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storiesbyjes2g · 7 years ago

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Time in Willow Creek: 2 years, 8 months

For three months, Hillary and Juliana fought about her dress for the gallery’s grand opening. It was a black-tie affair, and Juliana was the main attraction. People from all over Oasis Springs–and beyond–would come to see her work and praise her name. The press would be there snapping pictures and begging for interviews. This would probably be the biggest night of her life, and she wanted to wear a simple dress? Not on Hillary’s watch. She picked out sparkly, elegant evening gowns worthy of the woman of the hour, but Juliana turned them all down. Either they were “too much” or she felt too exposed. Poor thing. Hillary thought she had finally come to grips with her own femininity, but she still had a long ways to go. She marveled at how Americanized Juliana had become while so much old-world Monte Vista remained. She had to explain to her over and over again that no one would lose their head over the dress. People would look at her and say, “Wow! She’s beautiful,” and not, “Whoa, why is she showing so much skin?” Juliana needed to be the most gorgeous woman in the building. All eyes would be on her all night, and she couldn’t disappoint them.

After she accepted her beautiful fate, she settled on a dress and Hillary couldn’t have been more excited. It was one of the first ones she tried on, and she looked amazing. The others were gorgeous but looked more like something she would wear a ball or some fancy gala with dancing. They were so flowing and had long trains. The venue was much too small for that kind of dress anyway. The one she selected was perfect. It hugged her in all the right places but still flowed. The halter style exposed her shoulders and back, and she looked so sexy but still elegant. If Kevin’s eyes didn’t pop out of his head, something was bad wrong with that man.

Juliana had so much hair, and Hillary wasn’t sure she could do it justice. Besides, she had to get herself and the baby ready and wouldn’t have the time to do Juliana’s hair and makeup, so she recommended a salon for her hair and agreed to do her face. Shortly after finishing up, Kevin arrived in a limousine to pick her up.

Juliana was terrified almost to the point of regret. Nothing about this situation was familiar. Why did she ever think this would be a good idea? Her whole life, she dreamed of showcasing her work in a gallery, but none of her dreams ever looked like this. She didn’t look like a movie star, arriving by limo dressed to the nines. She wasn’t accosted by people wanting to know her entire life story. So much had already been put into this including much of her dear Kevin’s money. It was too late to back out. Too late to admit she would much rather continue dreaming about it than actually going through with it. Maybe she would be happier doing something simpler with her life. Perhaps she could go to school, get a degree, and work as a librarian in her own library.

“You look amazing, Juliana.”

She flashed a quick grin and continued concentrating on not crying. Hillary would kill her if she did.

“Are you ok?”

She started to nod but shook her head.

“You’re scared.”

She nodded.

He scooted closer and draped his arm around her shoulder. “It’s ok to be scared. This is a big night! I’m a little nervous myself, honestly.”

“You are?”

“Sure. This is new for me too. I’m mostly excited but still a little nervous. But, that’s ok. It’s normal to be scared.”

“There will be so many people.” That was the only way she could describe how she felt. Honestly, her feelings were conflicted. While she always dreamed of people seeing her work in a gallery, she never wanted to be in the gallery while people gawked at and discussed her work. Every painting had a little piece of herself in it, and experiencing a bunch of people staring at them would feel like being naked in front of a crowd.

“I know. But the family will be there. And the art club too. I’m sure there will be plenty other faces you’ll recognize. Just pretend like you’re talking to the donors again, or you’re back at the town hall meeting. You were awesome then, and you’ll be even more amazing tonight.”

He kissed her cheek. She hoped he was right.

For the rest of the ride, he kept her mind occupied, and she appreciated it. When they arrived, they found Karli doing exactly what they paid her to do and what she did best: handling everything. She directed the bartender and pianist on where to set up and looked fabulous and confident; they were so lucky to have her. Honestly, they had no reason to arrive so early with her in charge. They could have arrived late like celebrities and wade through throngs of people, waving at them on their way in, but it wasn’t their style. Kevin wanted to greet people as they arrived especially because they had no idea who would attend apart from their own friends and family. They toyed with the idea of making it a private event, but that would fuel the fire of the people who opposed them in the first place. The gallery wasn’t some exclusive members-only club, and the grand opening shouldn’t have been either.

