With no plans for the school Easter holidays, I booked a last-minute long weekend for the family in a static caravan in Cornwall.
Leo played in a football tournament on Wednesday last week and woke up with a painful foot on Thursday.
‘I LITERALLY CAN’T WALK,’ he declared while miraculously walking into the kitchen. ‘MY FOOT IS DEFINITELY BROKEN!’
‘Poor you,’ I said, trying to sound as sympathetic as I could. ‘Did you injure it at football yesterday?’
‘I don’t know. It seemed OK yesterday. But today it’s the WORST PAIN I’VE EVER EXPERIENCED IN MY LIFE.’
Normally if someone declares this you should be quite concerned. But Leo is not known for having a high pain threshold and does have a history of debilitating injuries that come out of nowhere and then mysteriously disappear a few hours later.
‘Well, just take it easy today and hopefully it will feel a bit better tomorrow,’ I said.
He woke on the Friday morning - the day we were due to drive to Cornwall - and declared:
‘IT’S TWICE AS BAD AS IT WAS YESTERDAY. IT IS GENUINELY 100% BROKEN!’
‘Twice as bad as yesterday?’ I asked. ‘And yesterday was the worst pain you’ve ever experienced in your life?’
‘YES! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! I NEED TO GO TO HOSPITAL. MY FOOT IS LITERALLY ABOUT TO FALL OFF.’
‘Err… OK,’ I said, still doing my best to play the role of sympathetic parent and not laugh at his histrionics.
Spending three days in Cornwall with Leo and his foot that was LITERALLY ABOUT TO FALL OFF didn’t seem very fair on him, so we called into our local minor injuries unit on our way to Cornwall to get it looked at.
The minor injuries unit was closed.
So we drove for an hour and a half towards where we were staying for the weekend and stopped at the hospital in Bodmin instead. I dropped Rachel and Leo off, and then Layla, Kitty and I drove to a nearby supermarket to do a food shop for the weekend.
‘There’s an old, abandoned hospital near here,’ said Layla, on our way back. ‘Maybe we should go and have a look.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I just googled abandoned buildings in Bodmin.’
‘As you do,’ said Kitty. ‘Layla, you’re such a weirdo. Who googles stuff like that?’
‘Oh be quiet, Kitty!’ said Layla. ‘Nobody asked you.’
‘Alright, stop bickering. Where is this hospital?’
‘It’s three minutes this way. It looks amazing. St Lawrence’s hospital - formerly called the County Lunatic Asylum.’
‘Maybe we should leave you there, Layla!’ cackled Kitty.
Layla didn’t respond.
I followed Layla’s directions, and we passed through an ornate gateway and then drove several laps around an upmarket housing estate, with no sign of any abandoned buildings, just lots of fancy houses, some of which looked like they were developed from the old hospital buildings.
‘Er, when was the post you’re reading written?’
‘Oh,’ said Layla. ‘2011.’
‘Yeah, I think we are a bit late unfortunately,’ I said.
‘Great one, Layla!’ said Kitty. ‘That was a massive waste of time.’
‘You’re a massive waste of time,’ said Layla.
We drove back to the hospital (the real one) and parked up. I read a text from Rachel saying Leo hadn’t yet been seen by anyone.
I took Ludo for a walk around the hospital grounds and then got another message from Rachel to say they were waiting for an x-ray. Kitty and I took Ludo for another walk, and then I received the following two messages from Rachel:
Leo’s foot is broken.
Is there room in the van for a wheelchair?