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Death by Nylons
As many as my close friends and family and co-workers will know I had another drunk accident recently resulting in a much moaned about back injury. However my quandary is, will the pain I am experiencing right now mean that I will forever more have a fear of my beloved retro nylons? It was said nylons which contributed to my crash landing down a flight of small stairs in ones house. The nylon and carpet friction failed to work and ended up with me having a rather sore bottom and spilling gin all over the wall, neither outcome a happy one. As I screeched out in pain from my falling down a whole 5 stairs, no one came to my rescue even though our house had at least 15 very well dressed people in it. It would seem the bellowing of the latest Sing Star heat was beating my wavering tears. As I struggled back into my 1940’s stiff upper lip demeanor, I poured myself another gin and got on with my evening. The following day HOWEVER was a complete other story, every cough, laugh, sneeze resulted in crippling pain and a tearful eye, damn that alcohol wearing off it helps so much with phasing out pain, memory and standards.
I have a rather comprehensive history that involves me, alcohol and injury, one which started at 16 and shows no signs of ceasing. My list of injuries include knocking out teeth, breaking a toe, fracturing a collar done, busting open my knee & lip the list goes on, I am currently still sporting a mark from falling down the stairs in April! The problem with all my injuries is that I think my boss thinks I’m winding her up with all my fantastical stories of hospital visits and pain killers galore. I went through my childhood willing a broken bone so I could sport a plaster cast for my amigos to sign, the reality being that you get rubbish medication (some please give me a cortisone injection) and have to sit on a pillow at work and become the laughing stock of the office. Worse than that my current injury finds me clasping my lower back/buttocks area quite a lot, and I have to do it in public or I can’t get out of the train seat, bring on unwanted attention of strangers.
The revelation that pains me is that perhaps my pretty green lined nylons are not to blame for all my agonizing incidences but maybe... yes perhaps maybe… I can’t believe I am going to say this… I have a massive alc balance problem. I blame my lack of dedication to my tap career.
As many as my close friends and family and co-workers will know I had another drunk accident recently resulting in a much moaned about back injury. However my quandary is, will the pain I am experiencing right now mean that I will forever more have a fear of my beloved retro nylons? It was said nylons which contributed to my crash landing down a flight of small stairs in ones house. The nylon and carpet friction failed to work and ended up with me having a rather sore bottom and spilling gin all over the wall, neither outcome a happy one. As I screeched out in pain from my falling down a whole 5 stairs, no one came to my rescue even though our house had at least 15 very well dressed people in it. It would seem the bellowing of the latest Sing Star heat was beating my wavering tears. As I struggled back into my 1940’s stiff upper lip demeanor, I poured myself another gin and got on with my evening. The following day HOWEVER was a complete other story, every cough, laugh, sneeze resulted in crippling pain and a tearful eye, damn that alcohol wearing off it helps so much with phasing out pain, memory and standards. 
I have a rather comprehensive history that involves me, alcohol and injury, one which started at 16 and shows no signs of ceasing. My list of injuries include knocking out teeth, breaking a toe, fracturing a collar done, busting open my knee & lip the list goes on, I am currently still sporting a mark from falling down the stairs in April! The problem with all my injuries is that I think my boss thinks I’m winding her up with all my fantastical stories of hospital visits and pain killers galore. I went through my childhood willing a broken bone so I could sport a plaster cast for my amigos to sign, the reality being that you get rubbish medication (some please give me a cortisone injection) and have to sit on a pillow at work and become the laughing stock of the office. Worse than that my current injury finds me clasping my lower back/buttocks area quite a lot, and I have to do it in public or I can’t get out of the train seat, bring on unwanted attention of strangers.
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