Jase and family arrived much later than anticipated and hoped they didn’t miss anything important. Abigail had missed one of her naps and made dressing her a painful experience. The child didn’t enjoy wearing socks, so putting on tights caused a huge ruckus. The only reprieve from the dressing saga was her hair. Everyone had been surprised to see how curly it was when it began growing out. The Humphries had hair straight as an arrow, so the curls must have come from his Latin genes, compliments of his mother. Hillary put a couple of barrettes in it and called it a success.

Harold offered to drive, but Jase suggested they take a cab. Because they were so late, all the good parking would probably be gone. Besides, an open bar awaited them.

When they arrived finally, Kevin was at the door speaking with a tall, blonde guy. Or, maybe his big hair made him look taller.

“Hey guys,” Kevin said when he noticed them. “I’m glad you made it! Marq, this is Juliana’s friend Hillary and her family.”

Jase felt weird about not being introduced by name, but maybe Kevin didn’t know what to call him; they hadn’t announced their relationship yet, so he probably didn’t know.

Blondie took Hillary’s hand and kissed it, sending a wave of panic over Jase. “Well, hello there, beautiful. I didn’t know Juliana had such stunning friends.”

Jase’s stomach dropped. That moment…that scene…it was the thing he had been waiting on. He didn’t realize it until then but saw it so clearly. The reason he hesitated to trust Hillary for so long was that history repeated itself over and over, and it was just a matter of time before it came back around again. They were always in a good place right before some tall, modelesque dude came along and stole her attention. How could he have been so stupid? She declared her love for him and made him trust her, and he let her in again. He wouldn’t be able to recover this time.

“Nice to meet you too,” she said as she clung to him.

“Hello there, little lady! Aren’t you pretty!”

“This is our baby, Abigail,” Hillary said, smiling at Jase.

The blonde douche finally realized he existed and introduced himself. “Marquis Girard, but you can call me Marq.”

“Jase. Nice to meet you.”

Marq grinned at him. “I know you’re a cool dude because you know gray is the best color for a tux, amiright?” He slapped Jase on the shoulder and laughed.

Kevin shook his head. “I swear you’re the only idiot who laughs at his own jokes. Don’t mind him, guys. Welcome, enjoy, and when you’re ready for the bar, it’s on the patio.”

Harold wandered off just before Kevin introduced them to that blonde yuppie. He didn’t go there to meet a bunch of people he would never see again. He came to see what Juliana had been doing for the past two years. Though she lived in his house, he respected her privacy and never went into her room. He knew she painted well but never saw for himself. Naturally, he would have preferred to go to the gallery sometime during the week after the party, but it would be important to Juliana that everyone went to this fancy event. He found her in the corner talking to some people and didn’t expect to see her looking so fancy. That dress had Hillary written all over it, and he snorted to himself. She looked so comfortable though. Apart from that one time he went to the library, he had never seen her outside the home where she was soft-spoken and submissive…unless Hillary pissed her off. This grown-up version of the scared foreign girl he used to know was a refreshing surprise.

She waved at him when she noticed, and he waited for her to finish her conversation.

“You made it!”

“Mmm hmm. We’re here.” He nodded toward Hillary and Jase.

People kept trying to get her attention, so he said what he needed to say. “So this what you been doing, huh?”

She grinned. “Yes.”

“My. Well…it’s mighty fine. I’m proud of ya, and Harriett is too.”

Her eyes glistened from tears moving in. “Thank you, Harold.”

He grabbed her hand and patted it before leaving her alone.

“You want something to drink?”

“I’m good,” he said a bit more tersely than he planned.

“What’s the matter? You want me to take her?”

“No, no, I got her. You enjoy your friend’s event.”

She looked a bit disappointed like she knew something was wrong and wanted to know what it was. “She’s busy. We can talk to her later.”

He walked around to the other side of the gallery, and she followed him. Abigail got a bit antsy, so he put her down.

“Do you think it would be fun to hang out with Kevin and Juliana? We could go to one of those places where you drink wine and paint.”

The randomness of her statement made him laugh, disarming him a little. “You don’t even like painting.”

“I’ve never tried! Besides, don’t they tell you what to paint with numbers or something?”

“Probably.”

