Falling

Ill

I have a cold… I know poor me I hope you all have the violins of sympathy out. So I write this with a nose like a unseasonable Rudolph only capable of smelling one thing, the inside of my own nostrils. You know the deal no doubt, as you too will have joined the snot brigade.

Where it gets fun however is when you pair this with disability, for disability makes everything fun don’t you know. For your average Joe or Josephine a cold means going armed with tissues and lemsip to work if you don’t feel too bad. If you walk with crutches however the daily commute becomes an issue. Most people for example don’t have to choose between catching a sneeze and falling over. Being on the ground having your fall broken by a snotty face is no fun so, most of the time the sneeze loses out, caught well by my beard, thats what beards are for.

If you manage to sneeze and catch it without a trip to the floor, well done. However careful you don’t sneeze too hard. If you do you might put your neck out and be really stuck, unable to move and on your back for a while. Oh and make sure no-one is near your feet. Because they will get kicked and/or covered in snot (if your catching isn’t so good) no control options are available.

Then there is the aches. Flu will make muscles ache and spasm for everyone. Well firstly welcome to my world, secondly if you muscles are shit to begin with, the flu likes to fuck them over nicely. I managed to get out of bed yesterday (yay me) and go and try to make tea. (I may be ill but I am still British) My leg went into spasm causing me to stumble backwards and drop the milk all over the floor.

So there I am, nose dripping, tea stewing in a puddle of milk that of course has gone down behind the cooker and everywhere. Dignity.. mine took a trip on a Greyhound bus. Hardly superhuman.

Achoo

"Cover Coughs, Cover Sneezes" - NARA - 514081

Poem: Not far Left

There was a time where left was alright,
It steadfastly led the way,
Right dragged along,
Inoffensively useless, but useless all the same,
It was always left to left to rescue the right,
The right that was mangled achey and tight,

Now time has gone and flown,
All limbs of this being all fully grown,
Left is tired of dragging the right,
Left now achey managled and tight,
Where left once led a valiant fight,
To get me out of the mess, planned by right,
Left now complains, grumbles and moans.
And shoots pains through to the core of my bones,
So I am left to hobble around,
Inbetween frequent trips to the ground,
I knew this would happen to me, as others before,
I’ll dust myself off as I take an age to rise, from the floor,
So as you stride out all stable, to make your choice,
Cast your vote, make them hear your voice,
Whatever result come election night,
It’s always a battle between the left and the right.

Pixie Lott (2009) 02

(Not my legs, my arse though)

Friday Fiction: The Landing

Jessica O’Malley moved to the city five years ago, she drove a delivery truck. She was originally from Boston and as close to an Irish rose as you could be without being born on the emerald isle. She had long red hair, which on this gusty day was swept back into a pony tail and topped with a green woollen hat that the salesperson said brought out her eyes. Jess didn’t care, it kept her head warm. She had a body which like any 28 year old she wasn’t happy with. The guys at the delivery depot from which she was driving didn’t seem to notice any imperfections, but what did they know. Guys eh, she thought.

Guys, or rather, one particular guy was the reason she sat in New York City traffic. She’d moved to the city to be with him. They split after he had a string of illicit liaisons the last of which had been with her sister.

Mike was a jerk and Jess was glad to be rid of him. But she grew to love his city, so she stayed. She found a job and the guys there were fun to be around, no-one date worthy however. She loved her job and people she would meet but sometimes it got all too much so the cab of her truck gave her space and time to herself. An oasis amongst the people, traffic and the elements, a peaceful haven whenever she needed it. Usually.

A huge crash shattered her peace.

“Holy shit!” she exclaimed, not another accident. Her boss was gonna be pissed, but something was different. The impact seemed to push her cab down rather than the usual forward motion of a fender bender.
“Arrh” she heard coming from the back her truck. The traffic wasn’t going anywhere and people were looking strangely at her and the truck, pointing. So she killed the engine and clambered out to investigate.

A small crowd had gathered. Jess was confused, what the hell was going on? She pushed through the crowd slid up the rear door of the truck and peered inside, along with at least ten strangers.
“Look,” she said. “Back the fuck off, it’s just an accident. Stop being so goddamn nosey” Jess clambered up into the truck and slid the door down behind her, no-one was stealing anything from her truck!

She looked up, there was a hole in the roof of the truck. beneath the hole, in amongst todays cargo, which happened to be mattresses was a balding fat guy, cradling his arm and moaning in pain.
“What the hell man!” Jess said. “How the fuck did you…”
“I fell.” the man stuttered.
“Where the hell from? There isn’t a overhanging branch in this city”
“That apartment block. My arm really hurts.”
“Fuck your arm, look at my truck. How do I know this wasn’t a dumass plan to rob me or something?”
“It wasn’t I promise you, I just slipped.”
“What the fuck are you doing up there anyway?” Jess said. “You ain’t Spiderman, you one of those meth heads tryna fly?”

The man looked at Jess. Took a deep breath and spoke slowly.

“You may not know it, but you just saved my life. My arm hurts like hell, but I don’t regret falling anymore. I have never loved anyone more..”

He passed out.

NY Street Scene