Running with Scissors – Taking Risks.
I wonder if the well-known fictional character Edward Scissorhands ever ran recklessly. Would we have run with him? Encouraged him to run? In real life we do not want to take risks. How many risks do we really take in life? And how many choices do we have that involve risks? We could argue that each time we drive a car we take risks. But self-preservation rules out really taking risks. We do not want to take risks. But when we do take a risk we will remember it. In my life I have only on two occasions taken risks that were death deaf defying. I will remember both clearly until I die. The first risk was taken when I was 18 and is almost a ritual of Australian youth. Of course it involved a motor car. My father even though he was a conservative person for some reason fancied a more than usually powerful car. On new year’s day 1964 my father allowed me to drive by myself his car to the Myrtleford Rodeo. Along the way I picked up some mates. We met up with other people we knew at the rodeo. We all decided to go to a dance in Wangaratta that night. We drove in convoy from Myrtleford to Wangaratta. Of course during the course of this trip we decided by osmosis to have a race. Three cars raced each other. Because I had the most powerful car I felt obliged to outrace the other two. I passed the other two only to be passed in turn by them. I had to pass them both again. This took me some time and I had to achieve a high speed to do so. When I finally passed both cars for the second time my natural sense of self preservation took hold and I came to my senses. I knew I was indulging in highly dangerous activity. I decided I was going to stop being part of this particular group and I immediately did. I knew I was indulging in mob mentality and that it was both dangerous and stupid. I have never done this again. I have always since been a careful driver. But because of the activity on this night I gained somewhat of a reputation and was once or twice dared to do it again. When I refused I was sneered at in the usual Australian way. You know - what are you? - a woman? Are you weak or something? I have remained ultra-careful ever since when driving. Neither have I ever indulged in mob mentality again. The only other time I have taken a risk knowing it was life threatening was when I was living in Earls Court in London. A work collegue invited me to a music and drinks get together at his flat. He lived in Finchley. I got talking to his flatmate whose name was Steve . I still know him. The dialogue went like this:- Flatmate: Where do you live? Me: Earls Court. Flatmate: What address? Me: 75 Eardley Crescent. Flatmate: Really! You are kidding. What floor? Me:The third. Why? Flatmate: I know that flat. My brother used to live in that flat. Me: What a coincidence. Where is your brother now? I have never heard you mention him. Flatmate: I don’t mention him probably because he is dead. (Steve was a bit of a wit) Me: Really. What happened? Flatmate: He was killed trying to get in through the window of your flat when he was drunk. He didn’t have his key and was trying to open the lounge window. You know the one that looks out onto the Exhibition Building. Me:(Very interested). Wow what happened? Flatmate:He came home drunk one night. Didn’t have his key and proceed to climb up the drainpipe to get to the top of the building next door. You know the gap between to window and the next building? Me: Yes Flatmate: Yes well he slipped and fell. Apparently there was frost on the window sill. He was killed immediately. Not a lot more could have been said. The musical party proceeded. We went on with our lives. But of course the inevitable happened. On Easter Thursday 1970 I came home after a nice night out with colleagues from work and to my horror discovered I had no key. It being Easter everyone else in the flat was away elsewhere for all of the long break. I was locked out. I was in big trouble. What could I do? But I knew that it was possible to get in through the lounge window. It was possible. Dangerous but possible. I think it helped that I was slightly drunk. Alchohol did help but in those days I felt invulnerable anyway. I was living in London after all. Of course I was very cool about it all. I would check it out first. I would take it in steps. I would go slowly to lessen the danger. I would look first before I did anything. I would take into account the fact I was slightly intoxicated. I would practice everything mentally in advance. It was surprisingly easy to go up the drain pipe. It was almost as if the footholds were put there for me. I reached the top of the building next to ours and walked over the roof to our lounge window. And yes there was quite a gap between the building I was on and our lounge room window. And the gap was indeed 3 stories deep. But I didn’t look down too much. I stayed cool. I concentrated on the window. I looked across the gap. I could almost touch the window. If I was to lean across I could hold onto the window frame. This didnt look all that hard so I tried it. I stiffened myself and made a bridge across with my body. I held on to the top of the window sill. I tested if the window sill was slippery. I put one hand under the window frame. The window opened easily. I tested again if the window sill was frosty. It wasn't. I put my hands inside the flat. It felt warm and comforting. I was almost home. But I still had to get across a gap of about one metre. If there is ever an example of running with scissors this was it. I ran with scissors. I took a risk and almost dived across into the window and through it. It ended up being done very quickly. I admit I did recognise there was a kind of cold spot as I passed over the gap. But I ended up safely inside sprawled on the floor. As I said I was very cool about it. I got up and carefully closed the window. But I did have a passing look at how far down the gap went. It was an awful long way. And dark. I went to bed and slept the sleep of a very relieved person. It was good to be alive and home and in bed. I had a nice Easter all by myself. It might have been this weekend I watched the very first Monty Python. By myself. But I was changed forever. I didnt ignore what I had done. I was not aloof about it. I knew had taken a big risk. I was not aloof about it at all. I had actually risked my life. The feeling stayed with me for some time. If I was called upon to do this again maybe I would no matter what the danger. But at the time I was living in London after all and I felt this was an achievement in itself. I had to keep up standards.
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