My Home From Home (ManxMan)

Chapter 15

14 October 1920

Dear Diary,

    Today marks one's first full week in Fir Creek, and it goes without saying that one's expectations have been rather exceeded. Whilst journeying out to this quaint little town, one couldn't help but be weary as to what the future had in store, but the more one sees and experiences, the more one feels a sense of being... at home...

    This past week has been nothing short of eye opening; thankfully the volume of patients at the surgery picked up as time passed. Mary says this sudden influx of patients is due to a few of the older ladies at church spreading the word that there is a 'handsome new English doctor in town'. Though I don't know about all that, I was pleased to meet more people and gain their trust and confidence as their physician; something that is absolutely vital in order to be a small town doctor. But I won't lie and say that it hasn't been terribly overwhelming to meet and keep so many new people safe; nonetheless it came as much comfort to me to know this town is filled with such warm and hospitable people.

    I've met Mr and Mrs Baker, who ironically enough own the bakery in town;  he'd come in to have a rash seen to. Emily, a kind hearted young blond and admirably clever entrepreneur who owns the only restaurant and bed & breakfast in town, came in for a paracetamol prescription due to menstrual pains. I've also had the pleasure of meeting he Mayor, Mr Yates and his family; Mayor Yates came in first with a shingles outbreak that led to his children catching Chicken Pox from him.  Mr Timmins, the town's greengrocer along with his wife and children had routine checkups. The McMurray sisters who are the town's very skilled dressmakers-come-tailors, and the surprisingly young but every charismatic Father Peter who is the vicar of the singular church in town ironically enough came in with a Bible cyst. I've also met a few of the lads who work at the mines, many of whom come in with minor mining-related injuries though I've noticed a few who have rather persistent coughs that I'll have to do a bit more inquiring into. 

   As the weather continues to grow colder and winter slowly edges its way across the plains, one finds that the frigid prairie winds easily penetrates the winter coats that I brought from home. But through it all one can't help but feel the figurative warmth of those around me keeping me shielded from the lonely winter chill. However the most welcoming of all Fir Creek's townsfolk would undoubtedly be Thomas and the boys It always warms my heart when Danny comes to say hello, or whenever I hold little Alfie in my arms and give him his bottle. But Thomas is a different story altogether...

    At university one was always told that dreams were merely the neurones in one's brain firing randomly whilst one sleeps. I can't help but grasp on to that concept for dear life to keep any semblance of sanity. For my dreams as of late have been absolute torture. All I see is Thomas, his smile, his perfect rugged body, his muscles that I'd only seen in Greek statues. 

He's perfection and though my mind tells me that there's no reason to think Thomas is one of 'my sort', my body and my hormones run absolutely mad at the thought of him. These thoughts torment me, because not only is he utterly unattainable, but these thoughts cloud my vision; And I can only hope that my little wretched heart may cope.

    For as I write you, dear Diary, I'm sat at my desk watching out the glass windowpane with the slightest frost built on the other side, watching as a pristine blanket of the purest white snow covers the world around me; the first snowfall of the year and most notably, my first encounter with the priorly forewarned Canadian snowfall. And though my body craves the heat of a strong, musclebound Adonis like the handsome Constable, my mind knows that my bed shall remain cold...

    Love, Henry.

 Henry slipped on his tweed winter overcoat on top of his suit, frowning at the sight of the falling snow outside his window; he'd been warned of how harsh the winters here in the prairies were, but he never expected this. His tweed winter coat with it's measly mink lined lapel certainly sufficed in the mostly rainy winters with occasional snow he was used to back home, but the way the snow seemed to accumulate here was like something he'd only seen in Christmas cards. It was beautiful, but terribly inconvenient considering he had a house call to make later that morning.