She was a day......tripper

I fell up the stairs during Friday night. Well, to elaborate,  I fell up them once , and an hour or so later I tripped up them.  So, in truth,  I had two altercations with the stairs in one evening.  The latter occasion was a mere trifle (no, I do not mean that an example of one of those extraordinarily flamboyant desserts was sitting idly on the stair by the way….and no my lack of spatial awareness was not from over-indulging on  a sherry-fuelled pudding either).  However, even if I do say so myself, the first time was really quite impressive – one of those dramatic moments that can never be repeated in quite the same way.  An off the cuff theatrical masterpiece if you like. A BAFTA moment even.  But one that was not witnessed and/or investigated by those others residing in the house, apart from “You alright love?” from Jon who was on the ‘phone to Nick Redfern at the time of the event.

As I scuffed and bruised both elbows, both knees and my chin and lay sprawled on my stomach I had expected that my noisy ’ kerthump’ ,  and the loud exclamation of annoyance that burst forth from my lips would have caused the occupants of the rooms upstairs to open their doors to allow them to  investigate the commotion.  Mais non.  The doors remained firmly closed…well it was middle to late evening …so I must remember not to fall the more conventional  way (ie down) next time, especially during the evenings.  And particularly if Jon has already retired for the night; my poor broken and bruised body would probably not be found until the morning or when one of the other doors creaked open to disgorge its occupant on a midnight wander to find food in the kitchen.

The whole affair did not do much for my back either, which – although much improved – has still not recovered from whatever it was that I did to it after the Weird Weekend.  I suppose one could say that I am currently going through a phase of experiencing poor judgement of my surroundings. Or perhaps someone is drugging my tea…..hmmm.