Black Dog Blog

I forgot to say. A man collapsed on the pavement on Monday afternoon as I was walking from work. Some other passers-by got there first, fortunately because I don't have a mobile phone. I hung around uselessly (another less shy first-aider had turned up by that point). The guy smelt of alcohol; he was barely conscious, eyes open and attempting to speak. Grubby, scruffy clothing. Unshaved. He'd been seen staggering before keeling over.

In due course I went a little way along the road to watch out for the ambulance, guessing that it would go to the wrong place on the basis of the number of times the guy with the mobile had had to repeat our location. (What's hard to find about "on Oxford Road opposite the Cornerhouse"? Don't ask me.) Ambulance duly turned up, sirens a-go-go, and screamed… right past the knot of people, two of whom were waving at it, pulling instead into the train station nearby. It was fetched back, the paras picked up the guy and we dispersed.

This sort of thing doesn't happen often in this immediate area, in my limited experience. There are a few seemingly homeless guys I've seen irregularly begging along Oxford Road, but that's the first time one's fallen down. And it was good to see that plenty of people stopped immediately, and others asked in passing if they could help.

The cheerful blonde paramedic recognised the guy at once. Which was quite sad, actually.