the summer of 1976 was the hottest and driest in the UK since records began, with the months of June, July and August with little more bright sunshine, 35 degrees temperatures and clear blue sky. Of course, there was the obligatory water shortage at the same time just to make sure that the English could continue to complain about the weather, but that was still the summer by which all others are measured UK, and I'm sure most people who were cognitive age then remember it as vividly as I do.
I got the chance to be an adolescent schoolboy at the time, which meant that I was on vacation for most of this fabulous summer English schools being closed for seven weeks from early July to early September. Better yet, my mother and my father both had full-time jobs, so I was a free agent for about 14 hours a day on weekdays because they left the house at 8am and they expect me home to 22:00. On weekends, I'm usually on my own 24 hours a day, as they were very enthusiastic people on average of the party and their weekend started on Friday night with Johnnie Walker and ended on Monday morning with Alka -Seltzer.
My great passion at that time was the realization of classic plastic model airplanes German Second World War. I spend many lazy hours gluing all the pieces together and paint them as directed, then when they were finished and perfect, I slide down a fishing line in the garden and use them as moving targets for my rifle air while I was pretending to be an anti-aircraft gunner. Some of the windows of neighboring became collateral damage, but as I said, people were working.
One morning my mother called me and asked me to buy some items we needed for the house. I shot my last Heinkel bomber yesterday and my favorite model workshop in the same area as the supermarket, so I was happy to oblige. I took the list and the money she had left in the kitchen and walked to the bus stop at the end of the road. Thirty minutes later I'm in the supermarket filling my cart with the items needed as fast as I could, wanting to get to the model shop to select my next aerial target. An hour later, I'm on my way home on the bus, stuck in traffic in the sweltering heat. Even with all the windows open, the temperature was unbearable (nobody in England knew that air conditioning was at the time), so I reached into the bag, took out a large bottle and still fresh enough Coke and began to guzzle.
Several hearty burps later, the bottle was empty, the traffic had cleared and we were almost my bus stop. I am very happy and anxious because Coke had run straight through me and I was in real danger of disgrace me in public. I knew there was a public toilet on the opposite side of the road as soon as the doors opened, I jumped out and ran around the front of the bus like an idiot. The desire to avoid public ridicule had substituted my common sense and basic training in road safety. The last thing I heard was the bus driver shouting "Stop!" But it was too late. I looked to my right just in time to see the car that was caught on the bus to hit me.
Everything went in the Hollywood style, the hazy slow motion.
The front of the car plunged dramatically as the driver hit the brakes. I could straighten his arms and his eyes bulging as he anticipated impact.
Instinctively, I turned my back to the car and I felt the front bumper connect with the back of my shins. I saw blue sky, and then the car below and blue sky, and then the car below, then blue sky and black.
I opened my eyes to see a crowd gathered close around me as I lay on the road behind the car. Someone has said, "Call an ambulance!" I said, "No, I'm fine ..." and I pulled my feet in a daze. "Are you sure?" Asked someone. "I'm sure," I said. "I just really need to p * ss" and pushed my way through the crowd toward public toilets. "He must be crazy!" An old woman said.
date, I can not understand how I managed to avoid serious injury and keep the contents of my bladder intact throughout my flight. When I got home, I noticed my elbow hurt me, so I rolled up my sleeve to see what was wrong. I had obviously landed on her because she had swollen dramatically and looked like a ball of black and blue tennis. There was a soup of milk, eggs, biscuits, cream, sugar and Dornier Do 317 bombers in my bag. I told my mother I abandoned. Happy days.