Once upon a time is a good way to start be it a bit of contemplative observational tosh or piece of pure fiction (and thinking about that can fiction of any kind really be described as ‘pure’?).
Anyway once upon a time I decided that it would be an excellent idea to climb a ladder. It wasn’t a particularly tall ladder, in fact it was more your average run of the mill step ladder, venerable but, so I thought, quite sturdy. It had seen better days when it lived in the comfort of my parents house way over the hills in dear old Yorkshire but still, I trusted its base blue hue and mad modern art Jackson Pollock splatterings.
I’d done a fair job of the bush full of its tiny but lethal spikes, I’d done enough for the time being knowing I had time later, when I was less absorbed with other more pressing thoughts. So why did I have to reach for that nearly out of reach branch that curved temptingly, waving to me, beckoning with its array of sharp talons?
Stupidity. Pure and simple. Pass me that nice dunce’s cap with the extra-large ‘D’. And please explain to my poor violated foot, chipped bone and bruised flesh. Anyway I must dash, there is a lawn mower desperate for action, a nice sharp spade to sink into the warm yielding earth, pass me the shears…