The One Where I Fall On My Ass
Yesterday, to my very great surprise, there was clearly some kind of disturbance in the Force, and the weather changed from “Unbelieveably, heart-rendingly awful” to an approximation of a pleasant spring day. That’s about as good as it gets in Scotland, so naturally we all (“we all” being my parents, Terry, the dog and I) jumped into the car and headed to the beach.
The beach we went to was at North Berwick, which,as some of you know, has the distinction of being my Favourite Place in the Whole of Scotland. It’s a pretty little seaside town, with lots of little restaurants and bars, and oh, a great big old volcanic plug, called Berwick Law. Here is a picture of Berwick Law :
Here is a picture of me, Terry and Rubin on the very top of Berwick Law, which is steeper than it looks, let me tell you:
And here is a short video of me falling flat on my ass on the way back down:
Notice the way my family all come rushing to my aid… they clearly weren’t too concerned, because obviously I do this kind of thing A LOT. The long pause after I land was caused partly by my reluctance to accept my own clumsiness, and partly by my quiet conviction that I had broken my right wrist. Which I hadn’t, luckily.
Just a few minutes after this I almost fell again, the result being that my parents had to take an arm each, and half-carry me down the hill, like Amy Winehouse being escorted out of a nightclub. As my dad said, people were probably looking at us thinking, “Tut, tut, drunk in the middle of the day!” This time, though, my complete inability to walk unaided was caused by my shoes, which my dad described as “ridiculous” and I described as “the only flat shoes I own, what do you expect me to wear?” So, yes, fun for all the family! And ridiculous shoes = the only kind you’ll ever need…
Actually, falling-on-ass aside, we had an excellent day, and I have spent most of my time since we got back looking at property prices in North Berwick on the internet, because it’s one of the few places in Scotland I can actually imagine myself being happy to live in. It’s only 30 minutes from Edinburgh by train, and I’ve always wanted to live by the sea, but unfortunately so do a lot of other people, as property is really expensive there, and as things stand, Terry and I could possibly stretch to a one bedroom flat, but only if we give up food and send Rubin out to work. Still, it’s a more realistic dream than my “cross my fingers and hope the American government will let me live in Florida” one, so I’m going to continue to persue it.
And also to look into buying more sensible shoes…