Being a clown is a good thing to be.

I love being a clown. People think it’s just a job, but really it’s a way of life. It’s a philosophy.It's being gentle AND strong, and being vulnerable without being a doormat. I can’t speak for circus clowns, some of whom seem to like hitting each other on the head, but for us therapeutic clowns, an important part of our clowning is always maintaining a certain purity and innocence that will not allow us to hurt anyone's feelings, even each other’s.

I came across the following bit of writing, it was written about people who are emotionally healthy, but it also sums up so nicely what a good clown is. It makes we think we need more red noses in this world. Don't you agree?

"People who feel good about themselves do not exploit others and are not available for exploitation. People who feel good about themselves, far from exhausting or trying the patience of their acquaintances, exhibit a veritable feast of exciting, appealing characteristics that other human beings tend to find irresistible.

People who are self-accepting ..
laugh ..
listen ..
do not exploit others for their gratification ..
have energy ..
are more creative than people who hold themselves in low esteem ..
are tolerant of the changing moods of others ..
learn to live with what they cannot change ..
exude enthusiasm ..
project confidence ..
exult in the successes of their friends without feeling competitive or threatened ..
are sensitive to the needs of others ..
take appropriate risks ..
risk failure in order to find out what they have the right stuff for ..
often have an intriguing sense of depth or mystery about them ..
do not pretend to have all the answers ..
are realistically optimistic ..
do not ridicule the helpless or humiliate the weak ..
tend to make people they spend time with feel good about themselves ..
enjoy helping others and working to develop a sense of community ..
have a sense of purpose and develop the sense of a special mission in life ..
are able to turn their mistakes into lessons and begin anew.

Don't kid yourself; even people who exhibit most, if not all, of the above characteristics suffer periods of despair, disappointment and depression. Bad things do happen to good people, even those with a healthy sense of self-worth. But such people rebound."

- from "Why Love is not Enough" by Sol Gordon, PhD.

Clowning is serious work.

It’s not as easy as it looks! There are three main aspects of clown work (four if you count the nap).

1. Hygiene

This is a Very Important Part of hospital clowning, and the least fun. Before going to hospital, I have a headbath. I check my nails are clean, clip them short, and remove any nail polish. (Not that I wear nail polish, but if I did, I would. Remove it, I mean). Then I make sure EVERYTHING I need for the hospital is clean (my costume, bag, shoes, and my important medical equipment like my hammer, saw, and especially my laughter injection thingie). After I get back from hospital, there's more stuff to clean – I throw everything - clown costume, towels, hair bands, socks, hats, cloth puppets - into the washing machine. While that's whirling around, I have ANOTHER headbath. If there were any patients with infectious diseases or bad coughs, then I sometimes have a salt-water gargle, too. Afterwards I wash the rest of my equipment by hand - juggling balls, flutes, whatever, even the make-up brushes. I wipe down my bags, shoes, toiletries (cold cream, toner, talc, lotion) and make-up kit, with disinfectant. I even scrub the soles of my clown shoes with hot soapy water (hospital floors have GERMS). By the time I'm done with it, the laundry's done and I put that out to dry. Later, I steam iron my clown costume, and then put everything away in its place, usually wrapped in plastic packets (I'm so particular I even rinse out the plastic packets!) so that I'm all set for my next Clown Rounds.

2. Practice

Although a lot of my work is based on improvisation, I still have lots of things to practise, so that I have tons of fun stuff already stored in my nose for when I go to work: juggling, puppetry, music and song, storytelling. Some of the things I like to do are singing scales to keep my pretty voice fit, practise singing and learning new songs, (lullabies are good in the neo-natal ward, the little babies like them, and stop crying). I also have to practise scales on my recorder, melodica, and songs to play on them too. I like learning Shah Rukh Khan songs, because as you know he is the love of my life. I like singing and dancing to his songs at hospital. Everyone loves Shah Rukh Khan, but no one more than I.

3. Performance

This part of my work starts with loading everything up and driving over to hospital. Once I’m all dressed up and looking lovely, my first stop is usually to the nurses, to have a word (well, several words, one word usually isn’t enough) about my patients. That way I can find out if there are any special cases, e.g. pre-op - who might be afraid and need some reassurance; or post-op - who might be in pain and could do with some light relief but perhaps not boisterous loud clowning). Then it’s off on my rounds with my clown partner (it changes from visit to visit, but we always work in twos) and we go from bed to bed to bed, visiting all the children and making them feel better.

4. The Nap

This is another Very Important Part. After I've done all the cleaning, I have a hearty meal, followed by a nice long nap. Otherwise I get very tired and cranky, and sometimes have a little weep the next day. I’m not too sure why. But if I have a nice nap, that’s less likely, I think. The hearty meal is pretty important too, and the trick is to eat as much as you can, as fast as you can, before your brain has time to figure out that your stomach is full.

And there you have it. That’s what my workday is like.

One fine day at St. Philomena's.

Today was our first day at St. Philomena's. Miss Rose and I got off to a good start when we found a poor ailing banana who wasn't peeling well, right there in the doctors' changing room. There was a nice bed in the room, but the poor banana had been left on a hard wooden table, so after we gave him the once-over with my stethoscope, we tucked him in and left him to rest.

First stop was the neo-natal ward, where the little preemies got their first taste (well sound) of French lullabies. And then onward and upward to the pediatric wards.

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On the way Miss Rose came upon a bunch of gloves just hanging around listlessly. Three whole rows of them. Realising that these poor flaccid souls were in urgent need of medical attention, she gave them some bubbles, while I taught them some finger exercises. I wasn't sure if they were girl gloves or boy gloves.

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"Didn't you see?" said Miss Rose, wiggling her thumb. "Boys!"

On the way to the wards, Mrs. Rose stopped for an impromptu magic show. Meanwhile Dr Mamu's driver Kishore showed up so I hurried him off to the changing room so that he could deliver Mamu to us asap. Once Mamu showed up, we had lots of fun, surrounded by many giggly children, and one little boy who was actually guffawing with laughter. I didn't know little children could guffaw: I've seen them giggle, chortle and laugh; this was my first guffaw.

There was one tense moment when I was feeling a bit peakish and Miss Rose got out her humongous rectal thermometer. But it passed quickly and painlessly. All in all, you could say it went smoothly.

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And then it was back to the changing room for one last check on Mr. Banana, who was looking quite rested after his peaceful nap in the doctors' bed. He's sure to have been peeling well by the afternoon.

Waiting for Miss Rose.

She has gone to Nepal. I hope she'll be back soon, so that I can go clowning with her at St. Philomena's. Miss Rose is a French clown, and she runs Docteur Clown India where I work. She's the first clown friend I met after coming to India.

A new hospital on the cards.

Today I went to St. Philomena's Hospital and met Dr. Rajeev, a twinkly-eyed paediatrician who works there. On Monday, I have to go back and meet the Hospital Director, and also something called The Hod. It sounds ominous. I hope I'll come out of it alive. Meanwhile, I'm very busy getting my clown clothes ready for the new hospital. I've also been practising my juggling. I used to be totally useless at it, but now I've moved up to abyssmal. I've just invested in a set of bowling pins, also for juggling. Soon I hope to be abyssmal at that too.