The September Issue vol.1 chp 8 I like not being able to ride a bicycle...

...but you don't, I told him. What's so wrong about not being able to? I can take public transport, or a cab, or hell, I could walk. Sōsuke was on a crusade. Apparently it was unnatural, unthinkable that I couldn't ride a bike and I needed to learn immediately. I tried to convince him that I was too old and too easily bruised to worry about crap like that. But as I said he was on a crusade and wasn't taking "No!" for an answer. That's what led to me laying flat on my back in pain everywhere except for my ears.

He'd woken me up at 8 am that Saturday and considering I'd gone to bed at 3 am I was not pleased. I was hoping that if I ignored the doorbell long enough he'd get tired and berate me later. So I waited it out and he did leave after about 10 mins so I went back to my fantasy with classic Wentworth. All of a sudden I heard my front door open and my landlord's booming voice. The fucker had gotten my landlord to let him in. I was so incensed I got up without thinking. Two things happened: first, I exposed myself in my panties white, with a pink bow; second, I had a tumble - I suffer from chronic low BP, if I get up too quickly, everything goes black, I loose my balance. And that's just what happened. Luckily I was standing next to the wall so it braced my fall. It took about 15 seconds to clear up and when I could see again, there he was. You couldn't leave it alone could you? He grinned and said that he was worried. An obvious lie. I told my landlord that I was okay. He left and I went to the bathroom. There was no fighting with this idiot today and I was never gonna get my time with Wentworth back.

After I'd gotten dressed and he'd raided my fridge, we headed off to the park. We found a quiet spot on a hill-ish area and he started going through the basics of cycling  ie. peddle, breaks...wheel. I asked for training wheels but he said those were useless. He was on a mission to teach me and there was no stopping him. While he was spewing some crap about Voeckler and Sanchez I found myself wondering how the hell we got hear. I was a shit English teacher as it turned out; the only things I ever manged to get across to him were the swear words, but maybe that was because of my unruly student.

I finally got on and he pushed. It all happened very quickly. He said something about the best way to learn as he did so. I don't know what I replied but I'm pretty sure it wasn't PG-13. I don't remember much else. I'm pretty sure that my mind blocked out the trauma. I never actually passed out or anything but when I heard his footsteps I pretended to. He should be made to feel bad. I was soar, bruised and generally pissed off because of him. I've never in my life seen my melanin-rich skin so bruised. When we got back to my flat and he settled me on the couch, I told him that we were never doing that again. How about training wheels he said. We both smiled. As he got up to leave, I asked if he'd had a good birthday. The best he replied.

Interimission

I feel bad. I've neglected the blog I've come to love so much. And tthere are no proper explanations. I was busy, but I wasn't busy with anything special. In fact it was bloody boring stuff. In between that busy and boring stuff it was easier to not write or think about writing. But now I'm on this ricketty old PC on a Sunday with nothing to do and I get the urge to write. Truth be told I've been thinking about writing for the past couple of weeks except I have no pens in hand when this lightening bolt strikes and so the idea I had about the announcer at Waterloo or the woman with three bags is filed under my things I'll eventually get around to doing list.
What was it I was gonna tell you again...? My life, my impending doom and my constant waiting. Well, all of those things are still going on and I'm okay with that, people (I mean my family) still piss me off but now I'm gainfully employed. Yes that's right, I have an income. Unfortunately, it's an income courtesy of your local fast food restaurant (it rhymes with Ronald's). Normally I'm pretty miserable about it, but then I see my pacheck and little it may be, it's my own.