Are we just falling stars dancing across the sky
Bonjour from Les Gets, where my concussion and I are having a lovely time, thank you. Oooh and isn’t it HOT? Although it rained here this morning, which was nice.
OK, that’s the British Weather Bullshit out of the way. Now let me tell you about my latest attempt to kill my remaining braincells. To be honest, that’s kind of the entire story – I cracked my head on the beam above my bed in the wee small hours of Monday morning. There was blood and wailing and gnashing of teeth, and the all important staggering around a bit, being dramatic. Alas, I had no audience for the last bit because any sensible human was asleep at that ungodly hour – but I did it anyway, just in case. It did make food shopping a few hours later a far more pleasant experience – for me, anyway. I loathe shopping of any kind, so wafting around in a drifty daze, not caring that I was getting in everybody’s way, and contributing absolutely nothing to the experience suited me just fine.
A minor head injury has coincided neatly with me going back to work. So that’s another week where the safety of financial services can be assured, then. With a broken head and a broken leg, I’m starting to glance nervously around, wondering what’s going to fall off next.
Still, if I have to do the rehab phase of injury, there isn’t a better place to be. Les Gets is as beautiful as ever and yesterday saw us heading up Mont Chéry in the télécabine, to check that everything was still as it should be.
Facing a long period of no running and very little walking has taken some mental adjustment over the past few weeks, and none more so than when we arrived here. However, I’ve accepted, just, that I have to Submit to this. I’ve rarely submitted to anything in my life, but 51 is not too old to learn some new tricks, right? In the spirit of making the best of it, I’ve signed up with the gym in the village – mainly, to be fair, because it’s well over 30 degrees here and the gym has air conditioning – in the hope that I can maintain some fitness whilst also cross training. In all senses of the word. Watch this space for crushing injuries.
Our flying visit to Les Contamines en route to here was short, but extremely sweet. Having my two closest friends living in the south of France and Saudi means we rarely see each other in person, and when we do we have to fit a packed agenda into an incredibly short timescale. Our precious time is never enough, but we managed to fit in a years’ worth of catching up, crémant, some tears, laughing until we could barely stand up, a lot of cheese and admiration of toy trucks into a little over 12 hours. Saying goodbye involved some gritted teeth and muttering of “don’t make me cry again”..and then they were gone, headed for Italy and more adventures before they fly back to Saudi. And that will sustain me until we meet again, next summer.
In the meantime, if anybody wants me I’ll be lying on the sofa, preserving the bits of me that are still intact and practising submitting to things.
