Not a dicky bird from
yours truly in the last few weeks here in Seyðisfjörður Iceland
Ambulance
Exiting the bow bells pub
in East London I was feeling rather merry. I waved off my friends
who I think I spent the evening with. I started making my way home when a gang
of youths stopped me in my tracks. One extended his right arm in a flash like
motion and connected with my neck. His hand was gripping a broken beer bottle
with the exposed shards now deep in my jugular vein, he quickly snapped out and
the gang moved on promptly - leaving me clutching my neck trying to stop an incredible
flow. My heart was pumping hot water through my fingertips, I looked down and saw
that it was blood.
Vanessa and John would be
unaware that I am perhaps going to die. Oh my god I was in a panic.
I stumbled onwards
desperate. In the direction of home I collapsed into a telephone box, I managed
to grapple the receiver with my left hand while my right hand clutched
pathetically at my severed neck. I secured the receiver and dialled 999. Two
rings felt like 20.
“Hello what service do you
require?”
“Ambulance”
“If you would like to hold
the line please I will put you through.”
“Hello Ambulance”
“I have been stabbed in
the neck and I am dying!”
“Where are you?”
“Bow, a telephone box in
Stroudly Walk please hurry.”
“hold the line please.”
Like I had a choice I was
put on hold.
It felt like someone left
the hot tap running and there was no sign of pain. It was a moment and a click later when I had to
endure “my Heart Skips a Beat” by Olly Murs, this played on a loop for what
seemed an eternity. The blood was seriously pumping now and I was feeling very
faint. The hot water ran downwards but I was freezing from my toes upwards. My hands were shivering
and tears began to stream down my face. I could only think of Vanessa and her sweet poor face. My tears marbling with the blood that now saturated my entire body. I
could just about make out an Indian sounding voice.
“Hello sir Hello?”
Maybe I said something.
“Vot can I do for you
today sir?” He sounded so feint.
“I am dying” I bubbled.
“vere are you sir?”
“Telephone box” I stopped “Stroudly
walk, again.”
“vould you like to tell me
Ver Bow is sir?”
“East … London.” a
whisper.
“I am afraid ve don’t
service this area sir, ve won’t be able to help you tonight you must veight for the morning and dial …”
My energy was spent. I
collapsed. As I slid towards the pavement the telephone dropped on top of my
head, the blood flowed across the gravel and down into the gutter. I sent my
love and blew a kiss to the polluted night sky. I just wanted to see a star.