A change of direction.

A patch, a hole filled in hastily by the owner, to hide the evidence, many years ago on the forecourt of a grocer’s shop of interest to no-one except me.
In those days, I could still run down to the port and back, and  everywhere else on my beloved aluminium bike.
We were planning to go for a wild walk on the beach that Sunday morning, so I hopped on my bike, rode to the grocers’s shop to buy a couple of bread roles and did my usual, clever dick, cowboy trick, jump off the side of my bike, while coming to a halt act, which I had got down to a fine art.
So, hands on brakes, left foot down, (I am left handed) slide off to the left, in one smooth movement, except, there was a hole in the forecourt, and my foot got stuck in it.
My immediate reaction was, “Oh, my foot has gone sideways”, then the pain.
I will not bore you will the details, except that my congenital bad luck  followed me to the hospital, where, first one and then another hole was drilled through my ankle, for the purposes of traction, without an aneasthetic, because  the drill bit had come off in my foot. (Oh, I can see the funny side of that)
Did I receive an apology for the bit coming out in my foot, or the hole in the forecourt? Not on your nelly. Story of my life, do something stupid, get on with it and don't blame anyone else. Right?
For one reason or another, although the operation went well,  I was never able to run properly again, whereas my husband, who had never wanted to run at all in the first place, positively bloomed. That messed up the always doing  everything together thing,  and so marked a change in my life.
I was set to have knee surgery last summer but thanks to Covid, didn’t. The strange and wonderful thing is that my knee seems to be fine again.

The  extra is a picture by our little Ricky. Cartooons were on TV as he drew. When his  dad asked him what he was drawing, he replied "you watch your cartoons".
The figure is actually one of his favourite video game characters.