Wednesday 9 November 2011

Part 7: Help from the 'Hand of God'

This week, I know how Diego Maradonna felt when he said that goal was scored with the the help of the hand of god. Why? Because I have been blessed by that hand. The only difference is that mine is in the form of a metal litter picker.
Lucky for us, we have 2 lovely, elderly, but very agile neighbours across the road and when they heard about my predicament, came over to offer their help. Ray brought me one of those metal grabbers that they use to reach things in high cupboards. On reflection, when I first saw it, whilst I appreciated the offer, I wasn't too chuffed. All I could think was that an 84 year old has lent me this device because I needed it more than they did. Just hammer another nail in my coffin! What a sad and tragic life I have. Now, I laugh at that thought. This morning, I have been able to get the post from the letter box by merely leaning over the edge of the sofa. I can also reach down to pick up things that I have dropped. To the normal mobile person, this is a simple task. To me, trying to complete this task could earn someone with a video camera some serious money on 'you've been framed'. Unfortunatly, the full glory of the hand of god was shown to me on my morning trip to the bathroom. My careful planning had enabled me to have all my clothes that I would be wearing, in the bathroom. Sitting on the chair in the bathroom, I had just basked in the joys of a flannel wash and was attempting to get dressed. As I was searching through the pile of clothes for a certain pair of undergarments, I noticed them lying on the floor at the side of my chair. Looking around for 'the hand of god' to pick them up, panic hit me. The hand of god had been left downstairs. This series of unfortunate events resulted in me leaning back on the side of the chair with my legs stretched out in a pose not too different from the woman from Flashdance. All I would need was the bathroom ceiling to leak and I reckon I would look just like her! If that didn't work, I would probably have to use my mobile to phone the fire brigade to pick me up off the floor- minus those undergarments. Quickly I have realised that the 'hand of god' is indispensable, if nothing else to make a point that the fire brigade don't get paid enough.

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