47) A Night Out
A new nightclub opened in Salisbury. It was called the Lighthouse; it was in Avondale and was very popular. Jonny took me there one evening for a meal. We had a lovely evening, watched the cabaret, danced a little and enjoyed the food. When we called for the bill we realised that we did not have enough cash on us to pay it and we would really have liked another drink each before we went home. Jonny talked to the manager and asked if we could pay them with a cheque (no bank cards in those days). The manager was not keen on the cheque, I suppose his clientele where inclined to be unreliable as far as cheques were concerned but he did eventually agree. After all it was that or nothing, we had eaten the food already and watched the entertainment.
We had left the cheque book in the car so Jonny went to get it. He brought it back and asked me to make out the cheque. I opened it up and found that it was an empty book; all the cheque forms had been used up, now what were we going to do? Jonny just saw the funny side of it and laughed but I was very worried. Again Jonny had to go and see the manager and explain that the cheque he had so reluctantly agreed to was now not forthcoming and he would have to wait until the next morning for his money. He took our names, address and telephone number but if we were a couple of con artists trying to get a free meal we would surely not have given him our correct name and address so I suppose that he wondered if he would ever see his money.
The next morning as Jonny had to go to work I went with the cash to pay for our evening out. How different a nightclub looks in the cold light of day. Gone the soft lighting and gently music and the romantic atmosphere. Curtains drawn, windows open, and chairs up on the tables as the cleaning staff worked to clean up the mess from the night before. I remember how shocked I was to see how many pills were being swept away by the cleaners. The drug scene was not so active in those days and it was unknown among our circle of friends. I was sad to think that some of the people that had enjoyed the evening around us had been taking drugs.
Another evening out that was quite eventful was when I fainted on the dance floor. We were with a group of friends; I am not sure who they all were. We had gone to a restaurant in a local hotel for a meal and there was a small dance floor. I had had a busy day; I had given blood in the morning, done a tea duty at the school as well as my usual chores. I had not eaten much as I did not want to spoil the meal I was looking forward to. We had ordered our food and while we were waiting to be served got up to dance. The next thing I remember was coming round on a couch in the hotel foyer with our doctor beside me. I was shocked to think that they had called the doctor to me when I was not that sick. It turned out that Dr. Knight had been having a quiet dinner with his wife when there was a bit of a commotion on the dance floor, a patron had collapsed. When I came round and told him that I had given blood that day and not eaten he told me how silly I was, told me to go and have my meal and he went back to finish his. It was rather embarrassing as I was sure that the other people there would have thought that I had had too much to drink but I had only had a few sips of my glass of wine. After I had eaten I was fine and we had a good evening but on the way home we had trouble with the car, I am not sure what the problem was but it needed to be pushed and for some reason I can’t think what I was the one that had to push it. There I was in the middle of the night with a long evening dress and high-heeled shoes pushing our car. Usually someone would help in that situation but at that time of the night there was no one around.
Talking of donating blood, I must tell you about the Blood Transfusion Service in Rhodesia. I had started giving blood as soon as I was 16 in the United Kingdom and it was very organised and orderly. I did not start donating again until we were living in Hatfield and found the Service very different. In Britain at the time one could only give blood every six months, for two years after you had had a baby, I think it was, and after you had given you were required to lay on the bed for about quarter of an hour before you were fed sweet tea and given a couple of biscuits. In Rhodesia they would accept a donation every six weeks but as they had a very small storage capacity for the blood and they did not have the facilities to use the blood to make plasma or any of the other by products that they do now so they had to get it fresh. As soon as there was a need for your particular blood group they would ring you up and ask if you were available. If your reason for not going had anything to do with transport they could arrange to collect you and bring you to the centre. If a large quantity of a particular blood group was required for a big operation you would be called. Although the nurses who took the blood were not allowed to tell you the name of the person having the operation they would often tell you the story behind the patient and you would know that your blood was being used for a child with leukaemia or a mother who had had a very hard delivery. Or maybe it would be a road accident or a terrorist attack or even a farmer gored by his bull. It did make it much more personal and it made you really feel your blood was going to a good cause. But the most amusing thing about the whole thing was the premises that they were using. They were in a small building that had been condemned before World War Two. When war had broken out there had not been the money to spend on buildings but they continued to use it as part of the hospital. And now thirty years after the war had ended they were still using it. They had tried to shore up the walls by building buttresses against them but they were still very badly cracked, with cracks wide enough to see through and the roof leaked so badly that if it was raining the donors were given umbrellas to hold over themselves as they laid on the bed during the donation. Of course things did not go on like that forever. There were plans for a whole new hospital and the first section to be built was the Blood Transfusion Unit. It was a lovely new building, modern and well equipped with the facilities to store and process all the blood they could get so blood was collected in a much more orderly way. About two months after your last visit you would get a note in the mail to remind you to come in again and as it was just stored no one knew who the blood was going to be used for. Yes of course it still was going to a good cause but it had lost the personal touch that had been its charm.
