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A Poor Contribution For Comic Relief
8 Answers
(multi-part posting, hang on, here we go...)
Big Sis and I used to go for long weekends to North Devon with a dog-group taking BS's GSD, Barney. Poor dog prefered not to do all the big group walks and as the agenda worked out we could do our own thing on Sunday morning prior to a huge roast lunch back at the hotel.
One year we decided to visit the Tamar Lakes for the Sunday walk - just the 3 of us. I say 'we' but it was BS's wish to go that far, though I was happy to concur.
We crossed the county border into Somerset. It was a sunny day though a chilly wind persisted - this was late October. We duly arrived at the Tamar Lakes car park. As it was out of season all the facilities were closed for the winter. Between the car park and the lakes there was an expanse of grass which sloped from West to East. Just beneath our view there was a small promontary which had some very pretty young birches, partly obscuring our view of the lakes upon which 3 chaps were sailing model yachts.
We decided to have a look before we let Barney out of the car. As we made our way towards a better view we were cutting across the West/East slope on a South/North path so we had to deal with a double camber on the wet grass. We came to a drainage ditch across which some kind soul had put a railway sleeper.
As I crossed the ditch I was trying to bend my body so that I could see around those silver birches to follow the yachts as they really were going some knots in the strong tidal movement fuelled by the chill wind.
That was not my best decision, for as I stepped off the sleeper my foot landed on bare mud, which I was not looking at, and I went down. Even I heard the ground shake, as I went down heavily. For a few moments I lay there trying to work out which part of my skeleton I had broken.
contd/
Big Sis and I used to go for long weekends to North Devon with a dog-group taking BS's GSD, Barney. Poor dog prefered not to do all the big group walks and as the agenda worked out we could do our own thing on Sunday morning prior to a huge roast lunch back at the hotel.
One year we decided to visit the Tamar Lakes for the Sunday walk - just the 3 of us. I say 'we' but it was BS's wish to go that far, though I was happy to concur.
We crossed the county border into Somerset. It was a sunny day though a chilly wind persisted - this was late October. We duly arrived at the Tamar Lakes car park. As it was out of season all the facilities were closed for the winter. Between the car park and the lakes there was an expanse of grass which sloped from West to East. Just beneath our view there was a small promontary which had some very pretty young birches, partly obscuring our view of the lakes upon which 3 chaps were sailing model yachts.
We decided to have a look before we let Barney out of the car. As we made our way towards a better view we were cutting across the West/East slope on a South/North path so we had to deal with a double camber on the wet grass. We came to a drainage ditch across which some kind soul had put a railway sleeper.
As I crossed the ditch I was trying to bend my body so that I could see around those silver birches to follow the yachts as they really were going some knots in the strong tidal movement fuelled by the chill wind.
That was not my best decision, for as I stepped off the sleeper my foot landed on bare mud, which I was not looking at, and I went down. Even I heard the ground shake, as I went down heavily. For a few moments I lay there trying to work out which part of my skeleton I had broken.
contd/
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BS said "Viv, are you alright? Get up!"
I thought "Sod that for a game of toy soldiers"
BS said "Viv, get up quick!"
I told my beloved sister to "fluff off"
BS said "Viv, get up ---- they are coming up the hill"
I got up.
The 3 chaps, who were quite elderly were struggling up the hill towards me. I stood up straight, smiled and waved at them. Through clenched teeth I told them I was fine and, thankfully, they turned their attention once more to their yachts.
I was in such pain I could have cried. To add insult to my injury my left side was totally covered in thick mud from head to toe. BS looked horrified at my predicament and said "Oh dear, are you all right? I knew you wouldn't want them to come up here". Well, I have known BS all my life and must admit she got that bit totally right.
She helped me back to the car, taking great care over the ditch. The upside of this story is that we had our bags packed in the car ready for our departure after the Sunday lunch. I took spare socks, jeans, sweat shirt and a packet of wet wipes and made for the toilets.
Bugger, they were closed. I ended up behind a single, rickety, larch lap panel (which screened the cesspit) and changed my clothes very slowly and very painfully. I even had to lean my weight against the rickety panel in order to lift my left leg out of and into the jeans, socks and boots. I got back to the car walking like Chester from Gun Smoke. BS had meanwhile walked Barney a short distance on his lead. As I got into the car BS was trying to pick the mud from my hair. I had a job to master the clutch with my poorly left leg. We drove back to the hotel in near silence.
Once back in the hotel I (again) spruced myself up in the cloakroom (aren't wet wipes wonderful?) and joined the others in the dining room. For the
I thought "Sod that for a game of toy soldiers"
BS said "Viv, get up quick!"
I told my beloved sister to "fluff off"
BS said "Viv, get up ---- they are coming up the hill"
I got up.
The 3 chaps, who were quite elderly were struggling up the hill towards me. I stood up straight, smiled and waved at them. Through clenched teeth I told them I was fine and, thankfully, they turned their attention once more to their yachts.
I was in such pain I could have cried. To add insult to my injury my left side was totally covered in thick mud from head to toe. BS looked horrified at my predicament and said "Oh dear, are you all right? I knew you wouldn't want them to come up here". Well, I have known BS all my life and must admit she got that bit totally right.
She helped me back to the car, taking great care over the ditch. The upside of this story is that we had our bags packed in the car ready for our departure after the Sunday lunch. I took spare socks, jeans, sweat shirt and a packet of wet wipes and made for the toilets.
Bugger, they were closed. I ended up behind a single, rickety, larch lap panel (which screened the cesspit) and changed my clothes very slowly and very painfully. I even had to lean my weight against the rickety panel in order to lift my left leg out of and into the jeans, socks and boots. I got back to the car walking like Chester from Gun Smoke. BS had meanwhile walked Barney a short distance on his lead. As I got into the car BS was trying to pick the mud from my hair. I had a job to master the clutch with my poorly left leg. We drove back to the hotel in near silence.
Once back in the hotel I (again) spruced myself up in the cloakroom (aren't wet wipes wonderful?) and joined the others in the dining room. For the
For the first time in our years of doing this same dog-weekend we were on the top table. Deep joy! Was there to be no end to my humiliation as the bruises started to develop on my face and hand?
As we took our places opposite each other someone asked kindly if we had enjoyed our walk. Before I could extend my remaining good leg under the table to kick my beloved sister she had already told them about my 'accident'. I was mortified and my head nearly landed in the plate. More gravy anyone?
As we took our places opposite each other someone asked kindly if we had enjoyed our walk. Before I could extend my remaining good leg under the table to kick my beloved sister she had already told them about my 'accident'. I was mortified and my head nearly landed in the plate. More gravy anyone?
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