BRUISED BLOGGER

After a disturbed night of thunder and lightning, I fell down outside my favourite place - the Post Office - on my way out this morning. As you can see, part of the pavement is broken and it had got very slippery in the rain. I was down before I realised what was happening and was so momentarily stunned that I forgot to swear! I think I knocked my head [it's hard to tell when you are going dotty anyway] and I certainly bumped my bum! Usually the street is full of people but, because of the weather, there was nobody around, so I could have done with Mutley to literally haul me out of the gutter! Thank goodness I wasn't with Simi [my dog]. You feel such a fool when you fall as an adult - it's so inelegant, for one thing.

A friend of mine had a much nastier fall on a pedestrian crossing here in February: presumably because the sun fades the paint, the Comune have started laying crossings which are made of plastic sheeting. The trouble with these is that after a while they start to crumple up. They, too, get very slippery.

The worst fall I've had in recent years was in 2002 back in Cardiff: I had not long got home from a meeting at work, and was rushing to vacuum the carpet on the spiral stairs as I was expecting visitors [why else would I vacuum the stairs?!] In my hurry, I got my foot caught in the wire whilst carrying the machine down and ended up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. It was a while before I came to and when I did get up I was shaking. It was 9pm and the man in my life at the time and I were splitting up. I didn't feel I could call him. The only person I thought I could call was my next-door neighbour, Liz, who is a nurse, but her phone was engaged. I banged on the wall with a book but, she told me later, she thought I was hammering a nail into the wall! "But this is impractical me!" I exclaimed: "Why would I do that, especially at 9pm?" Then my visitors, whom I didn't know well, turned up and, although I told them what had happened, they just sat there and I couldn't wait for them to go - I was in pain by this time - so that I could get around to Liz's for some advice and sympathy. Actually I'd have quite liked it if the woman visitor had offered to make me a hot drink; I wasn't up to doing it for myself. Eventually they left and I got myself around to Liz's, who was horrified by my bruises. In Casualty the next day I found out I'd cracked my shoulder and broken the little finger of my left hand.

I am telling you this, I suppose, to try and explain what it's like, sometimes, on your own: I have friends here who would come running if I were to ask but I wouldn't bother them just because I'm achey and feeling sorry for myself. Sometimes all you want is for someone, without your asking them, to put their arm around you and make you a cup of tea. That's all I wanted that night back in 2002; it's all I want now.