It’s getting out of the flat that I live in which is most essential to me, as a method of distraction ( survival ) I’m typing this from the bed in which I died a week and 6 hours ago. I’m going to a wedding today. I’ve no idea who they are, other than it’s Bengali. I’m a ‘ plus one’ of a lady that I met recently. She’s not Bengali either. I’m wondering whether there’ll be tigers?
Last night I spent at Pia’s house. We watched that film ‘ The Hangover ‘ . Everyone has seen it, I’m sure. The stag party go to Vegas and get into a LOT of trouble. The thing for me, is that really there is little in that film that couldn’t have happened to me personally – probably other than going to Mike Tyson’s house and stealing his tiger. That part was a bit far fetched. Those sorts of things really don’t happen to you when you’re paralysed – it’s just impossible. I do miss the fact that now I’m condemned to never having the possibility of very crazy things happening to me. To most people what I’ve just written might sound ridiculous, but most people haven’t led the life I’ve had, or got themselves into the situations that I have ( repeatedly, over and over )
So I’ve started to write my book, or i should say continued it, since I started a while back, then stopped.
Funny things do still happen to me, but admittedly not as funny as the things that used to. Last night I went to Pia’s house, as I said. I’d been out all day on my Triride attachment and wheeled here and there, before going the 5 miles to Pia’s.
At 11.45 I left her house, knowing that my battery was already at half full, and having 6 miles to go. I had the option of trying to get onto a bus, which would have guaranteed my getting back. Obviously I didn’t do that, instead opting to chance my luck at midnight, on the roads.
With about 2 miles to go, the charge indicator had dropped to the last bar of quite a few bars, and i still had hills to go up. Worse than hills, i had to get over the Hogarth roundabout, one of the busiest entrances into London, and still very busy after midnight. As I approached it, I had the option of going under the subway, or over the roundabout. Had I gone under, and run out of charge, i’d have been stuck underground with no phone signal, and totally unable to push myself up the steep slope to get out.
The traffic lights went red as I neared the roundabout. I didn’t know if the battery had enough power to accelerate me from a standing start, into the roundabout, through 2 sets of lights, and then through to Chiswick, or not…
As I waited for the light to go green, and knowing that if the motor failed I’d be stuck in the middle of the road and almost certain to be run over within a few seconds, a bloke pulled up beside me in the next lane in a white Ferrari. I looked sideways at him, to find him looking at me..
When the lights went green, he did actually tear off. Was he really trying to beat me off the lights? Did it really count as a victory for him? I don’t know…
The motor got me through the first light, but by the time I got to the second it was turning red. Had I stopped, I reckon I’d not have started again so I effectively ran a red light, at past midnight, on the Hogarth roundabout. People were actually beeping me… I don’t know to what effect really – I mean what the f*** was I supposed to do at that point?
To my amazement I made it back the remaining half mile to where I live, where Stella was waiting.
I reckon that’s another life used up?