Lately I've been gadding about town with a bit of a limp. I prefer to tell people I fell off my skateboard - but the unsympathetic responses have caused me to rethink wanting to claim street cred and a hip lifestyle. In all honesty, I fell down some stairs whilst getting up to go to the loo at the movies. It was hangover 2 (people always ask) and no it wasn't worth it.
When you've got a busted knee your entire life changes. Everything is suddenly much much slower. You notice stuff more. You're crankier and for longer. It divides friends neatly as being either useful and supportive or selfish and disappointing. I'm fortunate to have any of the former. Things that you never gave any thought to before are suddenly a source of constant irritation. Lifthogs at train stations for one. Those lifts are there for people who are disabled and for those of us with prams. Every morning the same scene plays out and big parts of me come very close to chucking a very big and messy tantrum. Because I have a limp (and as of Monday I'll have a walking stick as well) I'm slower on my feet. By the time I get anywhere near the lift - it's full of perfectly able bodied people who don't hold it for me - the only person who actually needs to use it - who all seem perfectly happy to watch me hobbling towards them whilst not actually making the connection that the lift is actually for people like me who CANNOT MANAGE STAIRS.
It wasn't that long ago whilst on crutches and a full leg brace I attempted to catch a bus. It has to be said that nearly all bus drivers are absolutely wonderful human beings, I could have cried with gratitude for their attentiveness and thoughtfulness - making the bus kneel down to save me from having to hop upwards (a risky manouver at any time really) and always waiting until I was properly seated before driving off. Always asking where I was getting off to save me from having to get up and ring the bell. One afternoon in the midst of a downpour (not a good predicament to be in when you're on crutches) I caught a bus home from the shops. A woman was waiting with me, and I could tell by the way she flicked her umbrella in my face that she wasn't the sort predisposed to consideration of others. When she plonked herself down in the disabled seat ahead of me I was gobsmacked.
I could have kissed the lovely schoolgirl who leapt up and offered me her seat - I wonder if she realises how much of a difference her considerate behaviour makes to other peoples lives? Not all teenagers are self-absorbed lumps of grunt and apathy. The cow who raced ahead of me and plonked her broad boackside down in the DISABLED SEATING might have noticed burnt hair and odd indentations in the back of her head when she arrived home. Or maybe she didn't. Sadly, she's not the only one whose behaviour has caused my blood pressure to rise in recent weeks.
Take the young man at St Leonards Station yesterday morning - he had watched me limp along the platform towards him. I could tell he lived utterly in his own bubble by the way he stood directly in front of the doors of the train when it pulled in. You're meant to STAND TO THE SIDE it gives the people who are inside the train and want to get off room to do so. If you stand in front of the doors, it actually causes a roadblock inside the train as people have to duck and dive to get around you. Bubbleboy raced in to the train ahead of me and took the only available seat in the vestibule area and started writing a text message. I wanted to clout him.
When I get my walking stick I fully intend to use it to rap shins of people just like this.
Fortunately a lovely young woman seated behind me had noticed I have a limp and asked the man next to her to shuffle up so there was room for me to sit down. See? An injury like this cleanly divides considerate people from inconsiderate oxygen-wasters. Just like that.
