Outside in the small courtyard, I was able to peer into a room which had remained unopened since the hospital
closed. The floor had collapsed and tiles and plaster had fallen into the room.
And in one corner, a table remained laid, waiting for a meal that would never come.
Smorgy found some forks and spoons in another room - and took some as a souvenir. And then mixed the
cutlery up with my own. So, occasionally as I’m enjoying a stinking hot curry, I’ll discover that the fork is
stamped “Hospital Property”. Nice.