Year Of The Appendix

A Memory of Mount Edgcumbe Country Park.

During that summer my family made a trip to stay at Mount Edgcumbe for a fortnight or so, my mum being a distant relative of the occupying family, so to speak. On the journey down the A.38, (no M5 then), I kept complaining about stomach (?) pains and was ordered to bed by our hosts the moment we arrived. (I must have been about fourteen at the time.) During that night the pain worsened and the local GP, the kindly Dr. Lewis was summoned 'at the double' to my bedside. Having informed Mum that I had developed appendicitis, she immediately reacted by stating I would be brought to a Plymouth hospital in the morning. '' No you won't, you will take him there right now, his condition is ACUTE! ''

Not quite as simple as it sounds, as by this time it was 2.30 a.m. and it required a very tactful phone call to mobilise the staff at the Torpoint Ferry to make ready for an emergency cross over. Just for little me! (I had rarely been the centre of attention in our family up to then..... you can rest assured I milked the situation for all it was worth for as long as I could.) Eventually, I ended up in Greenbank rather than Freedom Fields hospital, both institutions having now long since closed, I understand. Apparently I behaved like a right young twerp when I came-to after the operation. Why didn't anyone tell me you 'feel like death' when first regaining 'clarity' fom an anaesthetic? I know, I know.... all together now, aaah.

I think I remained at Greenbank for about 4 days and got to know one consultant quite well, a certain Dr. (Mr?) Waterfall.....yes, really. He was a most erudite gentleman and very amusing, regaling me with saucy tales of his medical experiences in Germany towards the end of the War. I returned to Mount Edgcumbe where I was duly fussed over and then ordered not lift heavy weights or be too active..... result!

Just before we returned home, a 'clutch' of seascouts from Perry Bar, Birmingham, who had been allowed to 'bivouac' in the grounds of Mount E., were invited up to the house itself for a sing-song around the piano kept in the hall. Guess who tinkled the ivories and led the singing? I was informed later he was a certain teen-aged Stevie Winwood, he of the white blues (?) voice, and later (!) past member of both the Spencer Davis group, Traffic (yeah!!) and still a superb solo performer. I cannot totally confirm this anecdote, but it makes for a good story in any case, especially when informing one of his many true fans; they are still legion and 'out there' I am pleased to report. Happy days. (Now, was it '61 or '62? Hmm.)

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