From day 126 to 131 (not the bus)

Day 126. I have spent the day lying on my back staring at the clouds. I am listless and cannot get over the sense that this is it. It has been so long and such a struggle to keep going but I now just feel like I am slipping away. Part of me is shouting don’t give up but a larger part just wants me to shut my eyes and let it end. But as always is the way the need to fight for life is strong and so I have bent a nail, tied it one of the tarpaulin ropes and put maggots on the end of it. I’m not sure I have done this right as the maggots keep crawling off the tarpaulin but I can’t bear the thought of piercing them on the nail. Oooooh, a cloud that looks like Geoffrey from Rainbow.

Day 127. I didn’t hear the ship approaching in the night but the waves from it’s bow caused my boat to rock so violently that I was awoken by being thrown across onto the rollocks or is it spelt rowlocks – I just don’t know. What I do know it that one of the oars caught me right in the bowlocks and I spent a good hour in a ball sobbing as the lights from the ship disappeared in the distance

Day 128. Last food eaten, last maggots turned to flies, last feeling of hope. The dull pain that haunted me yesterday subsided in the night but didn’t bring the relief I had hoped for. They say that when you die your life flashes before you. I suppose that is happening slowly to me because of the slow slide down. Such memories coming back. Some extremely annoying like finally remembering where I left the coat I loved. It was in the back of Keith’s car when he drove off back to Peckham. Too late now, he will have sold that car. I lay back, pulled the tarpaulin over me and shut my eyes. My head is full of bells.

Day 129. The bells sounded louder as I opened my eyes. People in white are rushing around me. I can see one of them speaking to me but I can’t hear anything. It’s like they are in a cloud, a fog. She is pulling back my eyelids and shining a torch. The fog is clearing. Suddenly I am coughing uncontrollably and a dry pain tears at my throat. A man with glasses and a strange moustache takes my arm. A sharp pain and then the mists begin to roll over my sight again.

Day 130. Someone is speaking to me. It is so odd to hear a voice after all this time. I am slow to understand the words but she seems to be asking me something. I try to speak. She calms me down with a hand to my shoulder and speaks slowly. “Don’t try to speak Bobby, you have been out of it for a long time now. “Where am I,” I hear my voice rasp. “E Wing,” she says gently. “We don’t know your real name but all the nurses call you ‘Bobby E Wing’.”

Day 131. The Doctors have just left. I am haunted by questions which they refuse to answer. They say it will come back in time but I want to know now. Have I been alone for over 100 days on an island or is this some Dallas like dream. Also, if I am not ‘Bobby E Wing’ then who the hell am I. I try to force my brain to work but it is like a damp outboard motor, it just won’t kick in. I start to choke and a passing nurse puts water to my lips. Sleep.