Friday, 8 September 2017

Did I tell you about when... I got run over

Off to the beach, Yay! This is Greece, so nothing odd there except that we were in the grip of capital controls. Mr. Schauble and his Eurogroup were rapping naughty Mr. Varoufakis’ knuckles by shutting down our banks. My adopted home was in a state of panic. The cash machines would allow only €40 to be withdrawn each day and everybody wanted their money out. There was a slow but persistent run on the banks and queueing at the ATM had begun to dominate everybody’s day. So we went to splash in the sea and top up our tans.

Twitshot
It was a bright and pleasant morning, bollocks it was! Greek summer had kicked in and we felt like spicy KFC wings. People often say that I must have gotten used to the heat but I ask you this, do chickens get used to roasting? We loaded the car with inflatable toys and umbrellas like a bargain bucket for kids and headed for the coast.
We dived and splashed and drank frappe until finally, we were baked and ready to head home for austerity pie. On route we passed through a busy high street so I decided to stop and empty my accounts some more. I had four accounts at different banks and flip-flopped around the various machines, waiting in line to add to the trot on the banks. Eventually, I had taken my daily allowance from each of the machines and as I was wearing beach shorts, I had the cash and cards in my hand and a fog in my head, how much longer could we stand living in this teenager’s bedroom of a country? Surely we could earn enough back in my native Britain to not have to go through this and still be able to visit her beaches frequently enough. And, what about the kids, shouldn’t we take them somewhere where they would have a future. I swung my head checking the traffic, my cards and cash gripped firmly in my fist. I stepped off the curb. I heard the screech of brakes. The cracking of plastic and glass. I saw a car pass me. The horror in the passenger’s eyes. I spun. The tyres stopped squealing. I was sat on my arse in the middle of the road with one flip-flop. My wife ran across the road her mouth making wide vowels. I told her to take the cash and cards still firmly in my grasp. Yes, I really am that tight!
The passenger ran over in a sea of apologies, the driver still clinging to the wheel probably fearing the next few years in a Greek jail. He asked if I was alright and I told him to pull me to my feet. I limped to the other side of the street and started pacing. The driver joined us and by the look on his face he had already imagined dropping the soap. My foot was heavy but in no great pain, the pain in my left arm that had been holding the cash was seeping through the adrenaline. My wife checked me over for damage. Nothing apart from my elbow and foot. The car had gone over my right foot, my elbow had struck the windscreen, breaking it, my body had shattered the door mirror. My mind was racing over every frame of the scene. I continued pacing, ignoring the pleas to sit down. My foot was getting heavier, I didn’t want it to seize.
We exchanged contact details with the driver and he promised to take care of any expenses, a promise he held. Then we went home, my wife asking me over and over if I wanted to go to the hospital.
Later she and my mate convinced me to go. Say what you like about Greek hospitals but they keep the sick off the streets. I had Vangelis’ Midnight Express theme ringing in my ears. Vangelis is Greek, I wondered if he’d visited many hospitals.
The doctors were more concerned about me reporting the incident. I told them the car was Italian and I was British, no contest really. Fortunately, I had no breaks just a swollen foot. Same foot, incidentally as in the truck accident. My football career was over before it had even started. But, hey, I only have two so I guess it would always be 50/50.
As I left the hospital, I bumped into my youngest’s godmother. She was on crutches, she had broken her fibula tripping up a curb.
I prefer not to think about what could have happened. What did happen was that I got hit by a car and came off better. What did happen was that I was reminded of the tightrope we walk, one slip and the planet will hit you hard. Down will come up and bitch slap you out of existence.
But this was not my time.


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7 comments:

  1. As funny as the bike accident?

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  2. Whooah! Lucky escape for you! And lucky for all of us that you're still here to tell the tale. 🍀 🚘

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  3. Thank you, my dear. There are more to come...

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  4. Wow, you are like Thor. David, the god of thunder, bringing pain to windscreens all over. That had to hurt like hell!!!

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    Replies
    1. Truth is Tim, adrenaline plays a big role. Once that fades it did smart some... But just between us, right.

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    2. And needless to say, I didn't go running for some time after...

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