Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Falling down Splat

Today I'm thinking about falling down: 'Splat!'. Not the messy type of falling down that results in injuries or damage to property, that's more of a 'squelch' or a 'tinkle tinkle crash' depending on which of the two it is. I'm talking about those times you fall hard, land loudly and are able to get up and walk away with only bruises to ego (and possibly knees) to show for it.

I've done it quite spectacularly on occasion. Luckily, I'm not too worried about impressing people any more, because it does make one look silly and clumsy. Having come to terms with the fact that I am both silly and clumsy, I live with falling down splat much better than I used to, which is just as well because I also seem to be doing it more frequently. Here's a pic of me contemplating the next splat.

These days, it involves the mountain and invariably there'll be a stream or waterfall for me to slide into after splatting. Actually, my first memorable splat was in a concrete canal, so only the environment has changed. I remember that one, it was my sixteenth birthday and I was taking the 'freeway' through Pretoria that my mates and I frequented - namely the canal.

It was one of those deep, concrete canals with only a trickle of water going down the middle and occasional patches of slime where storm water pipes drained into it. My friends were discussing all the times they'd fallen into it, and I have to go and say 'I've never fallen into the water before' just as I put my foot on a particularly verdant patch of slime and went arse over tit. Splat!

The splatting wasn't so bad, but it was a bit iffy walking around with my new skirt all coated in green and rather smelly slime. I looked like the swamp thing, I did really.

Another good splatting happened when I was a working gel on a farm. The boss used to come once a week, and I'd invariably be covered in compost smears and plant blood (which isn't always green). So the boss says 'You're the manager around heah, please make more of an effort to look like one.'

The following week, I'm all geared up for her visit, wearing my best trousers, and I inform the team that I'm staying clean for the boss. They all know I'm edgy about the visit, so when her car comes in to the farm, the worker I'm talking to says 'Here she is!', so I turn around to look, only the pathways are red clay and wet from the irrigation so with the turning I find I'm suddenly spinning like an ice skater. I try to stop spinning and... Splat! Red clay from head to toe.

I limped up to the boss's merc, and I must have been a sorry sight. 'I think I need a shower' says I, and she looks me up and down and says in the coldest of tones 'I think you do.' No bloody sense of humor.

My recent splattings have been only slightly less messy, but at least they've taken place in the company of friends, which means that they laugh, but only after I've confirmed that I'm alright, and then they tease me like anything and I laugh too becuase fortunately, fortunately I'm not too upset when I'm caught doing something undignified and ungraceful.

I've a feeling I'd have to go 'underground' if I did mind, really. I seem to do it a lot.


  1. I'm sparing you my usual and seemingly interminable comments to say, what a nicely paced, well-written piece. You're a natural. Would you mind awfully if I "followed" your blog?

  2. Thanks for all the comments. I'm enjoying them muchly. Hope you'll write more soon yourself.

  3. I thought you were talkign metaphorically until the third paragraph when the mountain came into the picture, at which point I was like, "?"