Culturazi

I just wrote this blog and then somehow managed to delete it which I’ve done before and I’ll probably do again but I can’t quite work out how I did it. Something to do with hitting control and backspace I think. But I didn’t mean to do that on purpose so I’m not sure.

The version I just wrote was nearly completed and was actually quite funny. Now I’m having a Groundhog Day moment and no longer feel I can keep the material fresh and vivacious. Instead of delicately describing a sequence of events that led to a moment of downfall, pain, and ultimate salvation I could just write: I fell off my bike. Again. But this time I wasn’t pissed. Oh all right, I’ll elaborate.

Hot. Very hot. Decide to go for swim at sister-in-law’s house where we have a standing invitation to use the pool. (Except, as Bertrude and I aren’t married, she’s more properly an out-law than in in-law.)

Dress in cossy, place towel in string bag lying handily near the front door, ride up the hill to Duffy Street.

Mmm. Ah. Very refreshing.
Keep eyes open in race with Wildflower in order to assure confidence-building victory for darling daughter.

Now something in my eye.

Still something in my eye, which is red and weeping.

Sister-in-law kindly irrigates eye to no avail.

Eye now completely closed.

Put wet towel back in string bag, put bag over shoulder, ride down the hill.

String bag’s stretch quite a lot when they’ve got something heavy in them. Like a wet towel.

At steepest bit of ride discover string bag has stretched quite a lot because string bag is now in front wheel.

Bicycle stops quite suddenly.

I do not stop quite as suddenly.

I go over handle bars, and then have a little lie down on the ground with the bike on top of me.

Wildflower runs over and removes bicycle. Cars stop. Passing joggers come to my assistance.

In the best tradition of people who don’t want too much attention, assure everyone that I’m fine.

My face is bleeding, as are bits of my leg.

As I get shakily back on my bike, I begin to laugh. I believe this is called hysteria.

Get home and have a little weep.

Weeping very good for irrigating eye.

Eye now clear, although the relief I would normally feel is somewhat mitigated by swollen face.

Wildflower begins to imitate my strange speech style, brought about by not being able to move my chin very much.

This makes me laugh which hurts my face even more.

Children can be so cruel.

Tags: Gertrude, Humour // Add Comment »