Fall a mile on my arse

On a recent ramble around the mighty Arthur’s Seat, having negotiated the slippy mud, the odd dodgy rock, my balance finally succomed to the most massive of challenges. I fell over on a flat pavement.

Isn’t adrenaline wonderful? You trip, you start to fall – your body reacts and suddenly you’re in The Matrix.

Years of evolution ensure that, at this sudden exposure to danger, my senses are heightened, my reactions are faster…I’m better, stronger…faster…(a line from the Bionic Man – ask your parents)

How did I use my new-found super-powers? I slipped gracefully onto my arse, carrying my full backpack, at the same time thinking, ‘I hope that women 200 metres away didn’t see that.’

She had.

‘I saw you fall there…’

‘The falling was easy, the hard part was getting up…’ I’m dead funny, I am.

‘Are you hurt?’

‘No, there’s loads of padding in the backpack,’ I smiled as I thought about my laptop being bent in half.

She took my snappy one-liners not as an indication that I was well, but as an announcement for all to hear that I was embarrassed and I wanted her to go away.

So much for evolution.

So much for the overall purpose of this particular escapade. I’m walking around the UK. I will be vulnerable and in need of help, food and shelter.

Why oh why have I adopted this wonderfully British trait where help is seen as a four letter word…yes, I know it is…don’t get smart, ok?

I guess I need to evolve.

Walk a Mile folks.


This entry was posted in mental health, Uncategorized, walking and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s