Abigail began babbling and pointing to someone in the corner. He had no clue who they were or why she would be interested in them. “Y-yeah, ok, Abbie. We can talk to them later, ok?”

When she couldn’t go do whatever she wanted to do, she fussed. Jase got nervous. Not only were they in public, and he didn’t want to be that guy who couldn’t control his kid, but also Hillary would step in proving that he couldn’t handle his kid, giving her more reasons to keep her. He wanted to prove that he could take care of the girl just fine without her, but so far, he was failing.

“Don’t you want to look at Juliana’s pictures? They’re so pretty.” He scooped her up, but it proved to be a mistake.

The girl screamed and carried on, telling everyone in the place that her bedtime had passed. In the corner of his eye, he saw Hillary not smiling as bright as before, but not stepping in either. She wanted him to succeed even at the expense of her embarrassment. At that moment, he realized his feelings from before were all wrong.

“She’s tired,” she said as if to give him a helpful hint.

He snorted. “That makes sense. She fights me every night around this time.” He didn’t want to admit defeat, but the fact of the matter was he hadn’t been able to get her to cooperate at bedtime for the past few months. She loved her daddy, but for some reason, she did not appreciate him at night. “Here…take her.”

“Ok, sweet pea. Ok, ok. Shhhhh.”

And just like that, she calmed down. Hillary rubbed her back and rocked with her. “Why do you always fight daddy, hmm? That’s not nice.”

Gosh, she was so beautiful. She didn’t give herself enough credit, but she was a natural with children. She did so many little things that reinforced over and over again how there could only be one woman for him. After all those years of trying to make her see how perfect they were for each other, despite how wrong his approaches were, she finally chose him. He felt ashamed for thinking she would throw away what they had for some cute faces. Marq used to be her type, and she would have been all over him two years ago. Even after flirting with her, she remained professional and showed him who she belonged to. They also ran into her friend, Jesse. She seemed enthusiastic about seeing him, but that was just her way. Despite being glad to see him, she kept her eyes on Jase the whole time.

Actually, she stayed close to him all night, checking on him and making sure he was ok. Never once did she look longingly at the other guys. She chose him. Honestly, she chose him a long time ago, but he never had an opportunity to see it in action before. The carrot dangled in her face, and he got a little spooked, but she didn’t bite. He had her, and they were in it together for the long haul; he was certain of that now.

Juliana had much more fun than she imagined. To her surprise, she knew many of the people who came. All the Humphries were in attendance along with the art club and Selina. A few of the library’s donors also came. Branson Mello, his wife, and the Fonescas all happened to live in Oasis Springs and thought it was a coincidence that the gallery had the same name as her. Juliana overheard Hillary speaking to a woman who turned out to be her doctor. Kevin said they lived across the street from him. She recognized a few faces from the town hall meeting including the anxious reporter. He cleaned up very well, she had to admit. He behaved much more professionally, so she agreed to an interview. If Kevin saw them together, she would never hear the end of it.

With all the socializing, and standing in those heels, Juliana grew weary and hoped the party would end soon. She needed a few moments to regroup and enjoy some quiet, so she snuck around to the covered porch on the side of the building. She forgot how cool the evening spring air in Oasis Springs could be. Maybe it was because she usually had on more clothes. Whatever the reason, she caught a chill and attempted to go back inside.

Kevin met her at the door. “Oh, there you are. I’m gonna make the obligatory speech and then wrap this up. Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

He motioned for her to come with him while he found Karli and asked her to usher everyone outside. “You look like you had fun tonight.”

She smiled confidently. “I did.”

“I see your boyfriend found you too.”

She rolled her eyes and he laughed. People poured out of the building and spilled onto the patio and lawn.

“We appreciate each and every one of you for being here on this very special night. Galleria Sepulveda is not just an art gallery. It is the fulfillment of dreams.”

“It is also a great example of how dreams can come true with hard work and dedication. Not just dedication to your craft, but dedication to your dream. Juliana and I met in a bar almost three years ago.”–some people laughed–“I know…I can hardly believe it myself. We were both there for the first time, and we were looking at the artwork. I said to myself, ‘now there’s a kindred spirit.’ Heh, if you would have told me then what great friends we would become and how invested I would be in this young girl who could barely speak Simlish,” he turned toward her, “and how deeply in love I would fall three years later with the woman she would become…I wouldn’t believe you.”

