Quote:
Originally Posted by wdb
I used to climb the same tree almost every day after school. Over time I developed a very carefully designed plan for scaling it and for coming back down. Always the same moves. The final descent move was to grab a horizontal branch about 10 feet off the ground and swing from it, hanging by my hands, then drop to the ground.
I did this for a year or so. I was young, growing, getting bigger and heavier.
One day I climbed the tree, sat there for a while, started back down, grabbed the branch for my final tarzan swing move. The branch broke clean off. I fell straight down. Since I was swinging, my legs were out in front of me and I landed right on my ass. The branch, still firmly in my hands, followed; it thumped me, hard, on the top of my head.
I sat there on the ground with a knot on my head, a very sore tailbone, a bruised ass, and a very bruised ego.
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At my grandparents summer home (which was near to the site of the bee sighting) I built myself a diving board or what ever the word. It was a great way to jump to the lake and to avoid the snakes. I did that all summer long until I was nine then my grandma died and my lovely grandpa banned us all from the cabin.
When I got my first leave while in the army, I ran off to the cabin that was only a few hundred km's away from the base . The first thing I did was to strip, run for my board, the board broke, and hit me in the back while I landed in the shallow water that I could've sworn less than a minute earlier was at least five meters deep...
I went back to the base with badly bruised ego, a sore back and ass, but I did grill all my meals using that traitorous plank.
Amazing what 20 kilos and 10 years can do.
Well done Wdb!