Whistle Stop

This morning got off to a slightly bad start when I stepped off a quiet backstreet pavement without looking, straight into the path of a bearded cyclist who was travelling just slightly below the speed of sound. Unaware that my hearing faculties were in a Tupperware box in my handbag because it was a wet morning, he whistled to alert me to both of our impending dooms. As luck would have it, he chose a whistle frequency to match the supremely functional 4-8KHz area of my wayward cochleas, and disaster was narrowly averted with a loud screeching of brakes and an audible snap from my kneecap as I froze in my tracks.

“Oh god, sorry, that was all my fault…”, I spluttered, not for the first time this week, but the bearded cyclist was already two hundred yards away, oblivious to his lucky escape.

Just as well he whistled rather than shouted, I thought to myself, feeling rather stupid.


2 Responses to “Whistle Stop”

  1. 1 kentigern October 27, 2010 at 5:43 pm

    Moi, I heard you were looking for Jean and Mary’s address, dont have it and today wasn’t appropriate.

    The mother i think has it, and if you’re struggling I can give you Davids e-mail.


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