Typical Jenny Stupidity

Right. Some background. There is a pond down by the halls in which I live, and it looks lovely, and there are ducklings, but it smells odd, and we’ve been hearing rumours all year that people who fall in the pond are whisked off immediately for any number of jabs and inspections and medical hoohah. Today is beautifully sunny and warm, and what looks like the entire student village is sprawled about on any bit of grass they can shotgun, wearing rather less than normal and getting burned, feeding the ducklings, revising, chatting, playing guitars and some have even dragged their kitchen tables outside to sit around and work sensibly. It’s all rather charming, though as the sun begins to go down people are now drifting inside.

I have just got out of the shower.

Surely you’ve guessed what has just happened by now? Yes, that’s right. Someone’s rugby ball ended up in the pond, and the two lads who were playing with it were rather wussily poking at it with twigs and throwing things into the pond to try and drift it shorewards; contemplating hoopla-ing it with the life ring, and otherwise Being Ridiculous.

So, of course, I womanfully rolled up my jeans to the knee, marched down to the pond, and waded in. What I didn’t know is that just after the cobbled slip into the pond hits the water, it suddenly drops away to silty, oily nothingness. Had I not been surprised by this change in terrain I wouldn’t have fallen over, but fall I did, right in to the pond, on one side, up to my neck. Thankfully my head didn’t get submerged otherwise perhaps right now I’d be hanging about in some surgery waiting to have needles jabbed into every inch of skin, tablets washed down with horrible hospital ‘fruit’ squash, and so on. Anyway, I rescued the rugby ball and have just spent the last age in the shower, I’ve put the clothes I was wearing into a very hot wash, and have contemplated the use of bleach to clean my body before I dry myself off, but it’s probably a bad plan, so I won’t, I’ll just hope for the best. The receptionist at the entrance to our student village has told me I should be fine, but that I should keep a serious eye on the cut I recieved on my foot and keep it as clean as I possibly can.

Anyway, it’s a story very typical of me. No patience with idiots, a gung-ho idiot bravery, and pondweed, dead leaves, and black, oily scum all over the floor of my soon-to-be-vigourously-mopped shower! Thankfully I find the whole thing hilarious, as do my loving flatmates… .

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6 Comments

Filed under Happenings

6 responses to “Typical Jenny Stupidity

  1. Flix

    Oh, the student life.

    And where’s the fun in it if you can’t fall in a few ponds every now and again? Or slip down the bank of a lake. At least you didn’t have a Β£200 camera in your hands…

    :S

  2. standingonthebrink

    Oh dear…. what’s your story? And yes – I enjoy falling in ponds, especially deliberately, though this time wasn’t deliberate…!

  3. Oh *Jennifer*. You’re going to get yourself something nasty. Fail!

    Offer still stands to come for coffee and [potentially beaded] knitting (as put forward on my blog earlier, I’m just impatient!) post-exams? When do yours finish? If you’re that desperate I could chuck you in Mildert’s pond? Just so you can complete the set, y’know…
    xxx

  4. standingonthebrink

    hehe sounds like a plan… on the coffee and knitting front, if not necessarily the Mildert’s Pond front…! My last exam is on the 11th of June and the wedding is not long after, and then I am free and all yours (and of course you are very much cordially invited to the wedding if you can make it πŸ™‚ ) – what about you? xxx

  5. Done on Wednesday πŸ™‚ (after six in ten days, quite enough for the time being!) then going home/to see Marcus for a week or so, then I’ve got two shows in two weeks and it all gets ridiculously hectic. Are you anywhere near telephoneable in the next few days? xx

  6. standingonthebrink

    yes, absolutely – I’m revising and, oh, wait, revising. And tidying my room. But yes, always around and very happy to chat, assuming I don’t mislay my phone again somewhere in this hellhole that my room has become…

    xxx

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