordon were dead. Gill died slowly. He deteriorated and grew sicker, thinner, wanner, and died a fortnight before I returned. As for Gordon, they gave him a bath one day and returned him to the day-room, and he simply died — snuffed out like a candle.
God bless them both. They know it all now. Or they know nothing, which is the same thing, the mysteries of life solved for them. I admired and loved them both, and their deaths hurt. When I think of what they must have been as youths — brash and arrogant — life is indeed a grim joke.
That beautiful sky outside my window must hide the riddle’s answer. Life changes arrogance into beauty, timidity into wisdom, and is blotted out. Yet the sky is beautiful, awe-full, gentle in its present mood, and I cannot believe that all is vanity under the sun.
I left the hospital with an extremely happy heart at 5 o’clock and rode back here to Kevin and Ruth’s.