I am a clutz. Yesterday morning I was energetically bounding about my house, leaping up and down the stairs with gay abandon. Game of Fifa here, episode of Never Mind the Buzzcocks there. Until at roughly 10:00 AM. At 10:00 AM it all went tits up, I fell up the stairs. But not just a normal fall up the stairs. It wasn't a half hearted stumble, it wasn't even a standard slip. I was flying up the stairs, full throttle, and at the top I went to turn right. But, as I mentioned, I am a clutz. I caught my right foot and fell, all ten stone of me, head (or shoulder) into the wall. I did manage to put a bit of a crack/dent in the wall. Flimsy plasterboard. I shall now upload a photo of the crack so that you can visualise the force with which I clattered into the wall.
About an hour after the incident my vision went a little fuzzy, seeing stars and all of that malarkey. I then felt slightly nauseous. After lunch both of them thinks teamed up with a splitting head ache convinced me that it was time to go home and go to bed. Missing a physics lesson was an unfortunate side effect of that. After speaking to my Dad (a man not trained in medicine, in fact he works in IT) he reckons I have really mild concussion. I just like to think of it as life's way of evening things out. Win a game of football, next day you hurt your head. Bugger that.
No comments:
Post a Comment