Sinister. It has been a while. Glasgow Royal Infirmary, for those who haven't seen it, is a massive building. Probably, although not certainly, 200 years old. 200 years seems a reasonable estimate as their is not much of a car park, so perhaps it was built when horses and carts brought sick people in. The front of the building, where the entrance is, faces Glasgow City Centre. Glasgow City Of Architecture. Next to the building is the Cathedral. Another very old building. At this time of year if you should happen to be facing the building, look upwards and see the only ward that has Christmas trees. That is Ward 5. The walls in Ward 5 are mint green. Outside the ward is an uncomfortable padded bench. In bed one of Ward 5 there is an elderly gentlman named Mr Hay. Mr Hay is clearly bored as he sits in his bed with a unlit cigarette in his mouth. Earlier in the day Mr Hay took and hid a bottle of wine from the raffle hamper. The nurses have their work cut out for them when Mr Hay gets bored. There is quite alot of activity in Ward 5. Nurses rushing about doing what nurses do. Doctors coming and going. But not all of Ward 5 is so active. At the very entrance to Ward 5, on the right hand side there are 2 rooms. On one room the door is open and a man is sitting eating and talking to a younger woman, perhaps his daughter. That is bed 21. The room next to that is the last bed on the ward. Bed 22. The door on that room is not open, and the curtains are closed over. In bed 22 lies the shadow of a man.Too weak to move, too weak to talk, only just enough strength to open his tired blue eyes and look for not even a minute. I take his hand in mine. We sit for a time. I want to talk to him, but I cannot get the words. He holds my hand. In such a whisper that he is almost not heard he says my hands are cold, do I want gloves. I smile. After a time, we leave, I kiss him on the cheek. That was wednesday. A late night at work on thursday prevented me from going through that night. I am told he is much better, he was talking about the football and wanted to watch bowls on the tv. On friday afternoon, he is the same as wednesday. For a while I go into Glasgow City Centre, I want to buy him a Christmas Card. I spend some time looking but I cannot choose one. I return. We sit with him. Before we leave I kiss him on the cheek and whisper in his ear 'I will see you soon'. On friday evening my mum goes back through, I choose not to as I feel very tired and have an early start the next day. I will however go through straight from work. That night I remember. I remember the sweets he kept in the cupboard behind his chair. I remember helping him plant seeds in the greenhouse. When they grow up they will go into the garden, he has the most beautiful garden. I remember everything. I write a letter for him, but maybe not to him, about how much I love him, and how all my memories of him are so special. The next morning, Saturday morning, this morning, I get a bus ticket to get me from home to work, and from work to Glasgow. The bus ticket is never used. Bed 22 on Ward 5 lies empty now. +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo@missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-+ Snipp snapp snut, sa var sagan slut! +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+