Day 124: Oooh, Betty

Everybody has occasional moments of amazing grace.

Hitting the sweet spot with a perfectly-executed dive.  A bull's eye.  A smoothly-pocketed pool ball.  A text-book omelette.  A one-handed catch.  Some people have more than their fair share, but everyone gets a piece of the action. 

Over the last few days, I have not been one of them. I am currently a catalogue of klutz.  A slap of stick.

I have broken the blender.  Totalled my laptop*.  Yesterday I trapped my bag in the train doors. It was a frenzied four-person struggle (on-platform and in-carriage) to free it. I skinned my knuckles. And my ego.

In the evening I accidentally booted a wooden trunk incredibly hard.  No shoes. It was eye-watering.  I think I've cracked something - judging by the sharp shooting pain when I walk.

And it appears that I have not managed to fully load the map on my satnav.  I've done a half-job - it refuses to recognise the second half of any post code.  Essentially it is shrugging and saying 'I can get you to somewhere within a five mile radius of your chosen destination.  After that, it's your shout.'  Very unmellow to discover this at six o'clock this morning. 

It's just as well that I do not believe in voodoo, or I'd be tempted to think that someone was getting busy with some pins and some wax.  But as it is, I don't think I can hang this on anyone else.  Picasso had a Blue Period.  I am simply having a Frank Spencer Period.

* Still haven't totally given up on the hard drive - am crossing fingers that I will at least be able to salvage something.  When I say 'something' I mean accounts, work, pictures, music, footage of last year's Edinburgh show etc etc.  Not backed-up, natch...

'Oooh, Betty.  The cat did a whoopsie in my beret.'

Quite.