Celestial drama

The lintel across the kitchen doorway comes up to my collarbone so I need to duck as I go through. A grinning toy duckling suspended by its neck from the lintel by a piece of cotton attached to a drawing pin is there to remind me. Usually I stoop just low enough to feel his little feet dance across my hair as I pass. But on this occasion I was looking down at my phone, and, presuming that my head was low enough, going full steam ahead into the kitchen. The next thing I knew, I was lying flat on my back on the living-room rug and the top of my head felt wet.

I went upstairs and stuck my head under the bath’s cold tap and kept it there until red turned to clear. Then I blotted the red from the rug and stair carpet with a damp face flannel and towel-dried my hair.