While out and about on the Streets of LBFville, we were hailed by a couple of teens, supporting a third, semi-conscious, mate. They wanted help getting him up, so they could get him home. This is, in itself, admirable.
The mood was spoiled somewhat when they stopped worrying about him, and started begging for ciggies when we went over.
Info was fairly sparse, but it was apparent he had drunk ' a lot', and was sparko. Try as I might, I couldn't raise a peep out of him. Getting him home seemed increasingly ambitious.
As always in situations like this, a crowd gathered.They were all drunk too, and not really a great help.
By this time, I was making some progress at the head end, and he was beginning to respond to my less than gentle ministrations.
Suddenly home didn't seem such a far off dream after all.
I tried to engage his friends in this idea, but, the crowd told me, an ambulance had been called.
"Don't worry", they said, pointing to one of their number, "he's a first year medical student, at Oxford"
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. The 'casualty' was breathing well, and beginning to stir; an ambulance was en-route, and I had been trumped.
I left them to it.
No comments:
Post a Comment