I fell a lot in my time.
Once, when I was nineteen, I fell off a bike and shattered my wrist so badly that it’s still deformed to this day, and will never be fully right. Another time, I fell and gashed the side of my head open, but that was due to drink or smoking Leb red, so I deserved it.
I fell for many scams, and I fell ill, but not very much, I’m glad to say.
I fell from grace more than once, and I fell in love a few times as well, though not many.
I fell out a window acting the fool and damaged my back when I was only sixteen, but I’m glad to say it’s been a while since I was last paralysed with pain as a result.
I often fell playing football, but that’s because I was always a shite footballer. I also fell behind in cross-country races and drinking competitions.
I fell foul of my teachers and my employers, not to mention family members and assorted associates. I fell among thieves. I fell away from religion. I fell out with friends.
I fell around laughing. I fell in with a bad crowd. I fell into many traps.
I fell under a motorbike when I was very young and sustained a fractured skull, which many would say accounts for my behaviour and attitude.
I fell under the influence of people, some of whom did me good and remain firm soulmates. I fell asleep at the wheel.
I fell short of my ideals. I fell silent. I fell well below the standards expected of me. I fell back exhausted. I fell into error.
We were talking about falling the other night, Joe and myself, as we sucked a couple of pints before the Dylan gig. What our children will say as we get older.
If I fall now, today, and maybe hurt myself grievously, sustaining a burst eyeball or a lacerated scrotum, my beloved daughter might give Bullet a call.
Yeah? All right?
He’ll be ok.
That’s now, but what about in ten years’ time? Will they be saying Dad fell? No. They’ll be saying Dad had a fall. And they’ll nod ominously.
Frowns all round. He had a fall, you say?
Yeah. He had a fall.
And even that won’t be too bad until you fast forward the years.
Yes. Hello. How are you?
Our father had another fall.
Damn. I’m a bit busy now.
Just letting you know.
Thank you. That certainly is worrying.
It certainly fucking is.
Imagine what will happen ten years later.
Dad had –
Another one of his falls?
OK. I’ll call the nursing home. It’s about time we put our foot down.
I’m telling you, we’re all fucked. Nursing home? I’m not falling for that one.