His words never ceased to affect her, and it got really hard to keep from crying.

Realizing he got off track, he turned back to the audience to finish. “Three months ago, we first opened our doors quietly to get things in order. Now we welcome you to come and see and enjoy what Juliana has spent the last two years doing. She is an amazing talent–a natural talent. Despite how many talented artists we’ll showcase, Juliana’s work will always have a home here.” Applause echoed off the building. “Juliana, do you want to say anything?”

She nodded. “I didn’t know so many friends would be here. Thank you for being here. To the art club, I learned to express in different ways from you. Thank you for the friendship. The Humphries are my family. They took me in and cared for me when I had nothing. I don’t know where I’d be now without them. Thank you for the love.” She turned to Kevin. “And Kevin…” The words got stuck in her throat, and an onslaught of tears assaulted her cheeks. “I love you.”

She fell into his chest as the crowd said “awww” and applauded even louder than before.

“I love you too,” he said, holding her as she cried happy tears. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

She came out of his arms, wiping her face and hoping she didn’t look like a raccoon. “Yes, I’m ready.” Hillary probably cringed, but at least her work lasted for the entire night.

Kevin grabbed her hand and waved to the crowd. “Goodnight, everyone!”

They piled into the limo and sighed in relief as their backs hit the plush, leather seats.

“Are you glad it’s over?”

“Yes, but I liked it.”

She placed her head on his shoulder, and he grabbed her hand. “I’m glad.”

The words she attempted to say earlier were released. “You do so much for me. Sometimes…I feel I don’t deserve it.”

“If there is anyone on earth who deserves to have everything, it’s you.”

She chuckled. “I don’t think that is true, but…thank you for everything.”

Juliana - Chapter 134 The Grand Opening - It's finally time for the grand opening of Galleria Sepulveda! Time in Willow Creek: 2 years, 8 months For three months, Hillary and Juliana fought about her dress for the gallery's grand opening.

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pofacedpoetry · 7 years ago

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GENERATION GREED

The new “Abigail’s Party” generation: Won’t drink tap water! Bottle or spritz Has to be “bubbly” or “fizz”! Just call it what it bloody is! No school disco – High School Prom Hummers & Limos, dresses cost a bomb Can’t cook,won’t cook,dine out posh Must keep up wi ‘t Jones’s, what tosh Hairdressing Queens & Estate Agent Kings Footballer WAG envy, Nando’s for wings Covered…

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#abigail&039;s party #abigailsparty #kardashian #khloe #kim #kourtney #kylie #mike leigh #nando&039;s #party #pofacedpoetry #prom #shellac

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fortunatelylazypeach · 7 years ago

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RAPSCALLION MAGAZINE - THEATRE REVIEW: Back to the future in the soiree from hell with the new middle classes of England in 1977

RAPSCALLION MAGAZINE – THEATRE REVIEW: Back to the future in the soiree from hell with the new middle classes of England in 1977

Love to hate you baby: Beverly and Laurence in Abigail’s Party

Abigail’s Party. Alma Theatre, Bristol

Set in the 1970s Mike Leigh’s Abigail’s Party is still a play about us. Fashions transform and house prices rise, but people don’t change that much. It is the reason why the tragic comedy about the soiree from hell that gripped the nation in 1977 continues to make us feel uncomfortable with its…

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#abigail&039;s party #adam elms #alma tavern theatre #anna friend #bristol #diane lukins #harry mottram #jennifer jope #mike leigh #rapscallion magazine #ryan gilks #schoolhouseproductions

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popverse · 7 years ago

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The Party: You could consider murder

Janet has been promoted to the Shadow Cabinet after years of graft and campaigning in the party. To celebrate the occasion, she is hosting a little soiree with some close friends and their partners. However, her lately distracted and dispassionate husband Bill has his own announcement to make on the night, which may cast a bit of a shadow over the evening.…

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#Abigail&039;s Party #Bruno Ganz #Cherry Jones #Cilian Murphy #dinner party #Emily Mortimer #Kristen Scott Thomas #minister #Patricia Clarkson #Sally Potter #Timothy Spall

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snicole5087 · 8 years ago

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Theatre Royal Bath Productions has today released production photography of Mike Leigh’s Abigail’s Party starring Amanda Abbington and directed by Sarah Esdaile. Celebrating the 40th anniversary of the classic comedy, the production opened at Theatre Royal Bath and has its official opening night for press on Thursday 6 April at Oxford Playhouse before continuing on its UK Tour and to London’s West End.

