• makeswordswork

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

Updated: Jun 11



IMAGE: Collage of a living room with 5 figures in the process of doing a handstand


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

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