Medical emergencies and community spirit

I have many skills in addition to floristry which you might find surprising; politician, comedienne, antiques dealer, blogger, historian, gin-drinker, chicken-keeper, book-clubber, star of regional radio and tv, ballroom dancer and now I can add proudly add ‘Medical Professional.’ Well, maybe not professional exactly as I’ve had no training , but I can be relied on to create a crisis out of the smallest medical incident, turning the tiniest paper-cut (which I know can be extremely painful) into a life-limiting condition.

This week, my brother Phil, staggered into the shop, clutching a wad of blooded toilet paper to his head. I immediately sat him down and prised away the tissue which had now stuck to the minute trickle of dried blood, just visible between the furrows in his ‘Charman Brow.’

As I flapped my arms about like a pheasant being flushed from the bush, Annemarie whipped out the shop first-aid box, threw open the lid and selected the correct size plaster.  She was about to apply it when Phil suddenly felt faint, sliding off the stool and on to the shop floor!

I promptly bundled him into the Flower Shop van and whisked him off to A&E dreaming of an hour (or five)  alone with my kindle in a hospital waiting room, leaving Ruth, Becky and Annemarie to hold the floral fort.


John should have been at home, recovering from a severe case of man-flu, but given the choice of staying at home and clearing up after our elderly, incontinent dog who now has to wear a nappy and updating the shop accounting programme  in the cold, draughty back corner of the shop, guess which one he chose?


I was also nursing an injury of my own, someone almost got my thumb ribboned and bowed up in their Christmas wreath. You may wonder why florists tend to be women, that’s because florists need to be masters of multi-tasking; snipping and placing flowers & sprigs, talking to customers, sipping coffee/wine, tying bows, spraying things gold, adding snow, taking orders and deliveries all while adjusting ones underwear. So it’s easy to see how I could accidentally lose a finger or thumb. Luckily this time it was just a flesh wound (turn away now if you are at all squeamish).


By the end of the week, I started to feel the tiniest bit FESTIVE!!!

We had been asked to SPRUCE UP (literally) the Oddfellows Arms  with some festive flowers, swags and garlands. Lacking the use of a thumb meant that I could unfortunately, only offer my artistic direction. All the work had to be carried out by my two trainees the ‘Delightful Daisy’ and the ‘Ever Reliable (and extremely patient) John.’



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