Oh death, won't you spare me over, til' another year . .
I was rummaging around in my parents house yesterday, when I came across a local newspaper article dating back to the year 2000. It was funny to read, and reminisce about that time that I came close to meeting my maker; which triggered me off thinking about all the other times that I thought I might have died. Here are those moments, catalogued in all their glory.
#1 Aniseed Ball
Seven, maybe eight years of age; bouncing up and down the hall, not caring, eating a hard boiled aniseed ball; when suddenly, one of them got lodged in my throat. For thirty seconds or so, I couldn't breath, and I was panicking; until I realized I could just swallow it. Hardly close to death; but for those thirty seconds, it felt like it was, let me tell you! I've never had an aniseed ball since.
#2 Over the hedge
Eleven years old, out playing with my mates; when we spotted this rather large, and springy looking hedge. For hours and hours, we'd run at it, top speed, and then leap into it, and get sprang back onto the pavement. Without thinking what was over the other side, we went on and on. Until..... I leaped too far, and toppled head first over; and landed on my head from a 5ft or more drop; onto concrete. I never blacked out, and ran home screaming; and after a 4 hour trip to A&E, head and neck scans- I haven't jumped aimlessly into a hedge since.
#3 Tidal Drama
I was 15 years old, and I was interested in yachts (Not much has changed in 13 years) - I was out riding on my bike along the promenade from, with a friend, from where I lived in Moreton, to Meols; which is the next town along the coast. I was going there with the sole purpose of looking at the yachts on the swing(tidal) moorings. We didn't bother to check the tides; because on initial inspection, it was miles out. We walked out with our bikes, and inspected all the yachts; I remember being dismissive of the trawlers initially. After about 20 minutes of inspecting the sandbank stricken yachts, we made our way back to land, when it became apparent that we had been rather unexpectedly cut off by a torrent of water. My friend made a dart through the water with his mountain bike, with it's large wheels that he used to support him and managed to get across; I however, hesitated, due to the wheels on my racer sinking into sand, and offering little in the way of support. Just thirty seconds had passed, and the distance that needed crossing had doubled. I was fucked. I looked to my left, water was approaching, I looked behind me, and it was the same...however, on my right hand side, there was a fishing trawler, still lying on her side. I immediately ran to the side that was closest to the ground and managed to haul myself and my bike into the boat. Not even a minute had passed, and the boat was afloat. "Ring the coast guard" I screamed at my friend. "I've got no credit" he replied. "It's fucking free you mong" I screamed back. "What's the number?" - "It's One...One...Two...you fucking spazz" - At this time there was a group of spectators watching and laughing at our little exchange of kind words. I was soon rescued by the RNLI; who informed me that the wash here, was one of the quickest in the country. I learnt to respect the sea.
#In the car with shay
My brother had not long passed his driving test, and wanted Mc Donalds from the 'drive-thru', but didn't want to drive up; so, in his infinite wisdom, decided to charge his friend; who didn't have a licence with the task of driving up there. On the way back, his friend was keen to show off his none existent driving skills; and decided to take a detour down a rather bendy country lane, alas, he lost control of car going around a sharp bend, and we smashed up a kerb, and into a ditch. I didn't have my belt on; and my head went through the passenger side window. Again, I was saved by that thick skull of mine- as I just collected my Big Mac, which was rather messy, and told my brothers mate to fuck him self; and walked 3 miles back to my house. I learnt that my brothers mate was a moron.
#Dick head in white vauxhall astra
I finished work in Chester, where I was working for a Bank's call centre. The commute home involved the M53- I was approaching point on the road where cars join; so I moved into the fast lane, to allow for it. I was doing about 70mph, when I noticed a white Vauxhall Astra come thundering onto the road; in a split second, he's crossed the slow lane, and continued into my path. Only my quick braking, and taking immediate evasive action meant that I got home in one piece that evening. Had there been a wagon on the inside lane, who knows what would have happened. I learnt that the roads are not a safe place, and you should never get complacent.
I needed a new starter motor for my A reg Ford Fiesta. I wasn't going to by a new one; so I went down to the local scrap yard to explain to the toothless simpleton working there what I wanted. I was standing near the end of a row of stacked cars, waiting for my part. For a reason that I can't explain; I felt compelled to move from where I was standing. Not long after moving away, a Volvo Estate, and an old Ford Sierra, as if in slow motion tumbled over and crashed right where I'd been standing just moments earlier. Why I felt the need to move, I'll never know- and I don't buy all that super natural Derek Acorah bull shit. I learnt not to stand close to stacked scrap cars.
#Coming down a hill at 40mph on my bicycle
I had been to Wrexham for the first time on my Bike, and was making my way back home; I say making my way back, but really, I was lost. The gears on my bike were playing up, so I let my mate have a mess about with my rear dérailleur. It seemed like he'd fixed it. I set off down a very steep hill, I didn't know just how steep and long it was at the time, but in hindsight, and now knowing the climbs of North Wales like the back of my hand, it was 'The Steps' - I was free wheeling at 35mph, so I decided to give it some pedal power, shortly after, I heard a massive clunk- my rear wheel had locked, and I was skidding into the other side of the road; I got myself on the right side of the road, when my mechanically minded friend came hauling past me, into a hedge. He hadn't fixed my bike at all. He'd adjusted the rear mechanism, wrongly- and my rear mech was sucked into my rear wheel, writing the wheel off; and leaving me with a near £200.00 bill to fix my bike. Afterwards, thinking about the 'ifs' and 'buts' - I was pretty lucky to come out of it in one piece. I learnt not to let amateurs near my bike.