On the subject of LADDERS I might write about;
Climbing the LADDER to corporate succes
The LADDER in a lady’s stocking
Playing a game of Snakes and LADDERS
Using a LADDER to cut the hedge
OR It could be the LADDER that caused me grievous bodily harm.
It came about, due once more, to the uncanny superstitions that my dear Aunt Fran has embedded in the deep recesses of her brain.
Shopping is BIG in her life and I go along for company as the final collapse is always in a Milk Bar where I
order a tall vaselike container full of ice cream, hot toffee sauce and chocolate chunks.
We were walking along the busy high street. I was dodging pedestrians and sort of noticed that up in front, a man was painting an overhead sign. I had seen the ladder leaning against the wall and subconsciously figured that there was enough space for me to walk underneath. At least that space was free of people.
Suddenly Aunt Fran woke the dead with a screech, “DANGER….LOOK OUT….LADDER!”
Simultaneously her large powerful hand grabbed me by my arm and yanked me backwards. My head hit the side of the ladder, hard, causing it to wobble dangerously.My feet flipped up in front of me and through the shower of stars circling around my head I saw the man falling backwards. The yellow paint he was using flew in a graceful arc until it slooshed onto the shop window in a bright sunburst.
The Saturday shoppers froze in horrified concentration. There was a stunned hush…
“SEE,” shrieked Aunt Fran cradling my bleeding head to her generous bosom, “DIDN’T I WARN YOU ABOUT THE DANGER OF WALKING UNDER THAT LADDER."
