Mister Fixit rang me last night to tell me that he was okay but that he'd had a bit of a bingle on his way home from TAFE. He had rear-ended a car, and the motorbike had flipped under him causing him to go flying over the handlebars. He would have been completely fine (he tucked and rolled) except that as he sailed over the top of his bike he clipped one of the bike's mirrors so hard that it snapped off. That's gotta hurt you're probably thinking and yes I think it did hurt, particularly because the part of him that whacked that mirror so-hard-that-it-fell-off was his balls.
Now. You know how men are babies when they whack themselves in the knackers? Well, Fixit's adrenaline was running so high that despite the massive blow to his privates, he got straight up, assured all the other cars that he was fine, picked up his bike and got it off the road, picked up all the snapped-off bits of bike lying on the road, exchanged driver details with the car he'd hit and rang me to organise collection whilst only really registering that he had a bit of a stomach-ache.
Anyway. A couple of hours later, when he'd arrived home after all the palaver of getting the bike to a mechanic, we had a look and the damage was fairly awesome. Swelling and bruising doesn't quite convey the full picture so to help you with your mental image, let me say: Black (Inky black. All over. All. Over) and: Tennis ball. (Maybe even a bit bigger than a tennis ball, almost softball size.) You're welcome. Obviously we're not showing them anywhere but we just had to take photographs - his idea not mine - because despite the fact that he is now very sore and for the next fortnight I will be in no danger of being pestered for marital relations and he will be walking like a cowboy, the whole area is freakily impressive, in a very bad way. And the good news is there's no haemorrhaging or other problems, and as lots of people said to me, we had finished making children anyway.
So that, my friends, is the story of Ironballs Fixit. And he's not allowed to do it again.
slow stitching reflections
9 hours ago