Confidence Is Not All It Should Be I must have had callipers before I went to Chailey but not crutches...nor a wheelchair. I got around my village’s narrow cobbled streets by walking hand over hand against the cottage walls. If I got to a crossing or a drang (a narrow passageway) I would ask the first person I saw to hold my hands as I made the crossing and then I would continue on my way exploring until I made my way back home. No one gave it a second thought or worried about me because they would mention it to my mother, as they passed the door where we lived. When I first got to Chailey, having had various childhood illnesses and my tonsils out, and having outgrown my latest set of callipers, I was placed in a bed and I awoke to find my lower legs and feet in plaster. For the first time in my short life, I was unable to escape. It was unbearable. Not only could I not escape but they tried to get me to write with my very much weaker right hand. The teaching on JBW was minimal, the emphasis was on getting me straightened out and mobile. I remember when it was sunny that I was told to write my name out with my right (weaker) hand and I deliberately used up two pages writing my name in full. I was given a ball of plasticine to mould with my right hand (which I didn’t mind) until the time a wasp landed on the plasticine and stung me. I wasn’t quiet about it … but it did stop them insisting on my using that hand. When you are young and have no control over your life you either accept it or fight it. I tried both but neither made me happy. Dr Strode made me happy, he never was harsh nor brusque. He would smile at you and talk in a normal way with a smile on his face. He had a white mouse that was in his jackets breast pocket the first time I met him. I instinctively trusted him because he was gentle with the mouse as it climbed out of his pocket and down his arm and back again. I barely remember the sisters or nurses, only staff nurse Johnson was memorable. Mrs Spiers the physio was one of those I remember with fondness. When the leg plasters came off I was taken downstairs, piggyback fashion by a male nurse (which was the greatest fun) to a small pool that was downstairs, for exercises in water. I was stripped and dressed in a two-piece costume, that was made of terry towelling, and placed in the water. “Hold on the side” said Miss Spiers as she was called to the other side of the pool to answer a query. Well I was quite comfortable in the water, indeed so confident that I decided to cross the pool … after all if my legs were floating then surely I would too. I let go of the side and the terry towelling swimsuit decided to drag me down. So surprised was I that I didn’t even panic ... the water was clear and I could see miss Spiers’ legs across the other side. I didn’t panic but everyone else did. I was quickly dragged up to the surface with the terry towelling bottoms sinking away from me. I never had physio in the pool ever again. I believe it was called The Peter Pan Pool. Does anyone remember it?