Flying and Landing

Something a bit momentous happened to me whilst I was dismantling my parent's garden. It crept up on me how bizarre it actually was; I was initially more interested in the emotional/psychological metaphors inherent in gardening but anyway. The old mirror bush project. I had a certain grip on the bush/tree and was pulling on it. It had been partly dismembered and I was hoping that a good tug would pop it over the threshold. That was the idea. Instead, comedy and parrallell universe transference. The twiggery I held broke and because I had my whole body weight hanging off this twiggery and there was a bit of momentum going on, I did not land flat on my back. This would have meant landing on grass. No. Rather, I did a combination of running and falling backwards and there was the flash through me: 'fuck - pain - shit'. Just so you know, there were many obstacles behind me. A concrete step, a concrete path. Pot plants. Other weird debris of my parents. So, expecting pain, big pain was fairly logical of me, even at the speed I was travelling. However, next thing I know ('fuck - pain - shit'), I was sitting in a canvas director's chair. Which sounds as if I slipped dimensions. And actually, it was probably was something not far off that. I was safely sitting in a canvas director's chair, high as a kite on shock and pissing myself laughing.