La gêne

I'd rather forget most of last week. Embarrassing moments as follows:

1. Offering to be in goal, provided J. didn't "blast the ball at me", wearing a skirt which the wind clearly delighted in lifting, a top which, on reflection, is a little low cut for school and a pair of shoes which, while flat, were not designed with football in mind.
2. Falling over outside the teachers' centre in Mile End.
3. Falling up the stairs at lesson change (and swearing very, very loudly).
4. Being HOUNDED up Villiers Street by a student from the London School of Fashion who, much enamoured of my big curly mop of hair, wanted me to be a model for his portfolio. ("Are you blushing?", he asks. "Yes, just at the very thought of it", I replied).
5. Falling over coming out of Upney tube, being picked up by two men and bursting into tears while explaining I'd fallen over three times in two days and I'd really rather hurt my knee, hip and shoulder on one side now. Poor things didn't know what to do (although I think one was contemplating giving me a drag on his joint but thought better of it - just as well given I've never smoked anything in my life and probably would have choked - topping the evening off fantastically).