Sherlock star Amanda Abbington will play Beverly. Ms Abbington will be joined by Ben Caplan as Laurence, Rose Keegan as Susan, Charlotte Mills as Angela and Ciarán Owens as Tony.

The drinks party from hell begins when Beverly and estate agent husband Laurence invite round new neighbours, Tony and Ange, along with nervous divorcee Sue, jittery about the bash her teenage daughter, Abigail, is throwing up the road. As that party gets out of hand, this one too descends into chaos.

Amanda Abbington is best known for her television work, with recent roles including ‘Mary Morstan’ in Sherlock, ‘Miss Mardle’ in Mr Selfridge and ‘DS Jo Moffat’ in Cuffs.

Ben Caplan most recently starred in Hedda Gabler (Salisbury Playhouse) and as Eddie Kassner in Sunny Afternoon (Harold Pinter Theatre). He is also known for his role as PC Peter Noakes in the first five series of BBC’s Call The Midwife.

Rose Keegan’s stage credits include Alan Ayckbourn’s Bedroom Farce (Aldwych Theatre) and The Revengers’ Comedies (Strand Theatre), Cunegonde in Candide and Peterchen in Sugardollies (Gate Theatre).

Charlotte Mills played Tanya in the original production of Jerusalem at the Royal Court, then at the Apollo Theatre West End and The Music Box Theatre on Broadway. Other recent credits include The Two Gentlemen of Verona at Shakespeare’s Globe and The Winter’s Tale at the RSC.

Ciarán Owens’ theatre work includes Candide, Titus Andronicus and Mad World My Masters for the Royal Shakespeare Company and Oh! What A Lovely War (Theatre Royal Stratford East).

Sarah Esdaile directed Alan Bennett’s Talking Heads for Theatre Royal Bath’s 2015 Summer Season. She was Associate Director at West Yorkshire Playhouse where productions included Deep Blue Sea starring Maxine Peake, Death of a Salesman with Philip Jackson and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.

Theatre Royal Bath March 2017 Dress Rehearsal Abigail’s Party by Mike Leigh Directed by Sarah Esdaile Janet Bird / Designer Paul Pyant / Lighting Designer Lucy Cullingford / Movement Dance Amanda Abbington as Beverly Ben Caplan as Laurence Charlotte Mills as Angela Ciarn Owens as Tony Rose Keegan as Susan ©NOBBY CLARK +44(0)7941-515770 +44(0)20-7274-2105 [email protected]

Images released of Amanda Abbingdon in Abigail’s Party UK Tour Theatre Royal Bath Productions has today released production photography of Mike Leigh’s Abigail’s Party starring Amanda Abbington…

#Abigail&039;s Party #Amanda Abbingdon #Mike Leigh #Theatre Royal Bath #UK tour

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brianwelk · 9 years ago

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Rapid Response: Abigail's Party

Mike Leigh's ABIGAIL'S PARTY inspired Louis C.K.'s Horace and Pete. My Rapid Response:

At the beginning of “Abigail’s Party,” Beverly enters the living room of her home, opens a cabinet full of liquor, and pours herself a drink, her first of what will be many this evening. She’s wearing a low cut, salmon colored dress and a large, garish gold necklace beneath a frumpy Pageboy haircut that’s rounded perfectly above her eyes. In the course of this evening, she will turn out to be a…

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#Abigail&039;s Party #Alison Steadman #Mike Leigh

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drprunesquallor · 9 years ago

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We were scheduled to leave after the project meeting on Friday morning, but I had a patient with HONK. That’s the abbreviation for HyperOsmolarNonKetoacidotic coma. A type 2 diabetic lady had inexplicably stopped taking her medication. She was as dry as a crisp and sweeter than honey. Once I was happy she was on the mend, we could leave for the two hour journey to Pigg’s Peak. (Should this have been OINK rather than HONK?)

