These things keep happening

Stuff has always happened to me. Bizarre stuff. Stuff you could acuse me of making up, if we both didn’t know my imagination wasn’t that good.

I used to write about this stuff and then I stopped. Writing, that is. The stuff kept happening.

Take the latest – being knocked over at the bus stop. It happens, I can hear you think. Where is the funny? The funny is in the fact that I was STANDING STILL at the time. Any fool can fall flat on her face from moving. I’ve done it before and undoubtably will again. But this time i was stationary. In the queue. With people around me.

One minute I am standing there, minding my own business, queuing like the good English woman I am. The next thing I am aware of is being flat on my back with a moderately sized drunk man sprawled over me.

Kind people hauled the drunk off and helped me to my feet, then we all chuckled wryly for a second and returned to our British queuing.

I’ll be honest, my pride was probably more bruised than my body. I was slightly worried I’d buggered my foot again and would be walking with a stick once more till it healed, but I was fortunate.

And now I know how a bowling pin feels, should I ever be called on to write a story from the POV of a bowling pin. Though thinking about it, pins probably have some awareness of what is about to happen to them. A squished fly. Yes. That is more like it. A fly that has been merrily chomping on some jam and then *swat* jam no more.

All things considered, universe, next time I end up sprawled flat on the pavement, can it at least be under Richard Armitage?

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