“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”

It was a bloody stupid idea, is what it was. But there you go.

/------------------------------------------------------------------------------/

I’m 32, 5’2” and (probably) within a stone of my ideal weight (minus Covid-Chocs and the odd glass of Shiraz).

Corona-Virus hasn’t got me down – no-sir-ee – I’ve been busy. Re-disinfected every corner, re-discovered why I never learnt Russian; re-read all of: Austin (Brilliant); Elliot (Honestly?); Hardy (Sigh…); Dickens (“It is a far, far, better thing that I do now...” - gets me every time).

But, a new challenge is required.

I am going to achieve my girlhood dream, do the one thing that I’ve never been able to.

Thank God for YouTube. There’s literally nothing you can’t learn, including: “How to do a Cartwheel in six easy steps”.

I’ll be like one of those girls in the park on a summer’s day. Effortless. I’ll have one foot raised, hands above my head, launch into a human blur of limbs, gracefully turning, landing upright, arms aloft, almost as if I had never moved.

Simple.

/------------------------------------------------------------------------------/

“OWWWW”

“Oh God…. Jeeeeezuuuuz….. That hurts.”

Oh Effing hell, look, there’s blood everywhere.

All that practice. Sodding YouTube. I should have moved the pictures, when I shifted the sofa. Didn’t think about the prints.

“Owwwww.”

Urgh. It’s all sticky. My lovely rug...

Still bleeding, quite a puddle now. Where’s my phone? If I can just wriggle over there on my back…

Can’t see the keypad, need the nines.

/------------------------------------------------------------------------------/

“Yes, that’s right, I live alone. The door’s locked. Don’t think I can; stuck on the floor. Try the nice bloke at Number 3? He’s got a spare, for emergencies.”

“It’s my leg. Lots of blood. I cut it. I was trying to… Umm... Does it matter? It’s really sore. I’m so tired now. And cold. Send someone soon?”

/------------------------------------------------------------------------------/

“Hello lovely Mr No.3. Thank you. Sorry: sleepy, it’s really chilly. Who’s here with you?”

“Oh…”

Ambulance WOMEN – just my luck.

“Please, please don’t do… Yes, that, don’t do that. Yes it does bloody hurt.”

“Owwwwwww.”

/------------------------------------------------------------------------------/

What did they give me? Still hurts but now I don’t care.

Whoah, careful guys, not made of rubber…

Cor – look - ceiling tiles, strip lights, just like the movies.

“Hello Doctor. Oh. That sounds bad. Yes. Whatever you think.”

“Eaten? Breakfast. Spent hours on the rug. Could murder a cuppa.”

“10, 9, 8, 7….”

/------------------------------------------------------------------------------/

“But I am better. You know I’m better. I’ve walked round the room, been to the loo, I climbed your stairs-thingy and learnt to use the crutches…”

“No. No-one. But seriously, I’m fine.”

“Who?”

Wow

“Really?”

“Why?”

That’s definitely neighbourly…

“When?”

“What time is it? Shit. I’m a mess. Twenty minutes? Help me get in the shower then.”

/------------------------------------------------------------------------------/

“Hi. We’ve never really talked much.”

“Ok, then. Well, Dave,”

Mustn’t giggle.

“Hi, I’m Gina.”

“You really didn’t have to offer…”

“Yup, all ready”

“Actually, I could murder a cup tea…”

Am I blushing?

“Sounds lovely…”

Oh no, I giggled!

Writing by JULIE WILSON

Artwork ‘gymnastics and red wine do not mix’ by BRONACH RAE