We had left the cheque book in the car so Jonny went to get it. He brought it back and asked me to make out the cheque. I opened it up and found that it was an empty book; all the cheque forms had been used up, now what were we going to do? Jonny just saw the funny side of it and laughed but I was very worried. Again Jonny had to go and see the manager and explain that the cheque he had so reluctantly agreed to was now not forthcoming and he would have to wait until the next morning for his money. He took our names, address and telephone number but if we were a couple of con artists trying to get a free meal we would surely not have given him our correct name and address so I suppose that he wondered if he would ever see his money.
The next morning as Jonny had to go to work I went with the cash to pay for our evening out. How different a nightclub looks in the cold light of day. Gone the soft lighting and gently music and the romantic atmosphere. Curtains drawn, windows open, and chairs up on the tables as the cleaning staff worked to clean up the mess from the night before. I remember how shocked I was to see how many pills were being swept away by the cleaners. The drug scene was not so active in those days and it was unknown among our circle of friends. I was sad to think that some of the people that had enjoyed the evening around us had been taking drugs.
Another evening out that was quite eventful was when I fainted on the dance floor. We were with a group of friends; I am not sure who they all were. We had gone to a restaurant in a local hotel for a meal and there was a small dance floor. I had had a busy day; I had given blood in the morning, done a tea duty at the school as well as my usual chores. I had not eaten much as I did not want to spoil the meal I was looking forward to. We had ordered our food and while we were waiting to be served got up to dance. The next thing I remember was coming round on a couch in the hotel foyer with our doctor beside me. I was shocked to think that they had called the doctor to me when I was not that sick. It turned out that Dr. Knight had been having a quiet dinner with his wife when there was a bit of a commotion on the dance floor, a patron had collapsed. When I came round and told him that I had given blood that day and not eaten he told me how silly I was, told me to go and have my meal and he went back to finish his. It was rather embarrassing as I was sure that the other people there would have thought that I had had too much to drink but I had only had a few sips of my glass of wine. After I had eaten I was fine and we had a good evening but on the way home we had trouble with the car, I am not sure what the problem was but it needed to be pushed and for some reason I can’t think what I was the one that had to push it. There I was in the middle of the night with a long evening dress and high-heeled shoes pushing our car. Usually someone would help in that situation but at that time of the night there was no one around.
Talking of donating blood, I must tell you about the Blood Transfusion Service in Rhodesia. I had started giving blood as soon as I was 16 in the United Kingdom and it was very organised and orderly. I did not start donating again until we were living in Hatfield and found the Service very different. In Britain at the time one could only give blood every six months, for two years after you had had a baby, I think it was, and after you had given you were required to lay on the bed for about quarter of an hour before you were fed sweet tea and given a couple of biscuits. In Rhodesia they would accept a donation every six weeks but as they had a very small storage capacity for the blood and they did not have the facilities to use the blood to make plasma or any of the other by products that they do now so they had to get it fresh. As soon as there was a need for your particular blood group they would ring you up and ask if you were available. If your reason for not going had anything to do with transport they could arrange to collect you and bring you to the centre. If a large quantity of a particular blood group was required for a big operation you would be called. Although the nurses who took the blood were not allowed to tell you the name of the person having the operation they would often tell you the story behind the patient and you would know that your blood was being used for a child with leukaemia or a mother who had had a very hard delivery. Or maybe it would be a road accident or a terrorist attack or even a farmer gored by his bull. It did make it much more personal and it made you really feel your blood was going to a good cause. But the most amusing thing about the whole thing was the premises that they were using. They were in a small building that had been condemned before World War Two. When war had broken out there had not been the money to spend on buildings but they continued to use it as part of the hospital. And now thirty years after the war had ended they were still using it. They had tried to shore up the walls by building buttresses against them but they were still very badly cracked, with cracks wide enough to see through and the roof leaked so badly that if it was raining the donors were given umbrellas to hold over themselves as they laid on the bed during the donation. Of course things did not go on like that forever. There were plans for a whole new hospital and the first section to be built was the Blood Transfusion Unit. It was a lovely new building, modern and well equipped with the facilities to store and process all the blood they could get so blood was collected in a much more orderly way. About two months after your last visit you would get a note in the mail to remind you to come in again and as it was just stored no one knew who the blood was going to be used for. Yes of course it still was going to a good cause but it had lost the personal touch that had been its charm.
posted by JC at
7:41 pm
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home