Going back to my routes

Certain aspects of holidays remained a complete mystery to me when I was a child. One such mystery was those 'Holiday Route' road signs - a yellow rectangle containing the letters HR in black - that often marked part of our journey to the exotic lands of Devon and North Wales. I could never work out exactly when or why dad was following them. Their only purpose seemed to be creating a procession of slow-moving traffic for locals to avoid.

Today, as an adult and a driver, I'm none the wiser. These days you hardly see HR signs, anyway. Everyone's on the motorway with their sat-nav and no-one's sitting in the passenger seat of a Mini Traveller with an AA guidebook.

What I did understand as a child (and still understand today) was the holiday appeal of Lewes. I spent my 13th birthday in the town, celebrating by taking pictures of the castle and the railway station with my new 35mm ‘grown up’ camera. Although I didn't really appreciate the castle being hidden up a little lane behind the High Street, we had a fun day out. There was picnicking on mum’s home-made cheese tarts and dad’s home-grown tomatoes, if I remember correctly. Unfortunately the camera wasn't particularly good, so my memories aren't photographic.

This year, Lewes has received plenty more summer visitors. Now, like migrant swallows, most have departed - and the snaking queue of customers between Le Magasin and Bill's Produce Store has finally disappeared. (Some say the queue changes direction on occasions, with a few people at the back of the line being served breakfast as they wait for lunch at the neighbouring restaurant). Yet while Lewesians breathe a sigh of relief when the sightseers say goodbye, we in Ringmer have enjoyed an entire season of peace. In fact, although there are a couple of places in the village offering Bed and Breakfast, I think I can safely say that Ringmer is not a tourist trap.

How can I be so sure?  Just five simple checks. First, I've never seen anyone in Ringmer suddenly stop walking down the pavement to consult a map. Second, I've not heard anyone here complaining about all the shops turning into coffee bars... or turning into bookshops... or turning into antique dealers. Third, I've never found anyone peering into the local estate agent's window to compare prices with those 'back home'. Fourth, we don't have multiple buskers. And finally, there aren’t any holiday route signs directing traffic along the B2192. Unless… hmm… perhaps we’re at the end of the route. Maybe that's how those yellow signs worked. When you stopped seeing them, it was time to stop driving!

First published on vivalewes.com 19th September 2013: http://www.vivalewes.com/going-back-to-my-routes/

The cycle of learning

When I was a teenager, I stepped on a banana skin. Until that point I had no idea banana skins were actually slippery. I'd viewed them as fictional comedy props that never really worked properly, like itching powder and invisible ink. The same as those cartoons where errant cyclists flew over the handlebars. How I laughed. I was even laughing after I flew over the handlebars of my own bike in Lewes this week. My biggest regret was not catching the moment on camera.

It was, you'll be pleased to hear, my fault. Well, I was in a hurry. I wasn't early enough to catch the bus from Ringmer, so I was pedalling frenetically down Southover Road and then stopped too quickly. All of a sudden I was flying through the air and doing an impromptu handstand while my bicycle caught up. "Are you alright?" asked a concerned passer-by. Much to my surprise, I was. I continued to my meeting, had a strong cup of tea (for medicinal purposes only) and cycled home.

Unfortunately the combination of tea and adrenaline eventually ran out. An uncomfortable ache in my left hand became evident. Torn between suffering the pain of my cycling injury and the pain of waiting behind dozens of more-deserving patients in Brighton's Accident & Emergency department, I asked my wife for advice. "Why don't you go to the Minor Injury Unit in Lewes?"

This was a revelation. What a wonderful resource. Although I knew the Lewes Victoria Hospital was there on Nevill Road, I'd not realised it was happy if you wandered in without an appointment. But wander I did. This time I travelled on the 28 bus, which turned out to be a wise choice. After a spot of form-filling at the hospital I was soon seen by ‘Sister’, who gently prodded me, noticed me flinch and sent me off for an x-ray. A few minutes of Bargain Hunt on the TV in reception passed the time adequately before my hand was irradiated. Back to Sister, who'd spotted a worrying line on one of the photographs. Perhaps a scaphoid fracture, she said, perhaps not. But better safe than sorry. She plastered my wrist and part of my arm, booking a consultation for me at the Brighton fracture clinic. They'd take a closer look, possibly with an MRI scan.

The reason for the caution, I was told, was that the damage could affect blood flow to the bone... which in turn could cause problems with my thumb. And, as Sister pointed out, it's our thumbs that set us apart from other animals. Too true, I thought, as I strolled back to the bus stop. Without a thumb I'd be no more use than a cat. And what chance was there of a cat ever writing this column?

First published on vivalewes.com 5th September 2013: http://www.vivalewes.com/the-cycle-of-learning/