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19 January 2013

2012 was the year in which I was twice thumped by a sheep. Once just before our National SF Convention, and again by that darned ram. (Both thumpers have now gone the way of all flesh. It does not pay to thump your shepherd.) But on New year’s day I opened my newspaper to see that I had actually been lucky. On the one day they had stories on: a man who drowned when the Waiohine River flash flooded. A woman whose car was hit by a train when she drove onto the tracks without looking – she was incredibly lucky and survived. A fisherman was left in agony on Riversdale Beach when he was stung by what was probably a stingray. It looks as if we’ve lost one tramper while finding another, a jockey died in a fall from her horse, one is dead, and two others badly hurt in different car crashes, and some incredibly low-life beat up an old lady for cash which she didn’t have and stole her car. Okay, I don’t go tramping, canoeing , fishing, or horse-riding (any more) but I do spend time being driven places and considering holiday traffic that’s always a risk. And anyone can open their door to find themselves attacked although to do that a would-be attacker has to get past Duke the pitbull next door (who loves me) and my five geese (who adore savaging intruders) and our local policeman who lives directly opposite my front gate – but it could easily happen. Considering all of which, I think I prefer being thumped by sheep, it’s less painful – and a lot less hazardous to my life and health.

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