The remarkable Anita-Clare Field gave up A senior role in the publishing industry to be Director of Fundraising for London Air Ambulance. This poem gives us an extraordinary window into her time there. I am hugely grateful to her for guesting on my blog and I am privileged and honoured to be able to reveal to the world what a gifted writer she is. 

As time rolled on after my fathers very sudden death in January 2001 I became more and more disillusioned by everything, especially by the publishing company I’d been working for, for a few years. My grief magnified everything and for a while I thought I was drowning, I could barely function and after a year of fog I made a big decision. I decided that I’d hang up my publishing boots and go and use my commercial and business skills to benefit others.

I suddenly found myself standing on the roof of  The Royal London Hospital as Director of Fundraising at London’s Air Ambulance. It was the most humbling 14 months of my life, I saw life in the extreme. I met families, held their hands, cried with them, laughed with them and I learned so much. I learned about medical terminology like ‘claret’ and that it was the right thing to make breakfast if my colleagues were out on an early morning shout. I came to terms with so much during my time there.

One of the greatest things I learned was life is so very precious and that showing compassion and care to others is something I’ll never be able not to do and that the generosity of others when they are on their knees is simply amazing. I learned to deal with my own grief.

One day during my tenure my line manager at the time arrived for a meeting with potential donors in my office on the helipad and  she looked at the “two suits” and said “I keep telling her how lucky she is, how she’s got the best view in London” She was talking about my view of the city of London and south, all the way home to Crystal Palace. She was trying to appease after my finding yet another anomaly. In some respects she was right about the view, however, as I drove home that night, I thought about it more and when I arrived home that evening I wrote this about my view.

View from a roof

‘ I keep telling her she has the best view in London’

Just words, justification for the disorder,

What I see is different,

What I see is beauty,

Shining, glistening in the sunlight,

It’s reflection in the puddles left from the overnight rain.

It’s metal blades casting a shadow in the midday sun,

A haze in the distance obscuring the landmarks.

What I see isn’t materialistic or shallow,

not a status symbol.

What I see is life, cutting edge, vivid, stark, sometimes horrific images,

What I see is a different view everyday.

How am I supposed to be feeling?

lucky? grateful?

What I feel is pride and privilege,

What I feel is different, an opposing view, a different vision.

I do have the best view in London,

I do have the best view of this strange yet magical world,

but not because SHE says I should.