august 9th

Somehow there didn't seem time to pick up the umbrella from by the
front door. The pavement by the Winter Garden was tabbied with puddles.
I had to keep letting go R's hand to avoid my plimsoles getting soaked.
We were both fairly wet before we even GOT to the ferry, then got
wetter waiting to get on, then decided to go on the outside cos it was
so full and steamy inside, and found a bit where the wind seemed to
blow the rain past, so sat there. R looks so beautiful, rain trickling
down his gold-stubbled face. As if recharged by it, his eyes always
seem extra blue by the sea. I love him so much. Wish he'd shaved lately
though, as he is so prickly to kiss! It's like trying to pick juicy
blackberries out of a bramble bush with your tongue
I don't remember it ever raining this much when we've been on the
ferry. Usually the Victorian houses on the front look like a row of
bright postage stamps but today they were just smudges in the grey.
After a few minutes at sea, a seagull settled on a rail just out of our
sight - I could see it must be wobbling though because wing tips would
jab out from behind the barrel thing we sheltered behind. Then it came
to fly right next to us, exactly the same speed as the ferry so we
could see every feather; it's pink eye kept darting sideways as if
perplexed it had not overtaken us though it was moving and we,
apparently, were not. After a while it gave up and sheered away back to
land
When the ferry curved round half way across, we caught the rain a bit,
but by then we we'd got gradually wetter so didn't seem much point
moving. Rain makes close needle holes in the sea. R put his arm round
my shoulders and even through his coat I could feel his warmth.
As we queued to get off we were all jolly. Rivulets guttered from a
lady's scarlet umbrella onto a raincoated man's oblivious grey
shoulder. Another man sheltered under a friend's huge crimson and
carmine striped umbrella, ignoring the rain bouncing off the deck to
soak his black trousers blacker up to the knee. Umbrellas are like
man-made morning glory flowers, only they need rain not sun to unfurl.
I felt the first trickle down my back.
On the slip-way a friendly, sopping man in a luminous yellow anorak
pointed to the station saying the train was about to go, but we headed
up the little slope in the rain to catch the bus, as the midwife'd said
it went straight to the hospital
It pulled up and we hurried. My knees were wet now, from rain trickling
off the edge of my not very waterproof waterproof. Wonderfully the bus
coincides with the ferry and waits for all passengers who want to use
it. Everyone was patient by the bus steps, and even though we were all
soaking by time got on bus everyone was cheerful and laughing, and when
sat down had to make sure the person infront's coat didn't trickle on
you, or you on the person behind. But bus was lovely and warm and soon
elderly couples were helping each other out of their oilies and
resettling with sighs. One frail old lady loaded with gold jewellry
seemed unconciously to lean her head towards her husband as if drawn by
a magnet.
So many different kinds of perm!
Soon the windows steamed up so much you could hardly see a thing, and
sometimes the bus would go through huge puddles at the road edge,
making a wall of water reaching over its roof for minutes at a time.
One car coming the other way must have been driving too fast, as it had
huge wings of spray on each side, the near one splashing the bus's
windscreen. We craned about looking for signs to the hospital in the
bleak modern outskirts of the town, but needn't have worried as the
first stop was the hospital doors

