This morn, on alighting the train, I slipped on the ungritted ramp which funnels the masses from the platform. Crackharded my shinny hard like off a dummy wall, nearly broke both my leg and paw. Felt pretty damned stupid, 'tis true. Saddened t'see the pointyhairds step over my carcass, nary a thought for their stricken brother, nary one. With luck, I managed to hobbleon t'work, adripping with blood. The first-aider (kindly soul he be) took one woeful look, sucking off teeth and called for an ambulance. Spent the rest of the morn in the casualty bit of the infirmary, crippledlike in a wheely chair, ended up with x-rays and stitches in my afflicted limb... 't would be fair to say, a pretty ****poor day. Whether or whether not the ambulance was strictly necessary depends on your view of corporate sheerbloodymindedness; I'd have been happy in a taximobile but (haha) noway is a multimultibillionpounds company taking any chances, even though it'd have saved the poor NHS a few bob. "Ah well, 'tis true but wi t'decision be out've me own hands, see." Upshoot ofitall being that I get to spend tomorrow and the nextday restful with my feet up, alone or with m'thoughts, in silencio or with music. As they say, Ev'ry cloud has a silv'ry lining... Yours, etcetera in leopoldbloomian melancholy, John
