I flew yesterday. My feet literally left the ground and I sailed through the air. It wasn’t very graceful and I am sure had someone seen my flight, it would have caused it’s fair share of guffaws and snickers. Luckily no one was around to see my one woman act, leaving me with a bruised knee but an intact ego.
It was a perilous peel, a sticky slice of orange that set everything in motion, again literally. With one innocent step I lost touch with the ground, banged my knee and sprained my ankle in one massive Chaplin-move.
So I spent the day hobbling around like a horse without his shoes and silently groaning whenever I had to take a step. Sadly that meant no red boots today however I did sport a perfectly purple knee on my lower limb instead.
But no mater how sore my knee or tender my foot I had to chuckle whenever I pictured myself swan-dive to the ground, red boats and dress flying. I do believe even Mr Chaplin would have widened his black rimmed eyes and twitched his moustache in appreciation of my slapstick slide on the a sticky slice.
After all he did say so beautifully:
Laughter is the tonic, the relief, the surcease of pain