It’s a beautiful sun-shining, birds-singing, song-singing kinda morning. The kind of day when nothing is getting in my way. Today is going to be a good day. I send the eldest one off for his bus with a cheery wave and drop the little one off at her school with a big squeeze and a promise we can ride our bikes later. Life is grand, almost feel likes a Disney musical as I whistle and skip to the car to nip to the bank to do some stuff.
Life smells good, I’m at the bank early and because I knew I would be I do a little work sat in the car park on the iPad I’ve brought with me because I knew I would be early, and hey – every moment counts when the world is as grand and sun filled as this morning. I see the bank open, go in and smile and do my business (paying in a cheque not defecating in the RBS in some kind of protest at the state-owned business not making lending easier for struggling companies) – I bid the cashier a lovely day and trot back home.
The dog greets me with a waggy grin and I get her lead to give her a run in the park before settling down to finish editing the first draft of episode 2 of Everyone Quite Likes Justin. The park is quiet, only the usual other dog walkers and I exchange pleasantries with a smile and an acknowledgment that isn’t it a lovely day hey? I throw the ball and my gorgeous chocolate labrador pelts off to retrieve it, her coat glistening in the warm bathe of the sun. She returns with the ball in her mouth, drops it at my feet and goes to do her ‘business’ (not like mine in the bank – you know what I mean). I poop-a-scoop and we continue up the path past the park keeper who is tidying up the beds next to the toilets and and I give him a little wink – ordinarily two middle aged men exchanging a knowing wink outside a public convenience could be misconstrued, not today – today is sunshine day, first day of a glorious Spring.
It’s then everything starts to go wrong. I launch the ball from its launcher for the dog to chase over a large tree. I often do this to make the ball throwing game more interesting for her and for me.
The ball doesn’t drop. It’s lodged quite high up, but it’s not a problem. I throw the ball launcher up into the tree’s canopy to release the ball. The ball launcher gets caught in the branches. No problem, I’ve got something else. I throw the lead to dislodge the ball launcher. The lead gets stuck. The dog is circling the tree thinking this is the best game ever.
It’s then I make the biggest error of the morning. The only other projectile I have to hand is a small black bag. A small black bag tied and containing the ‘business’. I fling it skyward toward the lead, the ball and the ball launcher stuck up in the high branches. It misses all three targets. Gravity -that reliable bitch – kicks in. The small black bag, tied and containing the ‘business’ begins to hurtle toward the ground. Like a fielder in a game of cricket (or baseball US readers) I steady myself and cup my hands to catch it. I catch it. Unlike a cricket ball (or a baseball) it splits.
Whilst a crowd gathers and watches an out of breath, overweight man, wiping excrement from his hands on the grass with a labrador staring at him and a collection of detritus above him stuck in a tree, all the time shielding their children’s eyes from the horror, I think to myself, this isn’t how I thought today would be.
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