I was up the field course on my own and one of my shots was a little wild; instead of hitting the boss it hit the wood and embedded itself immovably.
I struggled for about fifteen minutes before giving up. It just wasn't budging. Then I had a brainwave. I managed to unscrew the point. It meant losing the point in the wood but at least I saved the expensive carbon shaft.
I walked to the next target, congratulating myself about how clever I was.
Of course, which arrow do I pick out of the quiver? Yes, the one with no point.
Arrows with no point really don't fly well. It took a really nice core out of a tree, like a spud-gun from a potato. Needless to say, the shaft was ruined. At least I went home with the nock I suppose.
There I am in my one car lock up, doing some welding on my car. There's no power in my lock up, so it's gas welding.
Tum te tum, getting on great here.....
Hmmm, my leg's getting a bit warm, I'll move it away from the heat a little.
Tum te tum ............
Hmmm. leg's still a litle warm - better move it further.
Tum te tum ............
Still hot - a bit further then.
This continues 'till my leg was against the garage wall and I cannot move it any further. At this point I decide that I'd better flip the mask up and have a look.
SH*T! Leg's on fire. With remarkable coolness I pat out the flames.
At this point in the story I think that maybe I'd better point out the condition of my overalls - old and really really grease stained. Plus, with gas welding all day I guess that the atmosphere's pretty oxygen rich.
Hmmmm. Pat the flames out.
So what happens? Whoomp! Leg bursts into flames again.
Hmmmm. Pat the flames out again.
Whoomp! Leg bursts into flames again.
Hmmmmmm. There's a pattern developing here.
Luckily I notice a bucket in the corner of the garage. I grab it and rush round to the standpipe at the end of the block, my leg an impressive mass of smoke and flames.
So there I am, standing at the standpipe, leg on flames, waiting for the bucket to fill.
Finally!!!! Leg goes into the bucket up to mid-calf. There's a loud hissing and the flames finally go out. I leave it in the water for a while to cool down. Much to the amusement of the kids hanging round ...................
Had my thick leather Redwing boots on so no real damage other than to my overalls and my dignity.
When I was doing my bridge inspecting we were inspecting the internals of a bridge abutment on the Edinburgh bypass. To get in we had to lift the manholes; the traffic management operatives were supposed to do the lifting for us. But, hey, anyone can lift a manhole, right?
Nope. We were lifting it, it slipped, and it dropped into the interior of the bridge abutment - about 60 feet.
Everything went into slow motion - the manhole cover seemed to flutter down like an autumn leaf - I swear that it took about ten minutes to hit bottom. I had plenty of time to think about what a pillock I was, to wonder if it was going to shatter when it hit bottom, to think about how everyone was going to tell me what a pillock I was, and how I was going to get the sack, and how long it was going to take for me to get a new job.
The clang when it hit bottom was incredible. Passing motorists were startled. I swear that in Edinburgh they thought it was the one o'clock gun.
The traffic management guys were great - apart from a bit of head shaking they never said anything, never told anyone and no-one at work ever found out. Apart from the people involved in winching it out.
When I was doing computer customer support I was sent to a customer site in a small country in Africa.
I was shown into the manager's office - he was on the telephone.
The call took quite a while and I got a little bored. I started leaning back on my seat.
I overbalanced, flipped backwards, and did a perfect back roll across the office floor. As I rolled I thought I'd better own my mistake, and commit to the bit so jumped up at the end of the roll and gave it an enthusiastic "Ta-daaaaa!".