Norma could fall anywhere: the aisle of a plane, a pub in Oban Scotland, a park in Hershey Pennsylvania, her own living room. I feel legacy is important, so I have chosen to carry on the tradition. I once broke my foot at a Raptors game (I wasn’t playing), I sprained my ankle while standing still at work chatting with a colleague, I own my own crutches, and most recently I did a Chevy-Chase not-quite-stumble-and-save on Sauchiehall Street in Glasgow.
So I shouldn’t have been surprised when, Friday afternoon, strolling along Trafalgar Square towards Charing Cross to get the train to Tunbridge Wells, I found the only piece of uneven pavement and fell, spraining my left ankle, scraping my right knee and wrenching my right foot. Well splendid.
Thank you to the lovely people who helped me up, found my glasses, and saw me on my way. I found the Boots (Shoppers Drugmart) in the station, bought a tensor bandage and painkillers, and limped to my train. Taxi-ed to the lovely hotel (expensive, slightly posh, but with no elevator or air conditioning), and instead of spending the rest of the afternoon/evening exploring Royal Tunbridge Wells, I proceeded to numb the pain in the bar, then off to bed early to sulk and suffer.
I had booked a hair appointment for Saturday morning at a salon 200 yards up the street (I could see it from the hotel’s driveway) because it would have been an easy walk. Right. No taxi was going to come for a 200 yd journey and I didn’t want to have to walk it both there and back, so I went into the hotel restaurant and asked if any of the staff wanted to make a tenner and drive me there. The barman said he would but didn’t want payment (so kind), but then a patron stood up and said he’d take me, while his wife ordered their breakfast. Honestly, people are so nice.
I did still have to walk back from the salon, which was fine, I just walked very slowly. The worst part was finding a gap in traffic to cross the road. 🙁 Then change into my outfit for the wedding. Not the cute outfit with the stacked heel slingbacks – no, that was a pipe dream now. Instead into a more practical ensemble that showed off my sensible flats and bright white tensor bandage. Taxi-ed to the absolutely lovely outdoor venue and tried not to be ‘that woman’, hogging all the attention with her tale of woe on someone else’s special day.
It was a beautiful wedding: the bride & bridesmaids were gorgeous, the groom handsome, my cousin very chic, and her husband dapper in his kilt. I had a great time – met some lovely people, drank too much wine, ignored the throbbing ankle, and just generally enjoyed myself.
Until a barroom brawl broke out in the parking lot at midnight, and I ended up in the middle of the melee.
(I’m getting quite good at these cliffhangers, aren’t I?)