I came back from yoga as sweaty and in need of a shower. Ashtanga is a bit of a work-out. I turned on the shower, borrowed supermum’s latest seriously-expensive shampoo (the hairdressers see her coming from miles away but, well, she’s worth it) and hopped into the bath tub.
Then I slipped.
The foot in the bath went sideways and I overbalanced, smacking the side of my other knee against the enamelled ceramic. It was hard. I shouted. There may have been swearing. I regained my balance, hopping and yelling
“Ow! Fuck! Ow!”
Supermum appeared at the bathroom door and asked if I was alright.
“I slipped. I bashed my knee on the bath. It hurts.”
Supermum attempted to keep a straight face, failed and began to laugh.
“I said it hurts.”
More laughter. Or rather, sniggering.
“Oh, go away.”
“Are you really okay? I mean…”
She broke down again into giggles at the spectacle of her husband, standing on one foot, stark naked, rubbing his knee and swearing.
“Well, it was a fright. I was frightened. I mean, I felt…old. This is what is old people do – slip in the bath.”
We’re both quiet for a moment. Then she starts to giggle again.