We stopped off at the town of Pigg’s Peak. It is big enough to have a Kentucky Fried Chicken outlet, but blink twice and you have missed it. Its claim to fame is being the marijuana capital of Swaziland. The local term for marijuana is “school fees”, rather than Swazi Gold. Police are always arresting people, usually old women or gogos, for possession of bales of dope. The growing conditions are perfect in the rolling, forested hills outside town, intercropped between rows of pines.

We didn’t buy any marijuana. My colleague was feeling the cold, so she bought something to keep her feet warm. That’s really sock-and-roll.

The Hotel & Casino was rather angular and impressive, with a huge automatic plate glass door, which slid back when you approached. Think Architectural G-Plan. Our rooms were not ready so we stashed our weekend bags behind reception and set out to explore. My colleague saw a group of gogos leaving the hotel and said, “Ha, Ian, they are your patients, who have followed you here!” Instead I reckoned that they had probably been playing in the casino with their ill-gotten gains from cultivating marijuana.

We soon met some other health workers, milling about at the entrance to the dining room. The workshop was supposed to start at 12 noon with lunch, but the maitre d’ regretted to inform us that lunch was not included. This was like a red rag to a bull for starving Swazi health workers. There was some rebellious talk of leaving now, getting the driver to turn round to pick us up, but the insurrection didn’t happen. The maitre d’ capitulated and allowed us access to the buffet.

The food was G-Plan too, typical dishes from the 1970s. Very Abigail’s Party, but with lots of meat and starch. It tasted great after the plain meals I had been eating in Manzini. Diners get a free can of soft drink with meals, but most people secreted their Fanta into their voluminous handbags rather than drinking it. I went back for fruit and dessert – a selection of cakes and some excellent peanut brittle stuff made with chocolate. (Maria, I need the recipe if you managed to get it.)

We were called upstairs to the conference room to start the workshop. The hotel has four floors and stairs were difficult for some of the traditionally-built Swazi nurses. Proceedings started at 3pm, just an hour behind schedule. After the prayer, we heard about the relationship between TB and HIV. Then we broke into four small groups for an activity called “cluster-based quality gap analysis”. Which is exactly what it says on the tin.

Our “cluster” was based in the underground cinema. We waited for 20 minutes before the IT people turned up with a laptop and projector. This time should have allowed us to chat and introduce ourselves to break the ice. But we just sat silently in the dimmed light, waiting to have our health centre data displayed for dissection on the screen. It was tedious. I even thought of popping out to make polite conversation with a poster of Angelina Jolie, dressed as Lara Croft in lederhotpanten.

The facilitator set up the projector and just… read… out…. the… slide. Very slowly. In a French accent. Every line. “Number of patients screened for TB – 1234. Percentage screening positive 10%, that’s 123.” There was no attempt to summarise, point out interesting facts, to compare / contrast one centre with another or draw the audience’s attention to an anomaly until I piped up. “Those figures are wrong. They don’t add up.” We had to get a data person from Measurement & Evaluation down into the twilight zone to explain it to us. It was a typographic error.

We were running late and still the facilitator kept droning on, stating the obvious. One slide showed every parameter was zero. “Number of children screened – zero. That’s zero percent. Number screening positive was also zero. Again, zero percent. Number of children starting treatment – zero, that’s zero percent, too.” I couldn’t stop myself from tittering. But I got my comeuppance. Someone had to be the cluster spokesperson to present possible solutions to the problems we had identified. Me.

As we were cluster B, I thought I was going to be the second speaker, so I would have some time to martial my thoughts. But cluster A had been dissolved when no one from the National TB Hospital turned up to lead the discussion. On TB.

By now, I should know how to do a presentation. I even teach people how to do presentations. But I was still a bit apprehensive facing over a hundred doctors, nurses, data wonks, epidemiologists and ministry officials as the first breakaway speaker. I usually start with a joke, but Swazis don’t always get my sense of humour.

I began by saying, “I apologise for my English, which I hope you will be able to understand. I speak the Queen’s version, not the King’s.” Tumbleweed moment, broken only by a screech of feedback from the microphone. Try again. “I apologise for not speaking much siSwati, but I’m the only Mlungu (white man) in the village. And as a Mkhulu (grandfather), I’m too old to learn to speak it.” That got a laugh. I spoke a bit about who I was and where I worked.

Meanwhile, someone was trying to connect a laptop to the projector to display our results, but when I turned to look at the wall, there was a screensaver of a beautiful African girl. I was on a roll now, and blurted out, “And this is my daughter.” Some of the audience took this seriously, but most burst out laughing.

“Not possible,” said one doctor.

“Ah, but I might have a Makwapeni (secret lover),” I replied. This brought the house down, and I had them eating out of my hand until question time.

First question: “So how do you propose to increase the numbers of patients producing sputum?”

“Well, we have sputum induction and gastric lavage. But at our clinic, it is the threat of anal lavage that gets our numbers up,” I replied, cheekily.

Our results were actually disappointing. I suspect this is because there are so many details to complete in the ledger (by a variety of different health workers) that we sometimes fail to record them. We are too busy treating people to record the minutiae of what we are doing. But without data, you’re just another person with an opinion (W. Edwards Deming).

What were the solutions to our failings? More health workers. More time to spend with patients at the start of treatment, explaining the advantages of compliance with medication. Making sure that equipment and drugs are always available.

At the end of the session, an assistant distributed the room keys. No rooms had been allocated to MSF. “Are you paying for the accommodation yourself, docotela?” she asked me. “No, I’m just a volunteer,” I replied. They eventually found me a room on the lower ground floor, past the life-size African figure chess set and the sweaty gym. “I hate it down here,” said Maria. “There are always drainage problems.”

In the room there was a notice by the window warning me not to open it because monkeys might invade. On the dressing table there was a ticket which offered to double my stake at the gaming tables from 50 Rand to 100 Rand (£5). This was not going to help me break the bank.

Breakfast the next morning was remarkable for the chips coated in cayenne pepper and mini fishcakes. Like most hotels, the omelette producer was extremely jovial as he mixed up the onions, tomato bits, peppers and ham on the hot plate before ladling over the beaten eggs. The Earl Grey tea was wonderful, a great start to the day.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur. My attention span is limited to about four hours, but we kicked off at 8:30am and didn’t stop until 6:30pm. At tea breaks, doctors would clap me around the shoulders and call me “Mkhulu” or josh me about having a “Makwapeni”. One naive chap asked me where I was from as I had said that I didn’t speak English very well.

The highlight of the evening was the Awards Ceremony. It was a hoot. A couple had been married in the room earlier in the day, so we just took it over, decor and all. The DJ was struggling to put a set together, mixing soul and gospel, and largely failing. The Master of Ceremonies was dressed in a sharp suit but the gift of his gab was sharper. He smooched along with the music, forced embarrassed ladies in their cocktail dresses to come up and dance or sing. Invited guests opened envelopes and read out the winners of the various categories, just like at the Oscars. Someone from the Ministry gave a speech, reading from his notes for almost half an hour while we were waiting for dinner.

I confess, I did sneak out every fifteen minutes or so to see Leicester City versus Manchester United on the megatelly in the Sports Bar. It was tense, especially after Schweinsteiger equalised just on the half time whistle.

MSF were first runners up, twice. “Yer get nowt fur cumin second,” I said to the doctor who had asked me where I was from, in my best Yorkshire accent. I ought to mention at this point that I was dressed in the fanciest outfit I have – a maroon Indian frock coat, with stock collar and gold braid (no one batted an eyelid). Just in case I got the call, I had my speech ready. “And finally, I want to thank Jamie Vardy for demonstrating what boundless energy, passion and self belief can achieve…”

The final morning dragged on to 1pm and, of course, being Swazis, we had to enjoy a last lunch at the buffet. The sun came out and the hotel grounds looked lovely, but we couldn’t stay to enjoy the atmosphere. Samuel, the driver, was on double time so we had to make haste back to Manzini. At least my belly was so full, I didn’t need to make supper.

NaHSAR at Pigg’s Peak Hotel & Casino We were scheduled to leave after the project meeting on Friday morning, but I had a patient with HONK.

#Abigail&039;s Party #Awards Ceremony #cluster based quality gap analysis #G-Plan #gastric lavage #HIV/AIDS #HONK #Jamie Vardy #Kentucky Fried Chicken #Lara Croft #Marijuana #sputum induction #Swazi Gold #Tuberculosis

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