Friday, 19 March 2010

Today I was woken up by an almighty thump. Nearly had a heart attack - thought there was a burglar, or something had fallen through the roof. I plunged my legs into my trousers and stumbled out of HQ on to the landing, to see Fran half way down in the darkness where the stairs turn left, in a moaning heap.

‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ I said. Meaning, of course, are you OK.

‘I went right,’ she said, looking at the offending wall that stood in her way. She had a cut on her forehead, but in the end, once we’d exhausted the potential of my first aid supplies, it wasn’t as bad as it looked. It bled for a little while but I think the little bandage was enough.

I asked her why she turned right when even in the darkness she knew the stairs went left, and they had a habit of going left, a track history of going left; and she said she'd got used to turning right, this last week.

‘You mean left,’ I said.
‘I was used to turning right,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Does this happen a lot?’
‘Yes.’

We looked at each other.

‘I'm going to work,’ I said.