My weekend didn’t get off to the best of starts. When I left work, the rain was incredibly heavy. It was a scenario where I just knew, that no matter what I did, I was going to get very wet. God had his Super Soaker water gun out, and was determined to get me drenched. Was this penance for cursing to myself, after dealing with a rude and frustrating caller?

Donald Trump would no doubt tell me that I have angered the spirit in the sky, by placing a rainbow arc, in support of LGBT, on my Twitter handle.

Either way, if I was getting wet, everyone else was too, which makes me think the rain was simply a result of the hydrologic cycle and not a vengeful higher being.

A nasty event which did happen solely to me, was to occur when I arrived home. My lovely wife had spotted me, riding my scooter up the path to out house. By this point I was predictably soaked. A drowned rat, as some might say.

As I approached the front door, disaster struck. Driving up the ramp, towards the house, my scooter veered uncontrollably to the right. Part of the scooter was hanging off one end of the ramp. Had I been riding at speed, I would have gone straight off the edge, resulting in damage to the scooter and worse still, another stay in hospital for me.

Despite being shaken by the ordeal, I reversed back off the ramp and back onto solid ground. Maybe I hadn’t been concentrating and had driven up the incline at an angle. I rode my scooter back up towards the house. Yet again, I somehow ended up almost riding straight off the edge.

By this point, I had forgotten all about the rain, despite it continuing to pour from the sky. I was just a few feet away from the sanctuary of home, but being unable to climb the ramp, I may as well have been in Dover. So near, yet so far.

After much panicking, I calmed down enough to climb the ramp, with Claire at my side, supporting the scooter to prevent me from losing control again.

Slowly, we made our way towards the house. Garden snails, out in numbers due to the sodden conditions, looked on, no doubt bemused at my speed and how I could be overtaken in my ascension to the front door.

I made it home, safe and well, if not a little shaken and dripping with rain water. I went upstairs, changed into pyjamas, before returning downstairs, to sit on the sofa and feel sorry for myself.

Home sweet home

I stayed there pretty much for the rest of the evening. So, if you ever wondered how your favourite blogger spends his Friday nights, now you know. Ozzy Osbourne is green with envy at how rock and roll I am!

THE END