I took a spectacular stack on my bike this morning. Actually, it was perhaps not so spectacular as it was retarded. I was riding home from the pool and had bought a paper on the way but had nothing to carry it with so held it and my bike handle in my left hand. Tried and failed to get it under my arm in time to brake for the road/passer-by but couldn't co-ordinate it and, like a dick, slammed on my brake with right hand only (a big bike no-no) in order to avoid stacking into said passer-by at the speed I was going and instead did a big skid on the gravelly sand and came down on my right side.
Said passer by said "Shit," as she rushed to my aid, "are you ok?"
"Yes," I replied in an almost disappointed Homer Simpson tone "I'm fine" as I collected my Green Guide and lifted myself shamefully back to the vertical position, sand stuck all over me.
I now have:
a grazed knee
a grazed foot
a grazed palm with gravel embedded in it
and a sore right ankle and wrist.
No hand jobs for anyone this week. Sorry.
As I headed home from filming I was crossing Alexandra Pde and was struck by a man on the other side looking down to the pavement and doing some fancy wibbly wobbly hand movements. He seemed paralyzed and I, concerned about him, thought I should just make sure he was alright and that he wasn't stuck there in the baking heat, unable to cross the road.
I tentatively asked as much only to find out that he was doing some "light work". He was a light worker you see and I, as it turns out, am part of the evolutionary path of Jenny who is much older than me. About 50 in fact. This and something about the cosmos and inter connectedness of us all and bla bla, he explained to me with his skanky breath, all over unwashed odour and 3 or so sharp, brown, crescent moon teeth. He realised this about Jenny when I interrupted him and knew my intentions weren't good and some other shit which I didn't hear as I was so taken aback by that particular observation.
"Woah, back up there buddy. Did you say my intentions weren't good?"
"No. They weren't good...(crap, crap, crap about crap)" he clarified at which point I walked off, ignoring his pleas to come back and listen.
If my intentions weren't good, why did he think I stopped him?
To learn his fancy new dance moves?
For money?
To pick up a stinky soothsayer?
Fuck off. Bake and die in Fitzroy for all I care. Charity is so last year.
Favourite Thing Today: It was going to be either Trampoline Gelati, Brunswick Street, Fitzroy. So good on a hot day like today, even if there were shells in my Pistachio section (at least it's real!) Gimme, gimme gimme...
or... a shower at the end of a hot day. Mmmmm...
but, The Salvation Army gets my vote. Yes folks, The Salvation Army. Why? For regaling me with Christmas carols at the end of my street. "Hark" said I, "what music doth drift so sweetly on this afternoon breeze?" as I set forth to find out. I opened my front door to find a S.A. brass fourtet at the end of my street, ON the road, playing Christmas carols. I wandered down to see what the occasion was and was met by a gorgeous afternoon cool change and joined the by other curious neighbours in their Summer frocks, with their children, all delighted by the music. "Merry Christmas," they greeted us all cheerily with huge, warm smiles and then took requests. I requested "I Want Your Sex" by Bob Michael* but they opted for my new neighbour's offer of Drummer Boy instead, an old favourite of mine so I was pleased. Meanwhile others collected money for their Christmas drive and I was moved to donate and was thanked with a heart felt, "God bless you". And God bless you.
It was a particularly Australian, Summer, Christmas experience.
*Perhaps I didn't but I would have, had I had a chance.
