Following my previous post about my brush with the Law, I've remembered another time when I was very nearly arrested.
(Why does it always happen to me?)
During the 1970's I worked as a Dental Surgery Assistant. I absolutely loved it!
One Thursday afternoon, my left eye became very red and sore.
"What's wrong with your eye?" asked Mr Stewart, my boss.
"I don't know. It came on just after lunch." I replied.
"Let's have a look," he said and pulled me to the light of the window to see it better.
In those days, we wore no gloves, no masks, and no eye protection. Mr Stewart thought that I'd got some amalgam in my eye. (The silver stuff that fillings are made from.) He could see a sore bit on the underneath of my eyelid, but no amalgam.
To be on the safe side I was sent up to A&E to get it checked out. The nurse examined my eye. There was nothing in my eye as far as she could tell. My eye was washed out, cream was applied, and she bandaged my eye.............................
I think she was new to the job!
I was told to keep it bandaged and return to A&E the following Monday.
The next day, I went to work, as usual. Mr Stewart had been called back to Edinburgh as his father was ill.
After I'd telephoned his patients, I took the opportunity to catch up on the dental supplies order.
About 11 o'clock, the receptionist said that there was someone waiting at the front desk to see me.
It was Nanny Fanshawe.
Nanny worked in one of the large rural Lincolnshire houses. The previous week, her employer, Colonel Jones, (not his real name) had been in to have his teeth cleaned.
He was a lovely chap, he looked exactly as you would expect a Colonel to look like. He always reminded me of Sir Basil on "The Herbs" TV programme.
Before he left the surgery, as always, he shook our hands with gusto. On this visit, he asked Mr Stewart if he would like a brace of pheasant.
"I'll get Nanny to drop some off for you next week." He said.
So, Nanny was here holding a brace of pheasant. I thanked her, not having a clue what to do with them.
After she'd gone, there was some blood on the floor from the pheasants. I swiftly cleaned it up, before it frightened any patients away, but the blood went all over my dental coat.
I popped my head round the door of the other dentist who worked there and asked him where to put them.
"Can you put them in the freezer upstairs?" (They lived in a flat above the surgery.)
"I don't think that's a good idea - they've still got their feathers on!" I told him.
"I don't know what to do with them, any ideas?" he asked.
Then I had a thought, "Shall I pop round to my brother's shop and ask him to pluck and draw them for you?"
My brother worked in a butcher's not far from the surgery.
"Good idea, off you go!" he said.
So there I was walking up Lincoln High Street, bandage round my head, blood all over the front of my white dental coat, swinging a brace of dead pheasant.
No wonder a policeman stopped me and wouldn't believe what had happened 'til I got him to come with me to my brother's shop!
Because of the bandage round me head, I spent the whole weekend not being able to join my mates and go out dancing.
I was so blinkin' fed up!
Even more so when I returned to A&E on the Monday morning. I saw a doctor this time.
He told me not to worry....................................
It was only a gnat bite, after all!