Accidents waiting to happen

June 3, 2015

Last night, I was going for a sunset drink with an old friend, and I decided to take Harley the Wonder Dog with me. I took a tuk-tuk to the north-west corner of the Royal Palace, so he could have a bit of a walk, down to the riverside; as I got out of the tuk-tuk it began to rain, hard.

We walked slowly along the wall of the palace, sheltering as best we could from the monsoon rain, coming in from the south, in the lee of the wall. By the time we got to the end of the wall, we were both soaked, but still had a couple of hundred yards of open ground to cover, so I decided to lean up against the wall and watch for a bit.

As we stood there, casually watching the world go by, I heard a crack above me and looked up. And saw a vast tree branch falling directly at us. With my well-known ninja skills coming to the fore, I kicked the dog away from me, and about a billionth of a second later this humungous branch sailed past our heads and smacked into the pavement.

I thought the dog was dead. Luckily he was not. But another two inches, and it would have broken his back like a breadstick. Another two inches the other way, and it would have pulverised my skull. I don’t want to exaggerate, but this branch was six or seven inches across at its thickest, must have been fifteen feet long and weighed a couple of hundred pounds, and fell about 40 feet. We were incredibly lucky (also, ninja).

It was, incidentally, at almost precisely the same spot where Harley spotted a snake a few weeks ago, oiling its way across the pavement. We went over to take a closer look, and the snake, which was green and about three feet long, rather took against this, and got all attack-y, which I thought was a bit much. Luckily Harley was on the leash, so I pulled him away, or the morning would have become something of a veterinary nightmare.

I had just been reflecting about accidental death that morning when reading about the ferry sinking in China; one moment you’re cheerfully asleep: the next and you’re trying to breathe the Yangtze in the dark. Luckily, I thought, that’s unlikely to happen to me, as I live a very sober and quiet life. When I was younger, however, like most young men, I did any number of colossally dangerous stuff, often involving shotguns, motorbikes, feral bulls, rock faces, agricultural machinery, chemicals and alcohol. But I grew up, and stopped practically all the bad shit. Now, apart from taking tuk-tuks on the streets of Cambodia, I do nothing dangerous at all: I am old and wise and careful.

And yet, in the last three years, I’ve been hospitalised for a week and spent six months on crutches after simply walking down the street. And was hit by a rogue motorbike. And now was almost turned into human pâté like something from out of The Omen. I’m not sure that Cambodia is any more dangerous than anywhere else, but sometimes it feels that way.

And still on the subject of stuff I don’t know: I’d always thought I knew quite a lot about British rock music of the 1970s. But a few days ago I discovered that a host of British music luminaries held a series of concerts to benefit Cambodia in 1979, and I’d never heard of it.

Organised by the unlikely duo of Paul McCartney and former-Nazi UN Secretary General Kurt Waldheim, the Concerts for the People of Kampuchea were held between Christmas and the New Year at the Hammersmith Odeon in London. They featured, amongst others, The Who, The Clash, Elvis Costello and the Attractions, Queen, Ian Dury and the Blockheads, The Specials, The Pretenders, Wings, and a band of all-stars organised by McCartney, which included John Paul Jones and Robert Plant, and saw John Bonham’s last-ever British appearance.

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The concert was released on vinyl only, in 1980, and has never been re-released. Allmusic says of the vinyl recording: “The audio quality is shabby; nothing leaps out as being more sonically interesting than a live radio broadcast, and the performances are okay but not staggering.”

Like everything else in life, it is available on Youtube, but I haven’t watched it yet, because it starts with Queen, and I’d really rather stab myself in the face with a radioactive knife than watch Queen. Or perhaps take the dog out for a walk.

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2 Responses to “Accidents waiting to happen”

  1. nicola ellis said

    Phew that God you are such an agile ninja, the only lesson can be, don’t take excercise!

  2. David Hayhurst said

    Ah, it still makes me see red! Had a copy of the benefit concert album. Moving into some really shitty student digs in 1985, some (probably) snot-nosed teenage punks did a smash and grab on our ground-floor flat while we were busy unloading the van. And what were the only things they got: two shopping bags full of my LPs. What’s the point, resale value-wise? All they did was steal my joy. Of course never got around to replacing most of them, including a few rarities like the Kampuchea concert.

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