- times,’ the receptionist said. ‘First, for the field test and OCT scan, then to see a consultant who will decide if you need the procedure and, if so, a third time. And you won’t be able to drive for the last two visits as we’ll need to put drops in.’
‘No, I hadn’t realised that,’ I said. ‘But I’ve already had a field test and a scan at my optician’s. Do I really have to have another one?’
‘I’m sorry but that’s just the way it is,’ she said. ‘So shall I book you in then?’
‘I guess so,’ I said meekly, my heart sinking at the thought of all those bus journeys I’d have to plan. It would be like planning a military operation.
The benefits of living in a beautiful area in the countryside cannot be overstated but one of the drawbacks is the lack of rural bus services. To save on the number of services and maximise the number of passengers, buses have doubled up lately and now take a slow and winding path through adjoining towns and villages, picking up people at every available stop. First, I would need to hike for a mile uphill to the bus stop at the crossroads where I would take one bus into town and then wait for a connection to my final destination.
Finding an online bus timetable proved impossible, since I didn’t have all the necessary apps. Luckily, I had amassed enough timetables from walking expeditions over the course of the year. Technically speaking, I could have driven for that first appointment, as it didn’t entail eye drops, but going by bus would be a good way of testing out the route. The journey would take two hours in each direction, so I took along a packed lunch in case there were no cafes on the way. Might as well make a day of it, I thought.
My journey soon turned into a trip down memory lane. I found myself recalling people and places from my past. In those days, the industrial North was in decline, and I couldn’t wait to get away and see the world. Any trip back up North only confirmed these feelings. I saw it as depressing. It would no place in my future. As far as I was concerned, people were dowdy and downtrodden. If truth be told, I wasn’t looking forward to setting foot in the town again. There was nothing there but charity shops, people said.
I must have looked lost when I got off the bus at the bus station, because a couple of people rushed towards me offering help.
‘I know just where you want to go,’ one elderly man said, glancing at the appointment letter I was clutching. ‘It’s for your eyes, isn’t it?’
He pointed out the building which housed the health clinic, giving me precise directions as to how to get there and where exactly to cross the road.
I was half an hour early for my appointment and was surprised to find the waiting room empty. Usually in hospitals these days you are faced with a room full of disgruntled people, but I was the only one there. I didn’t even have time to start on my sandwich before I was called in. The nurse kept telling me how well I was doing, as I was spotting the green lights in the field test. I took it as a compliment even though I knew it had nothing to do with ability.
All this meant I was able to catch the earlier bus back. On the way home, even though the bus followed the same winding path, I was seeing things in a new light. It had all been so quick and easy. The people were so helpful. The staff were so cheerful. The front gardens we passed were full of flowers. One down, two to go! I thought. I know it sounds crazy but during the course of that journey home, I felt as if I was falling back in love with the North.
About the author
Jenny Palmer writes short stories, poetry, memoir and family history. Her collections 'Keepsake and Other Stories,' 2018, and 'Butterflies and Other Stories,' 2024, were published by Bridge House, and are on Amazon. 'Witches, Quakers and Nonconformists,' 2022, is sold at the Pendle Heritage Centre, Barrowford..
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