A seat belt digs into my shoulder.  The wheels of my chair are clamped to the ambulance floor.  I rub my eyes against the glaring blue light.  I yawn.  Even the kitties had sleepy faces this morning.  My tummy rumbles.  My breakfast is in my rucksack, out of reach.  We left two hours ago.  Where are we?  I’m going to be late.  I need to get to my appointment.  Where have the hospital drivers gone?  Are they lost again?  I try to peer out of the window.  It’s grey.  It’s gloomy.  We’re in the middle of a housing estate, goodness knows where.  And then I see it.  TIVENDALE.  It’s the block of flats named after my Great-Grandfather, Thomas Tivendale, Mayor of Hornsey 1951-2.  I’m home.  I’m present.  I’m where I’m supposed to be.  I’ve uncovered a little gift and I cannot help but smile.Read More