WordPress Daily Prompt: The Kindness of Strangers

When was the last time a stranger did something particularly kind, generous, or selfless for you? Tell us what happened!

What do these models of past Russian Presidents have to do with the theme of today’s prompt? It is due to the kindness of strangers that you remain on this blog, reading further, and not deciding to leave, thinking who is this crazy Angloswiss with models of Russian Presidents. We only know each other through blogs, through pingbacks (those that are not allergic to pingbacks) and meeting on the daily path of prompt, when it works.

First of all a little history to these little models of past Russian presidents: it was many moons ago when I decided to learn Russian. I was then at the interesting age - around fifty years old, when you know everything but no-one believes you. I was again one of the oldest in the language course. Some of the younger members were agile enough to risk a few months in Moscow learning the language where it was spoken and the acts of kindness were that they brought you a present. There is a souvenir in Russia known as “Babushka Dolls” (Babushka = grandmother) with lots of little old ladies put inside each other, but as I was probably on the wrong side of 50 for such a gift, my friend brought me “President dolls”, which still possess a place of honour on my bookshelf. They can be screwed open in the middle and placed inside each other, Lenin being the smallest and Gorbatchov at that time the largest. I almost lived with them all, except for the two on the right, Lenin and Stalin. Lenin was the daddy of it all, the no. 1 communist leader (although he borrowed the idea from a guy known as Karl Marx) and Stalin died when I was ten years old, so I really only have a vague memory of his funeral on the TV.

I suppose there might be a more modern version today, showing Mr. Vladimir Putin as the daddy of them all, so if he is not stabbed, shot or poisoned, he will still be the No. 1 of the President dolls.

So now I have been able to show the photo of my little souvenir brought from Russia as a gift of kindness, and you may now relax, having got it all behind you.

Unfortunately during my life of toil, blog and unexpected happenings I cannot remember one physical case of a stranger being particularly kind, generous or selfless. Do I have a “Beware of the Dog” sign hovering over my head? Are there two long corner teeth resembling fangs and dripping blood? Perhaps it is the general unfriendly aura that surrounds me when I walk through the streets pushing people out of my way.

I remember once, a few years ago, on a working day when I paid a visit to my physiotherapy bloke. I believe I was recovering from my broken arm and he was manipulating it back to the normal arm world. On my way to the station after the visit I had to cross the road and there was an open manhole cover: before you grip the sides of your office chair and clutch the keyboard in fright, no I did not fall down the manhole. I am very careful with manhole covers. Unfortunately I was so careful that I did not notice the two cables leading into the manhole and yes, I tripped over them. No problem, I suppose I did resemble a nun giving her vows as she lays prostrate on the church floor, but this was the pavement, and I was not praying, just cursing under my breath and checking what was broken.

Luckily nothing was broken and yes, no-one bothered to help. It resembled one of those film scenes, where the victim is beaten and left lying on the ground, and the crowds ignore him and walk past. I believe it was a Lino Ventura film where it happened, but so long ago that the grey cells of the brain that are never renewed when they die, took the memory with them. Anyhow to continue, there I was the star of a gangster movie and ignored.

I pulled myself together and discovered that my two legs were still functioning so I stood. My jacket had a black stain from the ground and I believe there were a few other marks on my face and body. Where did I fall? Just a few steps from the entrance to my doctor. This was perfect, so I dragged myself into the practice and arrived at the desk. The nurse threw a glance in my direction, and immediately called the doctor. No words were really exchanged. Within a few minutes I was lying horizontally on the bed and being examined. I was cleaned up, the cuts and bruises doctored and released with the warning to take the day off and not return to work, which I did not intend. I walked limped to the railway station, which was luckily just around the corner, and arrived home. I called the office to say I had an accident and would remain at home for the day. Through my history of accidents that just happen most of the time, my boss told me to take it easy and only to return to the office when I feel OK. I have a certain reputation for falling down in the wrong places.

So there we are. Sorry no stories of Swiss heroism, William Tell similar occasions and if he had to shoot the apple off my head he would probably have shot through the head and not the apple, the story of my life. So thank you blogger colleagues for your visits to admire my gifted writings, and I will see you all on the flip side on the grid, if it is working. That would be another story, but as I have not yet received an apology, explanation or acknowledgement of my complaint from WordPress, I will be patient. I realise they have such a stress, especially after the great new look.

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WordPress Daily Prompt: Safety First

Share the story of a time you felt unsafe. 

Photographers, artists, poets: show us SAFETY.

At least we have a modern hospital in our local town of Solothurn. I know the building well inside and out, and have spent many happy days of recovery there after my various accidents.

It would be quicker to write about a time I felt safe. I never seem to be safe. From the moment they let me out there is a risk involved. I seem to have a thing about falling down. Not that I cannot walk, in my younger days I even ran for the bus. It seems that as you progress in age, things do not work as well as they should.

My most unfortunate accident was when I was in England visiting my father for a few days. I spent three of the seven days in hospital after breaking my arm on Tower Bridge in London. I mean if you fall down, then fall down in a place that remains in your memory, something spectacular. They managed to piece my arm together in time for me to catch my return flight to London.

The second time I broke my arm (same arm, but this time the top half) was when I fell over the cat. I was lucky as a cupboard door broke the fall onto the concrete, otherwise it could have been worse. This time it was a week in hospital and now I am left with a very interesting scar.

