Amateur Brain Surgery

Some people have imaginary friends. The Nurse goes imaginary walking.

Before being banged up The Nurse was a keen walker. She’d stride the South Downs Way twenty shining miles at a time, drowning in the spiralling song of skylarks. She’d push her lithe body up the soaring crags of Langdale Pikes. She’d wander the Cleveland Way collecting owl pellets and smelling sun-dried heather. And she’d sit in cool spring woods next to placid pools watching buzzing, jewelled dragonflies.  

Now, limited to a few scant minutes in a grim, grey yard twice a week, much more imagination is required. The Nurse works hard at recalling the sights and smells of the Lake District, Downs, Pennines, hills and Dales of lovely England. On a beautiful day like this her memories are especially poignant.   

If she had the chance she’d be out there again. Crawling from her tent at six on a bluer than blue, summer-frosty Helvellyn morning. Hitching her rucksack onto her tired back after a day following the chalky spine of the South Downs parallel to a balmy sea. Or happily tearing out her hair on low growing bushes as she ventures deep into Sussex’s  cool, echoing, bird-loud forests. 

In a rare mellow mood, The Nurse wonders whether all that murder and mayhem was worth it. She misses the outdoors. Sometimes when a visitor from the outside world wafts past her cell she can almost taste it. A tantalising whiff of oak tree. Sun-heated sheep-gnawed grass. The pleasure / pain of sunburn after a strenous hike on the year’s first really hot day.  

On the other hand, the metallic thrill of her amateur brain surgery exploits was hard to beat. To someone like The Nurse, screams of terror can’t really be surpassed by a robin’s song. Observing the caterpillar’s elegant progress up a stem doesn’t beat the thrill of bundling some poor sod into the back of a van. And walking the length of Wainwright’s majestic Coast to Coast Walk will never put her amateur trepanning exploits into the shade.  Once a monster, always a monster.

The Nurse, nevertheless, envies all you free people. Getting up at the weekend with a day in the glorious countryside to look forward to. Even just a walk in the park or round the block. Bastards.