Here goes...

So, after many moons of deliberation and wringing of the proverbial hands I've decided to take the plunge and write down my natterings for all to see.

Firstly, if other people's angst doesn't appeal to you, you don't laugh at those unfortunate souls who fall down on an icy platform in January, and you don't like sarcasm, redirect your browser now.

For those of you who stuck it out this far, well done, sadly, no prizes or cigars at this point.

So after seven months after my exodus out of London to Africa via Chelmsford life has taken on a new rut, with daily doses of fearing for my life, witnessing public spectacles that are called road works and of course what passes from bureaucracy in this gaff. Tea and lunch times are holier than the sabbath, please do not expect anyone who is a public servant to work past 2 on a Friday, and no Caucasian person will be admitted to the local Chicken Fried place on the 15th of the month.

Then some poor chicken place employee has to stand in middle of the road with a wheely bin to divert traffic to and from the drive thru. Sadly, in Africa, drive thru is still a brand new concept. The driving bit most would get, thru, that's another matter entirely. Why not stay stationary and eat your meal at your leisure, chatting to the window person about more ketchup and napkins, when half the public servants are queuing round the block for their 3 piece meal with pap?

Anyhow, funny thing happened on the way out to lunch today, which has caused quite a bit on discomfort to my lower extremities.I am very fortunate to work in an old converted house, right behind the Magistrate's Court. Beautiful original wooden flooring, wraparound verandah, fabulously landscaped and maintained garden and lawn but, in this part of Alice's wonderland, there are plenty of rabbit holes in disguise. 

While carrying a stack of work back to my illustrious leaders office I had the sense that I'm having an outer body experience,  flying through the air arms & legs flailing much like a doped up squid.  Must've resembled someone trying desperately to audition for Superman when there were no green screens.

See, the floors although fabulous and antique, have been gnawed upon my termites, or lice, or small children.  I'm not quite sure which, and a weakness has been created under some of the floorboards. Muggins here just happened to step on said weakness, the floorboard gave way, my shoe got stuck and i went flying.

Trying to maintain as much dignity as possible, i try not to do a belly flop mid-hallway and instead manage a few more exaggerated steps (like a goose trying to do a water take off) and finally come to a standstill (or lie still, the details are very much unclear) against the beautifully glass stained front door. Twack.

 Note to self, wood floors are overrated.

I now have a patch of skin the size of Australia missing from my chin and i'm reasonably sure i swallowed a filling that rattled loose upon impact.

Now, what's the moral of this story you may ask? Bugger off to lunch on time!