IT happened very, very quickly. I went down like the proverbial sack of . . . you know what. And then the stars and the birdies appeared just like they do when an animated character cops a wallop squarely on the noggin.
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Until then, I had been enjoying a leisurely early Saturday afternoon shop at Harris Farm Markets in Darby Street, Cooks Hill. I'm not a fan of the game of parking chequers at Harris Farm Markets at the best of times, and get a bit angsty when entering or exiting the place. But I get most angsty when exiting the place.
And that's because there'll always be someone in a Toyota HiLux twin cab ute with a massive bull bar wanting to turn right onto Darby Street. You can wait behind the HiLux for what seems like years but is probably up to two minutes. But time expands disproportionately when waiting in Newy traffic when surrounded by HiLux twin cab utes with massive bull bars.
I was on the ground with a cracker of a cramp so I just couldn't spring up, but the words "old man fall" got me up.
It's the contemporary Newcastle version of Spielberg's 1971 film Duel. To gain the confidence to exit right from Harris Farm Markets, the HiLux driver has to stick the vehicle's nose a tad too far out into oncoming traffic. This is because there are three Toyota HiLux twin cab utes parked against the gutter 30 metres on the right that impede the vision of other vehicles heading south on Darby Street. Although you don't really need to see what's coming. You can bet with some certainty it'll be a Toyota HiLux twin cab ute.
Walking south on the footpath outside Harris Farm Market, I caught a foot on a lip of concrete.
Man down.
I sought desperately to avoid the embarrassment of someone standing over me and declaring loudly - as happened just off an escalator at Charlestown Square about 12 months ago - "this old man has had a fall but he's alright". Old. Man. Fall.
These were the words of a well-meaning woman in her early twenties who responded to someone asking what had happened and should an ambulance be called.
I was on the ground with a cracker of a cramp so I just couldn't spring up, but the words "old man fall" got me up.
On Darby Street, I got up slowly and realised I had done a hammy. Had a groin strain. Went home and had an Epsom salts bath and lay around for a week. Listened to some old man music and watched some old man movies.
Once, you could take legal action against councils if you received an injury from a trip and fall event because of a dodgy footpath. The NSW Government changed the law back in 2002, and a council is - in most cases - no longer responsible for a trip and fall on a footpath. The same applies after doing damage to your vehicle because of a pothole. Your bad. Soz.
However, if a council was aware of a hazard and failed to act to rectify a problem, that might result in a different outcome. You'd need to get one of those shouty television lawyers promising justice for personal injury to set the record straight on the legal avenues after falling a-over-t on a dodgy footpath.
And how would you know if a trip hazard on a footpath had been previously reported? And what is a reasonable amount of time for a council to act to rectify the hazard? What percentage of people report these incidents?
Maybe the lack of footpath maintenance increased once the opportunity for an injured person to proceed with legal action was stymied. Maybe that is why so many of the footpaths around Newcastle need more than a quick patch.
But fixing footpaths - something radical like making them flat - doesn't seem to have any priority.
There are some new footpaths in Newcastle - the new Merewether shared path is fantastic - but there are some stinkers that need urgent attention.
The footpath on the west side of Wolfe Street between King and Church streets has had more patching than Nanna's quilt. Tree roots lift the asphalt. There are catch-a-heel holes. It's more obstacle course than footpath.
I guess new footpaths do not provide the all-important photo opportunity for pollies, while fixing up old footpaths doesn't attract the same attention.
I'll ponder that while I lay down and read an old man book and think about one of my old man's recurring pieces of advice: "Watch where you're going, son".
It's especially pertinent when traversing some of the dodgy old footpaths around Newcastle.
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