When we went in we had 4 minutes till appointment, queued for 2 to find
had to go 3 floors up. Lift took ages so decided to use stairs. I
started to feel sick again, but knew I couldn't be, as had not eaten or
drunk anything more than a few sips of water. This place was so BARREN,
it was hard to think of it as having anything to do with being
pregnant. There were lots of Matisse prints, but they were drowned in
the deadness of the airconditioned, electric lit space. R said it
reminded him of the hospital in the ps2 game Silent Hill. The
overwhelming impression was of grey, though not sure there was actually
any grey at all. Wandering in corridor we were scooped up by a
skeletally thin lady who asked who we were looking for, as if we were
her first meal in ages, and seemed exhaustedly pleased I was on her
list. We waited in the reception room. Another couple sat on the far
side, laughing confidently in low voices. I looked out of the window at
the rain. R was silent. The air felt like a letter that had never been
opened and no longer meant anything to anyone. On the table infront of
us was a thin picture book of the Ugly Duckling. Love would make my
baby a swan, whatever. There was a carpet play mat which consisted of
jagged angled roads and garish buildings in yellow and red. You knew
the grass at the edges, if it had been real, would have had broken
glass in, and the poo of dogs never let off their leads.
The other couple went first. A little girl came in, looked round and
with an expression of experienced patience knelt neatly beside the mat
to play with the plastic building blocks that seemed immature for
her.
The poor receptionist lady kept sniffing and coughing as if the air was
a file wearing her down. The little girl's determinedly serene mother
and impatient looking father came and they all left. Six children with
their dad, who was small and cocky like a sparrow, came in, all eating
white baps, and wandered around. The mother came in, looking tired and
pregnant. They left.
Then it was my turn. Down a corridor with more suffocated Matisses,
into a room so small it was all corners and no walls. There were three
chairs, two attempting to be comfortable under the dim light, the other
pushed further back. The chairs were too far apart to easily hold R's
hand. I was beginning to feel like one of those astronauts who are on
the outside of a space ship and have their anchor line cut. A nervous
seeming tiny Indian man walked by and did a double take seeing us.
"Have you come for a scan?" he asked. R said yes. "Name please?" I gave
my surname, and that is what I was called as we trailed into the
scanning room.
A nurse whos face I didn't register as she came from behind, turning
the light off, told me to get on the couch. R had taken his coat off
and put it on the floor. I took mine off and put it over his. As I got
on the couch the nurse said "Pull your trousers down!" I did and she
yanked down my pants a bit and stuffed one of those paper towels into
the elastic. The gel stuff she squirted on was scalding hot.
The scan pictures seemed exactly the same to me as the ones done on the
island. The midwife had said it would show if the baby had cystic
fibrosis. Every time I asked the doctor if everything was ok he asked
me to repeat myself, which cheered me up a bit, as I am a bit deaf too,
but he would only answer that it was too early to tell at this stage.
Then he did some scans that showed the baby's skeleton, which I didn't
like : silly I know, finding your own baby's skeleton creepy! Anyway,
all the bones were fine, though the afterbirth is under rather than
over the baby, but he said that nearly always sorts itself out by the
time you give birth, and I'm not quite half way through yet. He told me
I'd have to come back in November. Inside a little spark said NO
Then, without saying anything else, he stopped sliding the scanner over
my tummy, the nurse briskly wiped a bit of gel off with another paper
towel, and I tried to get the worst off with the one that had been
stuffed in my pants, before pulling up my trousers and getting off the
couch and putting my coat on
As if upset at a breach of ettiquette, the doctor said querelously "I
see no notes! Where are the notes?" R hastliy pulled the big plastic
folder the midwife gives you on your first visit, out of its wrapping
of Morrison bags; the paper had still got wet around the edges, which
the doctor found amusing. The nurse told us to wait outside. Relieved
to be dismissed we went back to the reception room

It was empty save for the sniffing receptionist lady who was trying to
get hold of someone who had gone to lunch, and a drift of listless
looking nurses too tired even to talk to each other as they waited by
her desk. I apologised to R that we had come all this way for no reason
-I had thought the anomaly scan would give me something positive to
tell my parents, or at worst would have told me if there was something
so wrong with the baby that it would be kinder to abort him, which is
what they wanted in the first place. I decided I'd just tell them he
was fine and carry on hoping. It would be too late for an abortion next
week, so they would not be able to go on about it any more.
Looking through the windows the rain seemed to be easing off. It didn't
make the view any less bleak though. We pondered going on to Glasgow to
get R a bike, as his lunch breaks are being changed to 2 half hours
instead of 1 hour so he won't get long have a cuddle, let alone eat
anything by the time he got home, but we'd forgotten to look up where
bike shops are on the internet, and were so tired anyway - I'd had
about 4 hours sleep, I doubt R had had much more. I felt like the
Matisse prints
The receptionist lady flashed something yellow at me from behind her
desk "Have you got a card?" I said no. She looked a bit shocked, like
the island is so primitive they don't give out yellow cards, and
bestowed one on me with the 15th November on it. As she was writing it
out I said she had an awful cold? She said bravely that it was an
allergy and she was always like this
A nurse came in with my notes and we left as quick as we could. R
pressed the lift button but when it stopped it was full of nurses so we
used the stairs again.

Outside, it was drizzling. There was a bus, but it only went into town,
and you'd have to wait and change there to go back. After asking at the
help desk we found that the buses to the ferry left from the station on
the main road, so we set off. Cars slashed by spewing grey gashes. I
was so glad we chose to live on the island, had forgotten how faceless
mainland life can be. Cleverly R worked out that we had to double back
: if I'd been on my own I'd never have got home. We crossed the road,
eventally reached the bus stop, which thankfully had a shelter. I was
really not sure I'd be able to cope with all this big as a walrus in
November. There was a while till the next bus. R went to look at the
station to see if there was anything sooner going to Glasgow, but the
track was under water for about 10 metres, and as I went to look there
was an announcement that all trains had been cancelled, sorry etc. Two
girls in immaculate white, no coats, left, muttering, but not seeming
very suprised.
To pass the time, we looked in the folder to see what the doctor had
written, but there was nothing. Every time you see ANYONE medical they
write something in it, so felt bit let down.
Buses are bummer here, as 3 different companies, and you can only use
return tickets on same company bought from, but fortunately very
frequent so after false hope of wrong bus company and deciding not to
fork out another ?9, we only had to wait 10 mins, also fortunately
there was someone waiting for another bus who waved frantically when
they saw it, so we realised that buses don't stop automatically here.
Very different from the island, where when the drivers get to know you
they mostly let you off wherever you want to go, and pick you up if you
just wait anywhere on the route (this can be embarrassing if you just
happen to be waiting to cross the road!)

