I thought about titling this post as “Camp Backhouse” but then that would lead to all sorts of rumours about that time I went fly-fishing. Instead — I have called this post “Family Field Trip 2017” — for it is the largest gathering of our sect of family since Granny’s funeral at Easter. It was really great to see everyone and ‘make memories.’ There were a few cousins who could not make it due to prior commitments but there was a good representation.

Me and Kathryn caught the bus to Ripon on Friday and mum cooked. We pegged it all the way to Derby down the M1. After a quick drink, we set up for the night.

…. I then realised I had left my medication in Yorkshire!

I called 111 and spoke to a couple of people after they had phoned me back. An appointment was made for the following morning at 0810 in the nearest town — there would be medication, just not that night. I messaged my brother on Whatsapp to tell him of the pickle I was in and he said to meet at breakfast as he had just rolled into the hotel with his wife and daughter. I was going to be spending a night in a hotel unmedicated!

I actually managed to sleep for a bit despite not having my medication — It was full of lucid, weird dreams that felt like reality. I am of the opinion you should not tell about your dreams in public so I will keep them close to my chest — but they involved a lot of celery and high-heels.

Morning came and I awoke tired — hot-footing it down to two plates of cooked breakfast and then whisked along the Sir Frank Whittle Way to Derby Emergency Health Centre — I was tripping balls by the time we got there and did not really enjoy the Abba that was being piped into the waiting area. I had an appointment and was seen prompt where I was issued my prescription — I really can’t fault the NHS for the help they gave me. They recommended that we head out to a retail park in my brother’s car.

Boots was the destination and Jas Dhillon was the super-pharmacist who bent over backwards to ensure that I got my help. She really was a star — I took her name and I will phone Boots HQ to praise her. She was ace and a Yorkshire lady too. Fair enough, Boots is not yet Nationalised and they do not pay their %%% of tax having relocated to Switzerland. But, Jas gave me hope that the company is more than just the decisions of its board members. She was a warm-hearted individual who put me at ease and took charge of the whole shenanigans. Whilst we waited for my script to get corrected, we went for a coffee and I told my brother, who I affectionately call Nobhead, where he went wrong with his driving. The coffee tasted good.

The rest of the day was spent at Heights of Abraham — not the best place for someone in smart shoes, symptoms of a psychotic relapse and with a bad knee — the first two were my fault, but I cannot take the blame for the bad knee. Geological, cable-car amazement was had by all and ‘memories were made.’

The highlight of the Saturday was the 21+ person meal. We all sat down at the restaurant at Breadsall Priory and tucked into a hearty meal — I was running on vapours after a rough night and had to leave earlier than The Norm (whoever he is).

Still plenty of vivid dreams — the next day we went for a stroll around an area of natural beauty & then we bid farewell to each other …. until next time.

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