14th September 2011

Worst accident ever.  Not in an injurious sense of course, don’t be daft....it was the worst ever in that I was humiliated beyond belief.  

Worse than when I walked the length of Chiswick High Road with my skirt tucked into my knickers (thank God for thick black opaques).  Much worse than when I drunkenly cried at the student disco because the openly gay guy didnt fancy me and wouldn’t snog me. 

The day started out, as most of these do, quite innoculously – it was brisk, sunny and there was a cheer in the air as I sauntered through Soho.  I was perambulating at a slow to moderate pace, taking my merry time and enjoying some window shopping

As I peered at leather banana hammocks in the Soho Sex Shop, I clocked two fast talking fast walking ladies and a dog that were rapidly approaching me.  I panicked....I had only about 10 seconds to decide what to do.

Do I stay in the centre of the footpath, do I go tight on the corner, hugging the edge or do I speed up and leave them in my wake?  I imagine these are the rapid fire decisions that Jenson Button and Lewis Hamilton have to consider every other Sunday.  But this was new to me.  Pressure.  Head wreck, and a proper blight on an otherwise lovely afternoon.

In the end, as they descended down upon me, the cocker spaniel looking well fierce as he lollopped closer with his tongue dribbling excitedly, I decided to hug the wall and let them pass. And thats what I did....I put my back to the wall and pressed against it to give them space to pass.  Except it wasn’t a wall.  It was a swing door.

What happened next felt like super slow motion, I fell UP three steps, backwards...stumbling one at a time, and right through the inside door of an Italian restaurant.  On colliding with the second door, my balance, to which I was precariously hanging on as I reversed up the entrance porch, left me entirely and I fell FLAT ON MY ARSE at the foot of a waiter who was carrying a plate of pasta to an otherwise unsuspecting patron.

In the next bazillion seconds.  Nobody moved.  Everybody just stared, wondering why a girl reversed through the door on her buttocks.  Then the obligatory “are you okays” started....I wasn't; but there was no way I was staying around longer than absolutely necessary, so I legged it....noticing as I did that my little finger was at about a 60 degree angle to the rest of my hand and swelling up rapidly.  Didnt care.  I have another hand.  Wanted to get away.

I pushed my bone back in place...excruciating for about 3 seconds, but I know from experience that this is the only way and I went into Starbucks a few doors down to ask for their first aid kit....they were kind enough to give it to me, but there was little or nothing of use to me, and so it transpired that I took my humiliated, bruised corpse back home with my broken finger held in place with an eye patch.

Apart from that, it’s been about ten days since a shag...and my vagina is drying up.