|Stairs, my occasional downfall
||[Aug. 16th, 2008|05:37 pm]
As some of you (particularly those of you who follow some of my other online presences) will be aware, I fell down the stairs yesterday.|
I'm not seriously injured -- some scraped bits of skin, some large bumps, one particularly picturesque bruise, some places that feel like bruises but don't yet look like bruises -- because falling down the stairs is something I do routinely every now and then. I hadn't fallen down the stairs for a couple of years and I was probably overdue for another go, and when I'm falling down the stairs I don't usually pick up serious injuries. I'm actually quite good at falling down the stairs. I didn't hit my head, or damage my spine, or tear any muscles, and so the only injuries I have are those arising from impact.
I think there's a fanzine article waiting to be written about just how to fall down the stairs properly, achieving the maximum noise and comic effect coupled with the minimum of injury and lasting consequences.
Unless someone's already written it, and I haven't found it yet.
Or a whole fanzine. I could write up how a fan fell down another fan's stairs in Sheffield, and ended up living in my dining room for three months. It's how we got a cat.
Julia kissy better.
I could tell you how I somersaulted backwards down the stairs while at uni...
Glad you're okay Dougs. And it sounds like you do have a fanzine in the making!
I could tell you how I slid down the stairs and sat on my foot, hard, in 1987.
And the doc said to rest it.
So I did a wedding, a Vike show, a TV programme (see FF whisper sweet nothings in cuboid_ursinoid
's ear about fur lined space ships on national TV...) and the Worldcon in Brighton.
My ankle has never forgiven me, it still is prone to folding without notice, sending me arse over tip at a moment's notice.
Dare we ask why? Is it impetuosity, or a lack of co-ordination, or something missing in the inner ear?
Certainly not! Good heavens, sir, that never happens! If it did, I'd have a special icon for it!
I have something that used to rejoice in names like "clumsy child syndrome" or "congenital maladroitness", but now has the very trendy name of dyspraxia. It means I often break glasses and crockery, I stub my toes and walk into doorframes, all sorts of things like that. I'm a mild case, there are plenty of people who are worse at it than I, But it means that I've fallen down stairs perhaps eight or ten times in the last forty years.
Oh, not oversize feet then :-)
I could say how I ended up being psychiatrically evaluated after falling down four lots of stairs (each worth a casualty visit) in six weeks as a teenager. Though thankfully said evaluation did believe my (truthful) assertion that I wasn't suicidal, just an accident prone tit.
See my reply to vicarage
, above, about dyspraxia -- a medical diagnosis just a touch more formal than, but functionaly equivalent to, "accident prone tit".
Heh. Didn't know one could fall down stairs without being pregnant. Learn something new every day.
Last time I fell down the stairs, I picked up so much speed I landed on the front door mat! And, yes, I did scream like a girl on the way down :)