Monday, May 14, 2007

I am a walking cliche. Yesterday I was going to the Camberwell Market with my parents, and as we went to turn into the car park we noticed a Porsche parked in the bus stop. We were tutting to each other about irresponsible Porsche owners who have so much money they don't care about parking tickets.

Then we parked our own car and as we walked past the Porsche I noticed that it had a "For Sale" sign on it. I went to tell this to my parents, but as I turned my head around I walked smack into a pole. DOINK!

I didn't realise what had happened at first, until a shocked middle-aged woman who had been walking in the opposite direction said, "Are you all right?" and then I burst out laughing. It was all so slapstick, you see - me walking into a pole while ogling a Porsche. I laughed raucously all the way into the market and my mother was going, "Shhh! Shhhh!" possibly thinking about what an undignified and embarrassing daughter she had raised.

The least satisfying part of this story is that I don't have a mark on me. I would have liked a pole-shaped stripe of bruise down my forehead, or a black eye or something. But instead all I got is a tender spot on my forehead, a headache yesterday afternoon, and a stiff neck when I woke up this morning. It is very annoying.

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