Muddied and Bloodied at Burton Bradstock

Today is the first day of a new week. Our youngest is back at school following his bout of chicken pox. And that meant I could finally get on with some work. I had a lot to think about for a new project I’ve volunteered to complete so I decided to go for a walk to get my thoughts in order. I decided to head to Burton Bradstock for some bracing sea air and to get my thoughts in order.

It didn’t really work out that way. Instead I provided a great subject for an amusing gif – should anyone have been filming me. The wind was howling at Burton Bradstock this morning, the sea was wild and the air was extremely cold. Not a lot of thinking got done initially. I’d brought my camera along and walked up the east path from the beach to get a better view of my surroundings.

I wasn’t feeling inspired, even creatively with the camera nor with my thoughts on the report I had to write. Rejoining the path was where things went wrong. The ground was extremely muddy and stepping down a slope the grass gave way to the mud and I began to fall. During this fall I spun around and landed on my chest and face.

There wasn’t much of my front that wasn’t caked in mud. A kind dog walker passed by and managed not to laugh and instead asked me if I was okay and if there wasn’t anything they could do. We had a brief chat and I said the biggest damage was embarrassment. That wasn’t quite true as I discovered heading back to my car – there was a definite limp and my left arm was very painful.

At least all the mud was on my front which meant the car seat wouldn’t suffer. I got home and cleaned myself up, discovered that I’d bashed my left elbow quite a bit and filled my sleeve with blood. The funny thing is what was running through my mind in the minutes and moments before I fell. A few minutes before I’d approach a gap in the headland then said to myself “no, you always promise the wife you’ll be safe.” and so turned away from the edge. The irony was my fall and injury took place well away from a danger point, it was merely trying to return to the path. “You’re not very sure-footed Harry,” I told myself. “How sure-footed aren’t you? See those goats that climb the side of a near vertical damn, well I’m the opposi…” It was at this point I fell.

And so dear readers that is why I am going to post these photos – because I bled to get them. The extreme tone-mapping is far from my usual style, I normally hate it, but they lend the images and anger that perfect fits how I felt at the time having made a complete arse of myself at Burton Bradstock and covering myself with mud.