There is a good reason I wasn't named Grace

On Saturday, I left the library after I blogged-and everything should have been fine. Except, it wasn't. It had been raining, so I had my umbrella up, and my hands were full. Bad mistake. I was walking down the concrete steps outside-which were wet-and, I discovered (too late) slippery. I took a header down and landed on my left knee-which was (up until then) my good knee. I hit my left arm, scraped my left side, and my poor old knee-I thought I'd broken something.

I was flat on my face in the mud and wet, and was stunned for a few minutes; it took me a good five or ten minutes to get myself up. And people were walking over me and around me; not a single person stopped to see if they could help. That upset me more than being injured: not a soul even asked if I was okay.

Now, I make fun of the Brits all the time (as you bloggees know by now). It's fun (sometimes), it certainly is easy to take pot shots at people who have the collective intelligence of a snickerdoodle. But I can now add that most Brits (not all-most, in my vast experience of living here many years) are rude, have no class or manners or intelligence, and don't give a rat's patootie about anyone but themselves. To say I was fuming is an understatement.

Really-anyone who still believes that this place is like Four Weddings and a Funeral, or that the British have manners, class, politeness, integrity, intelligence, honesty-is a total idiot. I certainly can't blame this appalling treatment on Saturday (or the horrendous treatment of the past two years and eight months-and before) to the xenophobia that is rampant in this country, because people didn't even stop to find out who I was, let alone help me (or offer to help me) get on my feet. Some of them even laughed. Now I just look at all of them with nothing but the greatest contempt and derision. Brits suck.

So there is my rant-and I think it is well justified-although I have to also say that I have met some very lovely people here: intelligent, polite, funny, kind-but now I think that good people are in the small minority, not the majority (as I had wanted to believe). Sad country, this one. It's even sadder that I am now stuck here. If I could come home and find work, I would be on the next plane, and I wouldn't let the door hit me in the ass on the way out. Happily, I'm not the only one who feels that way: people are emigrating in huge numbers. No surprise there at all. Absolutely none.

And-I learned the hard (and painful) way that I must always have one hand free and be near a railing of some kind when walking up or down stairs, just in case. No brollies up in the rain; I will just get wet. So what? I like rain. I don't especially like being out in a monsoon, but I don't mind getting a little wet!

Now I am limping on both legs! So, no gym until the swelling goes down (I expect to be back there tomorrow). I'm lucky I didn't break any bones; that would be a trip to the hospital. And we all know how successful my hospital journeys have been!! Sometimes I think that being treated by a chimpanzee would be more effective; it would certainly be safer.

So yesterday I decided to get over feeling sorry for myself-I stayed in the rest of Saturday, wiping up the blood, icing my leg, and treating all the cuts, and feeling really depressed-and I took myself to the Unitarian Church. It was my second visit. It was very different. The minister was joking, people were laughing and happy...and the sermon was on the "cult of advertising". Reverend Andy was excellent, and I was able to speak with more of the congregation after the service. There was no talk of repentence, or anyone dying for our sins, or going to Hell if we didn't do what we were told...it is very different from your usual church service. I quite liked it, even though my bruises were aching and my knees were (and still are) the size of melons (small melons-honeydews, probably).

I've been creaking since Saturday, like a rusty hinge, or the Tinman out of the Wizard of Oz. I'm not sure if I need oil-or brandy. I think I prefer the brandy; at least I would forget the pain!!

It is supposed to get even colder and rain all week-so forewarned is forearmed, I say. No brollies up when walking up or down stairs! And one hand always free in case I need to grab something to keep from falling. I would grab someone, but I would probably be stabbed!!

Last night I toasted my Irish friends with a glass of Guinness. I haven't had Guinness in years. I really liked it. I'm sure there are many hangovers this morning-but at least I didn't have one from ONE glass of Guinness!! Perhaps I should take up drinking....