Art Mimics Life, or is it Life mimics Art.

    I sat on the bedroom floor at 7am this Saturday morning; I didn't mean to! I had sat on the duvet, a shiny 'posh' affair chosen by my wife,  preparing to go to the toilet (me not the wife) when I suddenly slid gracefully to the floor. A bit of a surprise, but no problem, I sat upright, unhurt except for my dignity and smiled at the absurdity of it all. Only when I prepared to get up, I realised I had a problem.            Not exactly fit at the best of times, 'at this moment in time' (what at irritating saying so reminiscent of politicians and equally dim footballers ) I am awaiting further knee surgery in November to correct my 'duff' new knee.) Thus no way could I return myself to the vertical from sitting on my backside on any floor, be it bar or bedroom. (I would have considered the former the most likely 'happening' had you asked me prior to my unfortunate accident) I contemplated my predicament, (and my navel as I sleep 'unclothed' as they say). I bet you didn't wish to know that; too much information as they say nowadays. Not necessarily a pretty sight, admittedly at twenty five, even less so at seventy plus! Having said that, is there anything dafter in life than a seventy three year old sitting on the floor with no clothes on!

    Alfie, our 'holiday' dog for the week, who misses nothing, joined me, grinning profusely; please don't tell me dogs don't grin, this one does. A Rotweiller crossed with a Labrador, Alfie is around 100lbs in weight I reckon; big enough to pick me up, surely? Drag me to a phone? No, well at least he kept me company! Mind you, we've had dogs stay in the past that would have done better. Harry, scruff Harry would have fetched me the phone. Charlie the Bull Terrier would have gone in the fridge , which he frequently did when we were out and brought me some food. Kai the Collie is so bright he would have not needed to bring the phone, he would probably have made a phone call himself! All of which counted for nothing.

    I was becoming a little despondent when in the doorway salvation appeared in the shape of Paulette my long suffering wife. I feel I must explain why my wife appeared from elsewhere. We are not merely

'good friends'. We are more than that! But my wife insists that my snoring 'allegedly' is of astronomic proportions. So much so that she starts the night in our 'marital bed', retreats to another room when I go to sleep and returns in the early hours. A goodly arrangement. Remind me to tape record my wife when asleep. I am not the only one who snores, my dear!

    A little surprised at my predicament, though not exceptionally so (she reckons I do some daft things at times) she attempted to lift me to an upright position. Alas, to no avail. The saying 'Not as strong as a good onion' springs to mind. In fairness my wife is not in the best of health plus forty three years of caring for me has taken its toll!

    Somewhat flummoxed we surveyed the situation. Who is responsible for 'retrieving' geriatrics from bedroom floors; The Police, Fire or Ambulance Service? Try sons-in-laws, especially if they live in the same street! A phone call was all that was needed. Simon my son-in-law is a good lad. Plus he'd only been backward and forward to London all week problem solving for his employers Bombardier. He didn't really want a lie in on this Saturday morning, surely? If I hadn't rang him, his children, Ted, Tommy and Angelina would have ensured he'd have only been lazing in bed until some ungodly hour! (Chance would have been a fine thing!)

    Ten minutes, that's all it took for Simon to dress, stroll up the street to our house and oh, so easily restore me to an upright position. Thanks Simon! Ah, the joys of getting old! Does it ring a bell, anyone?

     Some time ago I wrote a book of short stories, entitled 'There's Nowt So Strange As Folk and other stories'. Something I always wanted to do, some of the stories are loosely taken from personal experiences, but others are completely made up. The first story is called 'The Fall Guy' and concerns an eighty four year old called James who falls in the house whilst preparing his breakfast! The main difference to my own experience was the fact that James had no son-in-law to hand. Plus James's predicament lasted several days rather than mere minutes. Hence the title of this post. Isn't life strange at times!