It’s been a low couple of days, but rather than bang on about my faltering resolve, here are the highlights. Had these two incidents occurred to someone else, I would have peed myself a little, so in true altruistic fashion I pass them to you for enjoyment at my expense. Aren’t I nice?
A few days ago I took myself to Bondi Beach. It was a beautiful day: stiflingly hot inland, but on the coast it was almost cool with the wind. I ate an ice cream, dipped my toes in the sea and took a stroll down the busy beach. As I was walking down the promenade I saw someone else on their own, carrying an enormous rucksack and plenty of other possessions draped upon his person. As he came towards me I tried to watch him with that haughty plea of one loner to another; somewhere between ‘Oh God, please be my friend’ and ‘I don’t need you – look how cool I am’, but this was overridden by my awe for the sheer amount of stuff he had decided to take travelling. I was straining my neck towards him to try and work out exactly how he was carrying said items, when out of nowhere, the wind caught a surf cover owned by the gentleman walking near me, lifted it high in the air, and straight into my face.
Well, I gripped my nose and pretended it was fine as Surfboard Man and I suffered an awkward back and forth of apologies and reassurances, all the while seeing the man with a house on his back snickering in the corner of my eye.
Later that day, safely at home with my fat nose and far away from errant polyester, I decided to glue my riding boots together. One of the patches on them had frayed and they were rubbing the sides of all the horses, leaving bloody grooves in their sides. I purchased a tube of Super Glue to stick it back down, but whilst trying to pierce the top I squeezed the bottle a little too tight. The glue spurted all over my fingers, thus sticking my hands together.
Luckily the Super Glue didn’t get really stuck as I put my hands under water, so remove the image of my spastic fingers please. But it did leave a dodgy white residue that I could only get off with hard picking. So, the past few days have been spent doing just that. It now looks like it has snowed in my room. Or like I have really bad dandruff. And I must look a tad special, agitatedly picking at my white stains wherever I go.
I have tried my best to avoid Christmas this year, but I look like Rudolf, I’m shedding fake snow decorations, and I live in a stable.