barry gibb

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apropos of nothing… smelling salts of randomness.. t’other day i was up on the downs at telscombe with sherbailey, was regaling her with the tale of how my arm got smithereened in a bike crash there when she was a baby!
see regurgitated very ancient email below… since then that elbow has been weirdly aching
so i’ve just spent the last half hour ‘curing’ it by making a collage of me in the arms of barry gibb, all tickety boo now!

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Always wear a bike helmet!
having shattered my elbow, I’m more than relieved not to have fractured my skull,
after the crash, the hapless helmet had a huge chunk of plastic gouged off the side and was split, nay sundered in two
ok so bike helmets make you look a little gormless,
but through the power of self regarding I have always felt myself to resemble a chivalrous Knight,
even more so when one one windy day, astride bike, I retrieved our dustbin lid from down the road.
A beautiful sunny day when I set off on my adventure, the dilligent trundle up Whitehawk hill,
then away across the freedom of the downs,
huge gulps of fresh air, the yawn of view away to Lewes,
Kingston higgledy piggledy sheltered beneath the escarpment.
all was green and vibrant,
‘cepting the fields of rape, a million plants all shouting with one voice
(‘what did they shout?’ why the yell of YELLOW!)
hurtling down the downs, plodding up the ups.
mucho barbed wire fences though, a smidgin steve mcqueen in the great escape
Beckonned by bells, it was back on the road into Rodmell, the old stone church next to Virginnia Woolfs house
parked on a bench, beneath the fuschia blossoms of a cherry tree,
The genteel, the well heeled, the dowdy and the middle aged wandered to church,
cows and gravestones, pastoral vibes
up I jumped, on down the long hill to Telscoombe village,
my head cheerfully singing ‘we’ve got a great big convoy, trucking on through the night’
back on a stoney track, then over the brow of the final hill,
I started to accelerate, my hand got bounced away from the brake,
by the time I got it back in position, I thought if I brake now I’ll fall off, so I thought I’ll try and ride it out,
big mistake, the bike went faster and faster, a pell mell hurtle (when did life become a video game?)
huge stone!!!!
when I came round a sweet old couple were bending over me ‘you alright’, I thought they were my parents!
next a four wheeled drive came swaggering down the hill from the turreted mansion on the hill.
it pulled up, out hopped a rock star type, old, tight leather troosers, a stripey top, long hair, hat and sunglasses
I was too dazed to know who the mystery millionaire was?
but with no great fuss he slung me and my bike into the car and drove me home.
when I got home I just started crying, shock!!! a thoroughly miserable experience
still my fantasists mind will always summon the image of being
wounded and swooned, being carried down the mountainside in the arms of Barry Gibb!

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