See where this goes

I was therefore unexpectedly surprised (although that does sort of mean the same thing, doesn’t it? Unexpected - not ready to receive, and surprised - an unexpected moment), when I heard the short, sharp, sound of a car horn, at the front of the house. I mentioned earlier we did not ever own a car. For what ever reason. Whether my father never learnt to drive and didn’t want us to realise that fact, or probably because we couldn’t afford to buy one? Probably the later, though, where all the money went to, I sometimes wondered. Having eight children was a big part of that I am sure, but, I do believe there were some issues around certain leisure and entertainment activities engaged in by my father. Though the cost was not discovered for many, many years. But, right then, as I waited for the punishment my father was probably going to administer, I heard the sound we seldom heard at our house. A taxi. It had pulled up at the house and as usual in those days, was shortly followed by a knock on the front door. The door we seldom used. Yes, in those days the taxi pulled up to the front of the residence and the driver actually came and rang the bell or knocked, to see if you needed a hand with bags or anything. Good luck today even getting a taxi driver to put your bags into the boot of the car when getting one. 

The phone call my father had made (Blog - Sunday May 27^th 2012) must have been to call a taxi. This was very unusual as I have also said, taxis were usually only ever for going out for very, very special events or occasions. Or for my father returning late from an evening at his football club/bowls club/ horse track /special group/ works function…. You get the idea. So if a taxi was called, then stakes were suddenly raised concerning the welfare of my younger brother. Maybe things were worse than had been said by the ambulance officers who attended. Maybe….? The scenes from the early American (and the later copied by Australian television) doctor programmes, flashed through my head. Where the family wait in the waiting room and the doctor (you could always tell who that was as they wore the gown they had just operated in, minus the blood), walks out and says the name of the parents and….. pauses. Big dramatic pause as everyone imagines the worse. Then, depending on where the series was up to (or which actor wanted in or out), he would say ‘I’m sorry”, or, nod sagely and smile.  To which everyone would react with great relief or sorrow. It is a visual, which even then, was ingrained in my ‘visual cortex’. And on hearing a taxi had been called to transport my parents to the hospital, I wondered what the news from the doctor could be. And, the consequences likely to affect me. Was this why my punishment was being so delayed?

(Continued tomorrow)