I wake and realise I am not at The Big Chill nor at home but in a large hotel room in a town in Herefordshire. I’m in Ledbury. The nightmare of the previous day floods back
in a tidal wave of effluent. I take a shower and get my bags together.
The floor is polished wood with two giant rugs upon it. As I cross the room to pick up something on top of the set of draws I step on the flooring and, in exactly the same way as last night at the front door, my feet slip upwards in front of me. Before I realise I have slipped I receive an enormous thwack on the back of my head.
The fall is dramatic and the bang on the back of my head feels severe as my entire body
collapses onto the floor. I lie in shock realising that something very bad has happened. I ask myself questions Where am I? You’re at the hotel. What happened? You just slipped on that polished floor I think. Should I get up? No you shouldn’t lay there. Am I bleeding? Feel your head. No you are not bleeding. Shall I get up? No, not yet.
I lay on the floor for five more minutes feeling blood swell around the point of impact.
Shit that hurt. Finally I stand. Too many things have happened this past day. And I have a large journey of driving ahead. Eventually I leave the room and walk downstairs. It’s 7.30am and a good breakfast will do me right.
Did you fall says the night watchman. yes I reply. I came up to see if you were alright he says. I ask about breakfast Breakfast is at 8.30am on a weekend he says apologetically. It would be wouldn’t it, I think. I guess I am feeling sorry for myself. I know, pathetic isn’t it. I get a couple of pieces of fruit and leave. Yesterday it took me six hours to get here from London and today, just to rub my face in it, the journey takes me exactly two and an half hours to return.
The Journalist is at The Big Chill and I have dropped the car off and I am staying home all weekend. I have lost over one thousand pounds. I have missed my event. I have a crushing headache and I’m bruised on my head and my thigh. I hope I see noone all weekend! Something is trying to tell me something and I can’t work it out.
Here is a riddle for you reader. What is invisible to you about this story that is most visible to me because of this story? What does this story outline to me that it would not outliine to you? What do I see in this story that you have learned not to see in this story? What is so close to you that you can’t see it that is so far away from me that it is clear what it is?