Then I remember a time when I was in town, walking towards the station. I tripped over some rubber piping lying on the ground. It was part of the work utensils the men were using to repair some sort of manhole cover. The manhole was open, but no, I did not fall into an endless depth, I must have resembled a nun giving her vows as I lay on the street. I was again lucky, as this accident happened within sight of my doctor’s surgery. I dragged my bruised body to his practice and was taken into care. My jacket was looking rather grubby and I had a few bruises. I could still walk and eventually returned home with doctor’s orders to take it easy for the next couple of days.

I had a spectacular accident when I was at work. I fetched a cup of coffee from the machine and had to climb two steps to return to the office. Carrying a cup of coffee and walking up steps is not always easy, especially if you have balance problems and you happen to be me. Yes I fell, but the unfortunate thing was the cup broke and my face landed on the broken edge of the cup. It was a vampire’s delight, although it always seems to be worse when blood is involved. I had an interesting cut on my face. I was a lookalike Al Capone. My office colleague packed me into her car and we drove off to the doctor (the same one as in the last paragraph) where I was stuck together again. I had an interesting plaster on my nose for a while, it did not warrant stitches.

Then I remember when we were moving from our apartment into our house and I was preparing a few items to be packed. One of them was my electric food mixer with the special laser cutting edges: need I say more? We were off to the doctor (the emergency doctor as it was evening) as my thumb seemed to have a rather bloody seam in the middle. Again stitches were not necessary, it was stuck together very professionally by a plaster and I was off work for a few days as there was a danger that the seam might tear again. For a while I had an interesting scar but it seems to have disappeared over time.

I remember once falling when entering the supermarket. Somehow my foot was caught in the rubber mat that had been laid down as it was a day of heavy rain. It was to protect the floor from becoming grubby with muddy foot marks. No big damage, I just had to sit a while to recover. Luckily Mr. Swiss was with me to help me return to the horizontal position. Since this memorable accident, a permanent safe carpet has replaced the temporary rubber bits. The supermarket people might have been worried about being sued for negligence, although that was furthest from my mind.

I think that just about covers it all. There were probably a few minor falls that left no scars on my memory or body. I wonder why Mr. Swiss always says “be careful” as the last words when I am let out on my own. Other people just say goodbye. The funny thing is I always feel safe, it is just the others that feel unsafe. They seem to be under the impression that I might have an accident.

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Creative Challenge #217 - We All fall down

Translation: Notfall=Emergency, Eingang=Entrance - our local hospital

I invented falling down
It can be so easy
Just take a step in the wrong direction
And then I get so queasy

On Tower Bridge in London
There is a plaque I fear
The English lady put her foot down
And broke her arm just here

In my garden there is a famous stone
marked Attention! You could fall
Yes, it was my arm again
And you know I am so tall

When I enter the hospital they stare
And say she is here once more
The surgeon rubs his hands in glee
What fun, we will not become poor

My bed is ready in the ward
They know the food I like
Luckily I only walk
And do not ride a bike

So that is the story of my life
I can really go to town
The accidents and broken limbs
Just because we all fall down.

And the Day started so well

It was just a normal morning really. I got ready to take my son to work by car, but afterwards had to go to the chiropractice. It was raining, and a bit of a nip in the air, but the air was fresh. On the way to the chiro I pass the entrance to a park belong to an appartement area. Very picturesque, so I took a photo. I had to park my car about 5 minutes away from the surgery as the roads are being renewed and our new bridge was getting the final touches.

After the "treatment" I walked back to my car, not without noticing that the whole town seems to start resembling a building site.

Machines everywhere - if they were not yet in place they were being put into place. To cross the main road was doing a tightrope job, although they had officials directing the traffic.

Eventually I managed to cross the road noticing that the pavement was one mess of plastic tubes, drains with their lids removed and other such objects. Eventually I managed to get past the objects and then it happened. No excuse, no reason, probably not being very agile any more - I fell over. All 1 meter 75 and 84 kilos heavy fell down. There was naturally no knight in shining armour standing nearby, and if anyone was standing nearby they certainly did not notice that there was a damsel in distress laying full out flat on the pavement.

After I realised that I was still alive I decided to try and get in the upright position. It seems that the left side of my face helped to break the fall, as well as my two knee caps. As this accident happed about 10 steps away from my General Practitioner's practice I decided to call on him on an emergency visit. I met two ladies in the lift who asked me if I had had an accident (by then my left eye was no longer blue, but a shade of brown) and I eventually got to the doc's waiting room. The assistant told me I could see the doc in about 30 minutes so I sat down in the waiting room. A gentleman patient asked me if I had been attacked or what had happened - probably more out of curiosity than anything else. Eventually I got to the doc and he prodded to see if anything was broken. Finding me in one piece, but remarking that my knee cap would probably be painful for the next few days and I would develop quite a bruise on one side of my face, he told me to stay at home in the morning and if I felt up to it, I could go to work in the afternoon.

I phoned up hubby to warn him that a lookalike of Cassius Clay was coming home and stayed at home in the morning. Thank goodness for Swiss accident insurance. They will compensate my loss of time at work in the morning, and also pay an amount towards the new glasses I will have to get as the ones I was wearing at the time of the accident are no longer usable. Thank goodness for the second pair I had in the car.

When I arrived at work in the afternoon I was quite a centre of attention, especially as it often happens that I do fall down when I should not. I think there was more curiosity to see what I looked like. A most memorable occasion was when I broke my arm on Tower Bridge in London whilst I was staying a week with my dad on holiday. Needless to say 3 days of the holiday were spent in the local hospital. I just hope that I do not have any adventures on my way to work tomorrow.