No Pride. But Still A Fall.

Warming Up

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I'd had a bad night's sleep or rather a bad night's awake and batteries were low, but somehow I seemed to be operating to adequate efficiency. I walked the kids (and dog) to school and then connected to Japan via the internet to talk with one of my favourite writers David Peace about this harrowing but excellent account of the Munich Air Disaster, Munichs (podcast out next week). We were both born in Yorkshire in 1967 - though he's West Riding and I'm East and so we are mortal enemies. For a super smart award winning novelist (albeit one who writes some very funny books, though Munichs is not one of those on the whole) David was very down to earth and modest and seem flattered to have been asked on the podcast, rather than realising the honour was all mine.

I still seemed to be holding things together well enough for the lunchtime dog walk, but was clearly a bit distracted as I walked into the road without spotting a car coming towards me. It was far enough away that I could avoid it with a gentle jog and I raised up my arm to apologise to the driver for not having spotted him. I am not exactly sure what happened next, but I suppose I tripped over the curb because the next thing I knew I was flying through the air and crashing down on the pavement.

Falling over used to be a part of my personal and professional life. When I was a kid I did it all the time and as an adult I have occasionally exploited the comedic possibilities of giving into gravity - most notably with my early creation, Harold Pucksa, the Man Who Can Only Live in a Vacuum (which I came up with at school, I think). But I haven't had too many serious falls in recent years and this one was not only a shock to the system, a mild humiliation (as the driver must have witnessed my comedic run and then elaborate pratfall and thought that he'd just seen a prat fall), but it also really hurt. My headphones and phones were strewn across the pavement and even as I quickly gathered them (still prone) I wondered if I might have done serious damage. My knees and hand hurt quite badly. Would I be able to stand?

I got up pretty fast, I guess, because when something like this happens you have to pretend you're OK, even if it's only strangers around you. I carried on walking so nothing was broken, but everything ached and I limped and felt like a right old dummy. If this had happened to me when I was 7 then I would have cried, but recovered almost immediately and looked forward to picking and maybe eating the scabs. At least I didn't cry and I didn't anticipate the self-cannibalistic feast that was to come (is it ok to eat your own body parts? What size do they have to be to be morally questionable? I’ve never gone bigger than scabs, bogeys and finger nails. I guess the measure is if the body doesn’t replace or repair it then you shouldn’t eat it), but the pain was much more intense and the recovery time was immense.

I am not the first person to observe how our bodies and bones go from bendy and unbreakable to shattering like an egg shell the moment they are touched and I'm not getting into the cliched thing of falling over versus having a fall and at what age the transition is made. Or if I am, this was falling over but I may be on the cusp. The next time it happens I might need to go to hospital.

The reaction of passersby lets you know where you are. If they leave you to gather your phone and your dignity then you're still just about young, if they're coming over to ask if you're OK, then you're on the way out.

I've been in the last quarter of my fifties for the last week, but my brain must be in a very small black hole as time is not moving as quickly in there as it is for my body. I am really angry with God for coming up with the idea of ageing. I am going to be like that translucent billionaire guy and fight this thing to the end. I will be young again.

My knees hurt all day - only the skin, somehow whilst the rest of my body seems determined to feel its age my knees refuse to buckle and have never given me problems- but it wasn't until night time that I looked to check the damage and there was some good skin scraping on the right knee from the impact.

I wonder what scabs score on Zoe.

In remembrance of the great Tony Slattery we've put up his episode of the Edinburgh RHLSTP from 2019 again - it's a lot of fun and moving and I think it's a nice tribute to the man he had been, was and would be.

Here’s a clip