peter's prang

making progress

• On Saturday and Sunday mornings we have walked along to the corner shop to buy the weekend newspapers. The first weekend he couldn't manage to carry a bag with the papers and a bottle of milk. Last weekend and the weekend before he has managed to go on his own on three occasions.
• Last week Peter tried out working again, redoing a translation he did some months ago as a test piece, to see whether he could manage physically, sitting in an upright chair, and how he'd manage intellectually. He then checked against his original translation. Phew, it was fine! So this week he's done a translation for a client and H, our administrator, has contacted all Peter's clients to say he'll be working part time.
• Yesterday afternoon Peter drove the Focus for the first time and managed fine (apart from a couple of lapses of attention!) We went out to the Blacksmith's cafe at belsay and had afternoon tea. He didn't find it alarming to be driving again. I was the one who was anxious!

day 9: wednesday 5th january - off to norfolk - the journey from hell

Much to-ing and fro-ing with the courtesy car company...they have a car, no they don't, they have an automatic people carrier, will it do? Yes, if that's the best they can find, yes, please! Peter is dubious but I've agreed.

Next, the Mersea tide situation to negotiate. The tide will be over, so they can't come until after high tide. They arrive mid-afternoon and I spend time producing all the correct documentation. I'm obviously still in shock as I keep taking out the wrong bits of paper. Then I have to remember what to ask...all the things one needs to know like where is the very fancy handbrake, lights, indicators, petrol (oh, it's diesel) and which side do you fill it, how do you unlock it, move the seats?

Once sorted, we load up, thank Janet profusely and set off. Driving a strange car is always challenging. And Peter doesn't want me to drive faster than 50. He's in considerable pain. And anxious. By the time we reach Ipswich it's getting dark, it's raining, the screen is greasy, it's rush hour...and as we set off up to Thetford I can barely see and everybody's rushing to get past. I'm timid, seeing every other car as a misile...because that's what they can be! And I have a rather aggrieved train of cars behind me - everyone knows the road and just wants to get home! Then Peter becomes very sick. I'm on a pitch black section of road and he is vomitting out of the car window. I pull into a farm driveway and find a bucket in the back, chucking all the bits and pieces out onto the floor and giving it to Peter. He'll travel onwards with it on his knee. Hard to pull out into the steady and speedy travic. By the time we reach Linda's Peter is in poor shape. But so relieved to be there.

Linda gives me her room so I can have all our belongings there. She has a folding mattress in her hobby room and Peter, the sofa or armchair in the living room.

day 6: 2nd january - getting our stuff

I've been able to amass enough information to be acceptable as the owner of the Shogun, having spoken to someone of more senior standing than the first, who wanted the documents that are filed away in Newcastle.

Kathy and I drive to get them, stopping on the way over so that we can fill Dougal's car with petron - that being bigger than Kathy's car. When we arrive, they take a letter from the hospital, which is addressed to Elspeth Sujatin Johnson,  and one of my business cards which just uses my Buddhist name - I tell them they can look at the website to see a photo to check that it's me. They also note my driving license, credit card etc.

Lots to load into Dougal's car. I'm reminded to take road tax disc and parking permit but leave radio. I video our car. I'm horrified by some of the sights we see and by their confirmation that Peter was lucky to be alive.

Kathy's able to take her SatNav to be reset nearby. Then I take her for a quick lunch and some food shopping. Next, back to Colchester for her to search for a hot water bottle (unsuccessful) and electric blanket (after a long search - successful). She is in 'preparing for CAT' mode and, having planned a quiet week of studying and getting ready for her stay in Wales for her next unit, is finding having us in the house stressful as she wants to read and to have her home straight again. This is difficult emotionally - I'm managing to keep myself together but am still in shock and have no means to travel onward. We don't want to impose and I feel helpless.

When we get home Peter is in tears - he thinks we have had another accident.

Having spent 2 nights supposedly in bed but finding it so uncomfortable that he spends much of the night walking up and down, Peter opts to spend the night on the sofa.

collecting the car

I'm jumping ahead here to what happened today - Kathy drove me to the Vehicle Recovery depot to look at our car and to unload everything in it - and there was a lot! Christmas presents received and not yet delivered, two suitcases, lots of Rachel's bedding which we were meant to give her yesterday, sleeping bag and travelling mattress, all the extra things that one takes on a journey when it may be snowy....

Our car looks barely touched, though the same can't be said of the car that crashed into us twice, the second time when shunted into and under us when hit by the third vehicle.

Apparently the recovery guy got into our car, turned the key, car started first time and he was able to drive it up onto the lorry, dragging car 2, still trapped under the rear, with it! Look at the relative damage.

 

the second silver bullet

A silver Focus has travelled towards both cars (and we stll have hazard warnings flashing), like the first car, having passed a couple of the lit signs warning of the accident ahead of us, brakes have jammed and it has skidded and hit the Clio .

But at this point all I know is that we've been hit again. And there's silence. I shout Peter's name repeatedly. No reply. I'm so frightened for him. Why isn't he answering?

I don't know whether to get out of the passenger seat, into possible oncoming traffic in the right-hand lane. Or whether to take off my seat belt and crawl across and out of the driver's side...risking the consequences if we are hit again.

Then a Highways Agency Serious Incident van passes us on the left, parking about 20 feet ahead of us. Presumably it was on the way to the accident ahead of us, as there hasn't been time for them to have been notifies about us.

Someone from the van appears at the driving side, supporting Peter. What relief! He had been knocked by the car behind us as the new arrival had shunted it into us. Not trapped between two cars, which would have killed him.

Peter is shivering violently as he is helped back into the driving seat - shock and cold. I find a fluffy jacket from behind the seat and wrap him up, then call the police and the ambulance.

the first silver bullet

Peter climbs from the car and walks back along the narrow central reservation to find that we have been struck in the rear by a silver Clio, the impact from which has pushed us forward a number of feet so there is a gap between vehicles (this gap is to prove signicicant).

Peter comes back to me and I find envelope and pencil so he can take the details of the car which struck us and the driver. Off he goes to do so, returns, takes my iphone to photograph the car.  I take my seatbelt off so I can pick up the satnav from the floor - then i replace the seatbelt. Then I phone Kathy to explain that we'll be a bit late for supper. By now it must be 3 minutes or more from the impact. Peter is standing at the edge of the central reservation to the side and behind our car and to the side and front of the Clio.

 

.....CRASH

 

Another car has crashed into the Clio, pushing it into our rear and jerking us forward again...

the journey begins...

Starting before the event: we travel safely and easily to Peter's sister, Linda, on Christmas Eve and then spend a lovely Christmas Day with her. Onwards to London on Boxing Day, taking a new route through London.

Tuesday 28th December....we are at Robin and Halina's, having had a happy day on the Monday with extended Brunning family. Time to leave, car packed to gunwhales, and we are delayed by a flat battery (I left the lights on after taking Simon home the evening before). Split second timing plays a part in all our lives, as does space. A moment here, a few inches there and all could be avoided...or so much worse.

We are travelling north, towards Colchester, on the A12. Light signs appear, warning us that there is an accident ahead, beyond the A130 junction. We see another sign, then a sign to tell us that we are approaching that junction. When the junction appears ahead of us we see tail lights of stationary vehicles and of others braking. We are in the right hand lane, others are driving in the left hand lane and many more, who presumably know the area, are peeling off to the A130. Peter brakes gently and comes to a stop, well behind the stationary cars ahead. He puts on the hazard warning lights.

 

........CRUNCH

 

An impact from behind. We are knocked forwards a few feet.