Being a stuffed animal has its plus points – you don’t have to wash up, you don’t have to be the designated driver, and you don’t have to walk on the perilous shared foot- and cycle- paths of this fine country. No case finer in point than this weekend. A real highlight of my lovely weekend with Kate’s friends (let’s call them S and N!) was a midday stroll by the river. My natural habitat, I enjoyed the fresh air, the tranquillity, the company, the tinkle of a little cycle bell, a skidding sound and…. BANG….S got taken out from behind by an old woman on a bike. Whoa, Old Woman!
Despite profuse apologies from both sides, the old woman refused to accept the “I’m ok, it’s fine” answer and needed to torture herself with S’s gruesome injuries – she grabbed the hand with the ‘puncture’ wound and almost burst into tears, refusing to let go of it, stroking it – one step away from rubbing it on her face – like she could fix it through reiki. She offered her phone number, which was graciously refused (not sure if it was for litigation or future masochistic friendship potential), and as awkward as this was, it was also hilarious as she proceeded to tell S that she would be too shaken up to cycle home after all the trauma…..and then got back on her bike and cycled away at a steady pace….
What do a duck and a bike have in common? They both have handle bars except for the duck