When I was a teenager I was on telly every Saturday for a couple of years.
I will leave it at that so I come across more famous than I am.
Appearance is very important to me.
You’ll see.
During my GCSCs I was in and out of fancy/obsession/annoyance with about 3 boys.
I deemed it best not to show any of them, as them finding out that I liked them would be worse than if we ended up going out. Of course.
I have always made very wise choices.
One of the boys was a very handsome football player, amongst other clever things (the last sentence is not irony. The setting for this story is Norway)
Everybody knew HIM.
Everybody who didn’t know HIM, wanted to.
I knew HIM quite well.
I told you appearance was important for me.
One day HE was playing a football match at my local sports ground with our local team, Follo.
The football pitch at my local sports ground is framed by a running track.
The running track is framed by a long, continuous, delicious railing.
I was watching the match, kind of, with my girlfriends, just hanging out as you do on a running track in carefully chosen jeans, cool tops and make up, totally blending in on the running track and shit.
Anyway, we were nonchalantly, like totally just happening to hang out on the running track where the exit from the pitch and to the footballer’s changing rooms were.
When the match was over and the boys, including HIM, were coming off the pitch, I guess to create some sort of attention, one of the girls started a friendly, but unusually loud, tease about me being on TV.
In Norway, it is not a cool thing to stick out.
Sticking out is not a thing you should do.
Maybe you shouldn’t stick out anywhere.
Whatever.
Kind of embarrassed, and kind of proud as I didn’t really care what people thought if I thought they were wrong….I still wanted to get out of the situation.
Or perhaps move about so I had a reason to end up in front of HIM, forced to say hello maybe.
So I did a little “oh no, they are teasing me I have to cause more attention by running away from it” move, and ran towards the railing. Then tried to vault it.
It is just that I kind of didn’t really make it. AT all.
In fact one leg didn’t even get the knee up to the top of the railing, and what happens next is still to this day, a conundrum to me.
Some part of my jeans and the jumper on my right arm somehow gets caught on the railing so I do very strange move where most of my body goes forward in full speed, while the parts that are caught on the railing force that part of my body to an abrupt stop, flinging the rest of my body over the railing in a semi vault-forward-roll-slide-mess, quite fast, and at the same time in slow motion, somehow.
First part of my body to touch the ground is the back of my head with such a thud I blacked out for a short second, right arm still stuck somewhere on the railing, the rest of me sprawled out on the ground below it, my left arm making a big wave before it becomes the last limb to come crashing to the floor, smashing my Swatch watch as it meets the concrete.
All in prefect timing for HIM to walk passed the cadaver, the rest of the football team in tow.
“Hi Åse” he says and smiles.
I smiled back.
You should always smile.
I could have meant this spectacle, you really never know, particularly if you smile.
Appearance is important.
Then I lay very still until HE was out of sight as I could feel the gaping L shaped hole that had been torn at the back of my jeans, leaving my entire teenage right bum cheek exposed.
I was also quite dizzy and needed a minute to come to as well as needing help to get untangled from the fence and back up on my feet so I couldn’t have got up, even if I wanted to.
I then had to borrow a jumper to tie round my waste and cover up my right butt cheek, as I was only wearing a t-shirt and didn’t fancy displaying my bum on my walk of shame home.
 
One of many Block Buster movie moments of my life.
 
HE subsequently became a very prominent footballer in Norway, captain of the Norwegian National team, and other teams, and married one of my dearest, bestest friends who, to this day, knows more about me than myself.
 
I, subsequently, can vault this delicious f****r of a railing pretty much any which way I want.
At any given time.
In any kind of weather.
In any situation.
 
Freedom.
 

 

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