We drive out
along the coast road, high above the sea.
I read about
these chalk cliffs. How they were laid down over millions of years in the warm,
deep waters of the Cretaceous, the skeletons of countless billions of plankton,
raining down from the sunlit upper reaches to the dark sea bed. As plesiosaurs
and ammonites swam through the water, and pterosaurs flew through the air, and iguanodons
and megalosaurs walked on the land, the ooze deepened, the pressure intensified,
and the chalk deposits grew. Millions of years of change were gathered into it,
a limitless array of fishes and urchins, molluscs and corals, one thing into
another, a bustling scrawl of life written into stone. And then the global
changes, the great geological events, the boundaries between one aeon and
another, the crash of an asteroid, a mass eruption, hot to cold, the rise and fall
of oceans, the driving up of mountains, the drag and retreat of ice fields, all
living things struggling to adapt, living, thriving, dying, pushing on.
Out there, where
those boats are fishing now? It wasn’t so long ago that was fertile land. You
could walk from here to France. Our ancestors lived out on the tundra, hunting bison
and elk.
From time to
time their bones get fetched up the nets.
Things happen,
whether we want them to or not.
*
David is waiting
for us in his living room, surrounded by the things he has collected over the
last sixty years. Japanese netsuke, chessmen and porcelain figures, photographs
and carved wooden elephants. His wife Erica shows us in; David is too poorly to
move.
‘I just need my
pain relief sorting out,’ he says. ‘I’ve got cancer, you see. It started in the
lungs, I had an op and a whole load of chemotherapy and whatnot. A horrible
business, but it seemed to have done the trick – except, it hadn’t, really.
It’s come back, in my liver, maybe a few other places, they’re not sure. They
said I could go back on the old chemo but I said no. I’d rather live the last
few months feeling more like myself – do you know what I mean? – rather than go
down that road again. I just don’t
want it. But I woke up with these pains here and here, and some difficulty
breathing. I hope you don’t mind me calling you out like this. Only I got a bit
panicked by it, d’you know what I mean?’
We do what we can
to make him comfortable, sort things out. Erica goes into the kitchen to make
some tea. We chat about this and that.
‘I tell you something
that happened the other day,’ he says. ‘I was out taking a stroll through town,
you know, getting some air, when I felt a bit puffed and had to have a little
sit down on a wall outside a petrol station. It was a lovely day, though –
d’you remember? – cold, but bright. Anyway, I was sitting on this wall watching
the world go by when a group of young girls came out of the petrol station, on
their dinner break from the local school. One of them was very striking, lovely
blond hair, really shining in the sun, you know? She looked like an angel. Anyway,
she had this pack of sandwiches. She unwrapped the wrapper, took the sandwiches
out, then tossed the wrapper backwards over her shoulder. So when she passed me
I said “There’s a bin just there, love”. And d’you know what that sweet-looking
girl said to me? She leant in close, with her hand to the side of her face like
she wanted to whisper, and she said: “Shut your mouth you old cunt”. Then
carried on walking. Just like that. I was so shocked I didn’t know what to say.
But then I thought “What the hell”. So I called out: “And you have a lovely
day, too.” So she turned round and gave me the finger.’
He shrugs, and
adjusts his position in the chair.
‘I don’t know
why I’m telling you all this,’ he says, pinching the bridge of his nose and
giving his head a little shake. ‘It’s all ancient history. It just played on my
mind a bit, that’s all. It doesn’t really mean anything.’
*
When we’ve sorted David out, we say goodbye
and get back into the ambulance.
Control sends us back to base.
We retrace our route along the high cliff
road, driving quietly and quickly, the sea shining beneath us, the sky clear
and blue above.
5 comments:
The bit about geology is stunning. A la Carl Sagan, but in your own voice.
I wasn't sure if you were describing the evolution of our land or Buxton Market Place on a Saturday night.
And what a charming young angel she was too.I bet she'd look good in a set of stocks.
Thanks Wayne. Funnily enough, I just recently read that 'Pale blue dot' piece by Carl Sagan - describing the photo of Earth taken from the edge of the solar system by Voyager 1. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pale_Blue_Dot#Reflections_by_Sagan). Fantastic.
Which reminds me, I must get a copy of his book (too late to ask for it for Xmas, probably).
Hey Jacks
Buxton Market Place. Now there's a fossil I'd like to see.
And as for that foul-mouthed angel - where are those hungry little therapods when you need them? :/
If that had been one of my kids I would have beat them purple and strung them up! How bloody dare she speak to an elderly chap like that, no respect at all. Poor guy.
I know - shocking, isn't it? And the way he described it - the vehemence of her response really upset him (as it would me). Still - we tried to make up for it. Who know what must be going on in that girl's life for her to respond like that? You have to worry a little about that!
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