Monday, December 24, 2007
A Very Happy Christmas to All.
'As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.'
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Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Pale green Aertex, actually
'I bet they had
their Chilprufe vests, their Aertex
shirts buttoned up across
their breakfasts..' Dick Jones
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Monday, December 03, 2007
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Saturday, December 01, 2007
Life's a real tightrope walk. One minute you're dashing about full of lists and projects and the next you're flat on your back seeing stars and wondering if this your final glimpse of the world. I really don't know how I've made it through to sixty-five, considering my proneness to tumbling over, tripping up and generally succumbing to gravity. By rights I should have broken major bones and probably my neck by now.
Yesterday I nearly fell off the tightrope; realising that I had forgotten my MOT test on the car, due on Monday, I hared down to a new car place that has opened on the site of a previous garage in the village. It has all been refurbished with huge plate glass windows and doors - no window stickers or signage up yet. Hurrying, I could see a man sitting at a desk and an open door leading towards him, so I dived in.
Except it wasn't open, it was solid glass. The sequence that followed must have been a sight to behold - at full trot I thumped my forehead hard, staggered backwards with the impact, fell on my backside and bounced the back of my head on the pavement.
Next I knew, three young men were kneeling around me, one dialling 999 on his mobile. You know how it is, pride takes over..."No, no, no, I'm fine, just help me up, what a silly arse, how could I do that?" After a cup of sugary tea with a very shaken proprietor, I fixed up the MOT and was taken home, where I promptly and privately dissolved into sobs of shock.
The outcome was a rotten headache, a fair bit of worry and a visit this morning to A & E to be on the safe side. I'm OK, no concussion or fracture, the patron saint of pratfallers has borne me up again. But just for a moment there I thought my number was up.
There was one consolation prize; in the emergency room a man in overalls with his hand in a bloody bandage sat down beside me shaking. "Are you OK?" I asked. "No, I'm all of a tremble," he said, "I've just drilled right through my hand." Then as an afterthought " Blimey, now all my mates'll be calling me Jesus."