Arse-over-tit, a 2.2 second writerly experience.

This morning I almost went arse-over-tit.

 
I was walking the Olster and the new pup, Barney. It was one of those rare life-flashes-before-the-eyes moments, only it wasn’t quite my life flashing before my eyes; it was more like observing a dual processor at work during the 2.2 seconds I spent looking like a wally. One processor choosing and guiding the path for my frantically spastic feet as they treaded ground like a broken marionette on speed, the other processor imagining the injuries that might be sustained whilst weighing up the pain and recovery factors from two options: face-first into a bramble bush (on right of picture) that’s taller than me with spikes like sharks’ teeth, or head-first down the steep slope where hard ground riddled with poking bricks is just waiting to find out how tough my teeth are.

gradient

The Olster, standing on the brow of the slope.

I don’t know how I tripped or stumbled or what actually happened, but all those thoughts really were `flashing` through my mind for the duration of my frantic scarecrow dance. The Olster was a little way ahead, and the new pup, Barney was on a long-leash, also ahead, so I guess I stumbled on something I’ve passed over a hundred times before. It felt almost like I’d been pushed, but maybe that was gravity at work on the gradient. Arms flapping, feet stomping, how the hell I stayed upright I really don’t know. When I eventually stopped I looked back to where I started. I must have flapped and stomped for a good fifteen feet, and this journey, which must have only taken 2.2 seconds, was so thudderingly violent that my jogging pants had slipped down and my bare arse was flying in the breeze, and both dogs were staring at me as if wondering what Dad’s new dance was all about.

newpup

New pup, Barney.

Thankfully none of the other dog-walkers I usually see were around to witness me being silly or to film me for You’ve Been Framed. But what amazed me was the slowing of time – or more: the speeding up of thought process. How one was aware of choices (bramble spikes or downhill fall), weighing up injury possibilities, whilst sending messages at lightning speeds to various flailing limbs in an attempt to guide the body to safety.

Ollie

Ollie

Fifteen feet travelled in 2.2 seconds and a whole lot of analysis and instruction going on. Impressive stuff. I finished walking the dogs on a fearless and invigorating adrenaline high, thankful that my arse was not captured on film, and also that I didn’t crush a dog.

Happy days!

Advertisements
Leave a comment

2 Comments

  1. Mind-boggling! Glad you’re all right, Johnny.

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: