Ridley: This was originally going to be a post about the Flight Festival that took place in Dublin today. That’s what I told Latimer I was thinking of doing, but I got word that a family member had a bad fall and bruised themselves, so I went home instead of watching planes. Alls good and everything, but I now know where I get all my clumsiness from, one day they’ll find clutsy is genetically passed on I think! 🙂
I had so many falls, sprains and breaks when I was younger, I’ve nearly lost count, and it’s not like I’m a particularly sporty type! I never had one of those epic tales like; I was skiing in the Alps in a cool one piece suit with fashionable goggles and while doing numerous tricks and zooming down the snowy hillside, I accidentally ploughed into my handsome skiing instructor and broke my leg. Where I then laughed about it with him over hot chocolate in a chalet beside a roaring log fire wearing a leg cast signed by numerous people.
Oh no, they’re all rather pathetic stories. In my time I’ve managed to break my left arm, fracture both my middle fingers, knock out my two front baby teeth, sprained my ankle over fifteen times and injured myself in such a way that I tore the muscles away from the bone in my right foot (which is unbelievably sore).
Actually, most of my major injuries happened between the ages of about five and seven. I don’t know maybe that was a wild time for me. I used to love running around the playground, particularly hanging upside down on the metal bar like a monkey, you could also do flips over it. Then one day I slipped, smacked face first into the sand beneath it and bye bye front teeth. I remember it being really near to Christmas as well, as “All I want for Christmas are my two front teeth”, was sung at me on a continuous basis for weeks.
When I was six, I was playing cops and robbers with my uncle (which actually just involved me running around the house over and over again, while he stayed in the one place and barely tried to act as a cop and stop me) and managed to break my arm by tripping on a root sticking out of a hedge in the front garden and I banged my left arm down on hard dirt and well, Bobs your uncle. I might add, at the exact same time, my younger brother was half way up a large tree and my uncle was lazily advising him to come down.
Now, if you’d freeze framed the whole moment and asked a panel of experts who was about to break something, who do you think they’d have picked? Yeah.
A year later, I fractured both my middle fingers. I became ill in school and I was sent out by the school nurse to sit on the swings in the yard. Feeling bored, I put my fingers in between the small chain links of the swing. Not the best idea just before you faint.
The next thing I remember I’m hanging backwards having slid off the robber seat, my arms in the air and my fingers still stuck in the chains, looking up at the nurse and my teacher.
My final biggish injury was years later, I was twelve and I got Rollerblades for Christmas, I did just great on them in the house, rolling along on the carpet, with numerous things to grab (chairs, tables, people) when it looked like I was about to fall over. Then they let me outside, literally two days after I got them I somehow managed to fall half on and half off a high footpath in front of a (really really slow moving) car, I landed really awkwardly on my leg.
For a week, everyone, including the doctors, thought it was a horrifically bad sprain, but having had numerous sprains already by this age, I knew it was something different. Eventually, I ended up in a full leg cast after the doctors realised I’d torn the ligaments away from my foot. It all took ages to heal.
Now, it’s all been suspiciously quiet of late, suspiciously, and I’ve recently started trampolining classes (sooo much fun!) but even with a few years of a gap of any bumps or scraps, my family still felt the need to warn me not to kill myself while I’m off bouncing.
One of the things we do in the fitness class is run along the trampolines, and I got cocky last week, which never ends well. I found myself sprinting way too fast, my momentum built and built and with widening eyes I realised I was no longer in any sort of control of my legs and that I couldn’t stop. I had a split second thought that I was about to go flying so I tucked my arms in and I managed to do a barrel roll over three trampolines and a mat, before I stopped moving. I then hopped up and tried to pretend it hadn’t happened at all. I thought I’d succeeded but then the fitness instructor with her large microphone, and what felt like a giant long arm, pointed at me and shouted, “Fantastic recovery! And don’t worry, no one saw you!” *sigh*
So, while I dance (and bounce) with fate, I can only hope that, fingers crossed, I’ll continue to beat my clumsy genes! 😀