Ever accidentally dropped a tin of paint down the stairs?…I just have.
The mind, the imagination, the terror, is all focused in slow-motion.
All I could do was stand helpless and stiffly on the stepladder, wide-eyed in stunned, expletive silence and observe the totally random bounce of the tin as it's acrylic white contents decided where to splish, splash, splosh, on the carpet on the walls and eventually on Emily's brown suede boots that had carefully positioned themselves in the perfect spot in the hallway below, to receive the final vestiges of wicked white dribble from this cantankerous tin and with particular evil impressive skill, land, perhaps even laughing, the right way up.
Serendipity?…not!
