Emma's car is in the garage.
A light keeps coming on. There's a dizzying array of lights that keep coming on. We've spent hundreds on putting out lights. This one is a fetching yellow light in the shape of a car engine. I've never been interested in cars so I don't have a clue what it means, which makes me about as knowledgable as Emma on the subject.
All of which illumination ignorance means that we have to go to work on the train. What is more, we have to get to the train station under own steam. The first part of this was more straightforward than I had feared. Inexplicably, my next door neighbour has took it upon herself to grit my driveway. Perhaps she saw my farcical antics on Monday night (see blog below - Coffin Dodging) and felt sorry for me. Whatever the reason, I should like to thank her wholeheartedly, which is just hard luck because there is no way she is reading this.
So Emma and I are on our way to the train station and we get to the park. The quickest way to the station is to cut through the park, otherwise it is quite a trek all the way around and up the hilly main road. There is a slope leading into the park which, not unexpectedly given recent conditions, is covered with thick ice. Laziness took over at this point. I just couldn't face the long way round at 7.45 in the morning in temperatures that polar bears find a little fresh. In addition, I feared missing the 8.01 train and having to wait another half hour for the next one in those same freezing conditions.
So I went for it;
'Stephen, please don't go down there, you will fall.' Emma said, not unreasonably;
"I'll be fine." I said, unreasonably.
I knew I wouldn't be able to do it on all four wheels so I tipped my chair backwards on to two. At first I felt fully in control and it wasn't until about half way down the slope that things began to change. Suddenly my wheels were no longer gripping and I found myself wheel-spinning dangerously. I was convinced that at that rate I would fall backwards which would have almost certainly led to my hitting my head on the ice and a possible concussion. So I put my front wheels down.
As soon as I did the chair took on a life of it's own. Most people think it has a life of it's own but that's another, far darker and grumpier blog that we just don't have time for. I started to slide down the slope with Usain-Bolt-like speed. There was a point where I thought everything would turn out fine, when as I approached a small post at ludicrous speed I hit upon the idea of grabbing it to stop myself. The plan was to throw an arm around it and use it to turn the chair in the opposite direction. I put my arm out, but just as I did I hit what must have been either a crack in the surface or a pot-hole of some description........
I was flung head-first towards the cold stuff. I put my arms out to stop myself and crashed to the floor with a sickening thud. Todd Carty's ice-skating exploits sprung to mind as I smashed into the rock hard ice beneath me. My hands are scratched and cut and my knees are still sore from the impact. It took me some time to get up off the floor and when I did I had still to negotiate the task of getting back into the chair. I couldn't put my hand down on the floor because the ice was just that cold, so I had nothing to steady myself as I pushed myself up towards my seat. Eventually (and with a bit of help from Emma), I managed to get hold of my chair frame and hoist myself back into position.
Hands and knees still stinging, we made it to the station on time to catch the train at least. Emma has just emailed me to say that the car will be ready today so there should be no repeat of this slippery chicanery tomorrow.
Unless another bloody light comes on..........