The bus came. It was nearly empty this time. An old lady showed a young
man across the aisle her newspaper which said WORST FLOODS IN FOUR
YEARS, which seemed a bit desperate for a headline. When we got off it
was ages till next ferry and not wanting whole day, not to mention
ferry fare to be wasted we decided to go on to the nice little town we
got R's work clothes from last year. Was just drizzling at bus stop and
only a short wait. Felt happier seeing island's coast across the water.
R paid for the fares again. Strange being dependent. When we got out,
it had stopped raining! The shops there are sort of old fashioned; as
well as being lots of seasidey ones there is a tobacco shop that sells
pipes, and different sorts of tobacco in big jars like it was pick and
mix sweets, and a sweet shop that looks like it is owned by the witch
in Hansel and Gretel it is so tempting : even I want to buy stuff from
it and I don't like sweets! We went into a shop which said on the door
that it is the biggest department store in the world (pushing it a
bit?) but did sell a bit of EVERYTHING. We looked at bikes, but they
were all over ?170, so asked if they had any rollerskates? They said
no, but they DID have rollerblades. They were stopping selling them
however and had only two pairs left, at half price. One pair was R's
size, and he cheered up to have got something at such a bargain. I
bought him some more socks too as all his others have more hole than
sock, out of the saved last week's housekeeping, in a sale in a shop
with cardboard all over the floor as it was flooded in the night. Then
we went to the charity shop where we got his trousers before, and he
got some new ones that fitted pefectly. We looked for trousers for me -
I have gone up four sizes already - but as there wasn't anything I
really liked, thought might as well get them on the island, though when
R came out of changing room and showed him a beautiful DKNY
cotton/linen jumper (!) for only ?5 he bought it for me, after I said I
didn't really need it. I think the baby will like it as it is a lovely
mixture of golden yellow and orange and looks like dragon scales :0) I
can wear it while I feed him as it is so baggy it will go over other
clothes, and being cotton can be washed with other stuff.

Then we had spent enough money and I was tired so we got bus back to
ferry (still not raining but it started drizzling heavily again while
on bus) The road runs beside the sea all the way which makes it a
lovely trip even in the rain. There was a seal on a rock, and a whole
crowd of cormorants crammed onto another. The bus had to stop at
roadworks and we could see the ferry coming in and weren't sure if we
would miss it, but we didn't! and only had a little while to wait too.
Also there were quite a few of the people who'd been on the ferry
coming out with us and a friendly elderly couple said hullo
again.
It wasn't raining too hard so went on the top deck. A young man with a
dog called Sparky, and his Mum, read Q. The dog came to talk to R. He
has this affect on animals. When he tried doing t'ai chi in the park in
his tea break they kept coming up to him and not paying any attention
when their owners called them. He stroked Sparky absent mindedly, then
when the dog went back to the young man, stroked me
After a while the rain got a bit heavier. Everyone else went inside,
the friendly couple saying we were brave sticking it out, but soon it
was pouring and we went in too, which made them laugh. Waiting to get
off the ferry, the young man carefully carried Sparky down the
steps.

We had decided as it was so horrible to get a DVD out, so when we got
off we stopped off at Stoney's and R chose a Japanese one, and then we
went home and I made lots of oven chips to the sound of WHAAYs and
crashes and OWs as R practised rollerblading about the hall and sitting
room.
After chips, which I ate ok too, we went outside where R tried
rollerblading on the road but it was slippery because of the rain and
also there is quite a hill so he found it rather hard going and the
only way he could stop was by bumping into the walls which are a bit
brambly. So we went in and as I was still cold wet and tired I had a
bath and went to bed for a bit while he looked up how to stop on
rollerblades on the internet then bought himself some fish and chips. I
woke up to find him doing the washing up. I heated up the left overs of
the yummy stew he'd made the night before, then we watched the film
then took B for walk.
We brought the rollerblades, in their special plastic case, so he could
practice on the sea front where it is flat pavement. He sat on the wall
at the bottom of Skeoch woods and I helped slide off his boots and put
on the rollerblades, then I put his boots in the rollerblade case and
carried them. As it was the middle of the night there was no one to see
him if he fell over :0) He only did once though! when some loose gravel
caught in a wheel. I'm glad he was wearing his thick anorak so didn't
hurt himself. Apparently you are supposed to wear lots of padding and
stuff but that costs ?80 and he reckons as he used to rollerskate he
will pick this up easily. B was very worried because R was moving
strangely I think. It was still drizzling so the surface was wet, but
even in a few minutes R looked more confident. Then it started raining
again, so he put his boots back on and we went home to bed.