Human metamorphosis
In her new book, reflecting on how and why we change, Polly Morland explores 19 true stories. In this extract, she hears how a violinist who felt cut off from ‘real life’ took a 10-year journey to join the police...
Overlooking a quiet street of suburban houses, with neat front lawns and heathery hillside beyond, Police Sergeant Coxon sits in a tidy, plain living-room. He is not in uniform today, but his bearing is straight and a little formal, almost as though he were. On the floor there are two large baskets overflowing with soft toys, plastic trucks and those fabric picture books designed to withstand chewing by their readership. Over the hours that follow, these baskets periodically emit an incongruous coda of melody, a bleat or a moo, a tinny siren.
Sergeant Coxon has just come off night shift and his baby son is teething. He apologises for being ‘‘a bit exhausted’’ and smiles, making a little circle on the closed lids of both eyes with surprisingly delicate, tapering fingertips. Recently promoted to sergeant after a decade as a front-line constable, Coxon’s beat is the southern hub of the Edinburgh urban area. There he and another sergeant run one of five emergency response teams, serving 120,000 people, from both affluent and deprived communities. His conversation is punctuated with glimpses of what he calls the ‘‘gritty’’ side of his work. Suicides, murder, sweeping brain matter off the tarmac after car crashes, the knock on an unsuspecting door with terrible news.
‘‘Appalling things happen to people on a daily basis,’’ he says, the decorous precision of his Edinburgh accent taming the chaos for a moment, ‘‘but you learn to deal with it and it’s made me a better person, being a police officer. My mind has been broadened immeasurably, my insight into what really goes on out in the world.’’ He glances to the street outside, where a man is whistling as he washes his car. ‘‘It’s actually given me great faith in human nature and it’s essential work.’’
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