I was cycling through the quiet morning streets of Barcelona’s old town yesterday, on a bicycle that’s part of the successful public transport system of this funky, sexy, dirty, hot slice of Spain. Rickety, well-used and nothing like my own at home, the bicycle made me feel distinctly unsteady. I felt like a novice and started wondering what would happen if I crashed. Then the thought came to me, that I might fall, and if I did I’d be OK because I’ve learned how to fall throughout my life. Flat on my face, head over heels, hopelessly, helplessly, heavily, I know how to fall.
I’ve fallen hundreds of times from bikes, from skis, trees, horses and a donkey, I’ve fallen for girls, promises, charm and gold. I know how to fall so I’ll be OK, and I was and I didn’t. Funny that….