Midnight moth

Here’s Barry Edge with another poem – this time concerning an incident that the OVF editor would rather forget…

Barry Edge writes…

Stoke-on-Trent born Rob Fielding lives in Aylesbury with his wife Joanne and three children – Freddie (nine), Betsy (six) and Meg (four). He is the founder/owner of www.onevalefan.co.uk – the largest independent website for the Port Vale Football Club.

Stoke-on-Trent born Barry Edge lives in Kewdale, Western Australia with his wife Ann and is a regular contributor to www.onevalefan.co.uk

On the 10th August, 2014 Rob attended the specialist surgery ward at Oxford’s John Radcliffe Hospital.

Why? Read on and Barry will reveal all:

Midnight Moth

The events that you’re about to read
Took place not long ago
And they’ve even grabbed the headlines
For all the world to know,
They’re featured in the UK press
Plus other far off climes,
‘Downunder in Australia
And in New York Times

It was in the midnight hours,
His family fast asleep,
He was reading editorials
For deadlines he must meet,
His eyes were somewhat bleary
But his sinuses were clear
Until he was distracted
By a moth on his right ear

Involuntary he raised his arm
To swat that moth away,
But instead of getting rid of it
He might as well said ‘stay’,
That reaching out to brush away

Did not bring him luck,
Instead he pressed against his ear
And now the moth was stuck

He hurried south to hospital –
With buzzing in his ear –
Where the medics in Stoke Mandeville
His ear canal would clear,
But no matter what they did –
No matter how they tried –
That pesky moth kept buzzing
For three hours ‘til it died

‘We’re sorry Mister Fielding
Our efforts were in vain,
And ‘though we know you’re suffering
You’ll have to come again,
We’re giving you some tablets
To keep that twitch at bay,
And then you’ll need more surgery
In three days from today’

He was nauseas and tired –
Of sleep he had been robbed,
And though the buzzing had now stopped
His inner ear still throbbed,
A cab was called immediately
So he could journey home,
But the chatter of the cabbie
Was mumbled like a drone

The agony, the restlessness,
The dull continuous ache,
And he just knew right there and then
A promise he would break,
Yes, there was a family wedding
Lined up for that weekend,
So with a sad and heavy heart
Apologies did send

Then on the Sunday morning –
And feeling somewhat low –
To the ‘Hospital John Radcliffe’
In Oxford he did go,
‘It will only take ten minutes sir
Then you’ll be on your way’
But little did he realise

It would be a longer stay

What happened next will stay with him
Until the day he dies,
And even when he thinks of it
Bring tears to his eyes,
He’ll remember every minute –
Of that he’s in no doubt,
For it seemed to take forever
That dead moth to pull out

They produced a tiny funnel
Two centremetres wide,
And when informed what happens next
His caution could not hide,
His ear canal was straightened
And widened to his drum,
It was ninety painful minutes
Before the job was done

A tiny pair of forceps
Was used to seek and find
Then take away that blasted moth –
To give him piece of mind,
And he tells us he remembers
The moment when it stopped
Was like stepping from an aircraft
‘Cus both his ears just popped

He’s delighted once again
His sinuses are clear,
And the moth that caused him grief
Is now a souvenir,
And if you ever visit
Escorted you will be
By Freddie, Betsy and Meg
Their new found ‘pet’ to see

They’ll take you to their living room
And point excitedly
And give their version of events
In sibling rivalry,
So if you’re in the neighbourhood
Give Rob and Jo a shout
And ask if you can call and see
What the fuss was all about

Barry Edge
Western Australia
October 19, 2014