A time for decisions

It was quiet in 'Accident & Emergency'. Not at all like on the telly, with people shouting and swearing and abusing the staff. Just as well really, I was bleeding profusely.
'Don't be such a big-girls blouse', chided Carol, 'it's only a superficial scalp wound'.
Superficial or not, it needed 4 stitches - without anaesthetic.
The doctor - an Asian gentleman in a turban - said 'This may be a little uncomfortable'.
I now know that is medic-speak for 'This is going to hurt like hell'.

'I didn't mean to hit YOU, you know' said Carol. 'It was intended for that foreign bitch. You got in the way - and besides, it was only a small adjustable wrench'.

I did not feel like arguing; my head ached like mad and I thought I was going to be sick.

I wasn't sick, but I declined Carol's offer of a lift home on the scooter. I said I would send her a cheque for a new helmet - ruined now with all the blood and everything.

She said it didn't matter. But it is the least I can do. I know it is over now between me and Carol. Sad really. But she will soon find another head to fill her helmet.

Why does this always happen to me? There is a pattern here. Oh yes, I can detect a pattern. But what can I do about it?

I took a taxi. 'Where to mate?' said the driver.
'I'm not your mate' I replied. (I didn't really, but I would have liked to have done).
I was about to give him my address when a thought occurred -
'Just drop me at the bridge'
'The Bridge! You sure, mate? This time of night?'
'Yes mate' I was suddenly very sure.

A big notice said: "Climbing on the bridge superstructure is a criminal offence"
I usually obey notices. In fact a psychiatrist once told me that, at some deep level, I viewed all official notices as being written by my mother.
But mother must have been having a night off.

I carefully negotiated the ring of metal spikes, and began to climb.