A Bugle, a Ladder and a Salvadore Dali

A pupet model of Salvadore Dali blowing a bugle and holding long feather plumes sits on a patchwork hessian camel decorated with a red scarf A birdcage and an antique portrait are in the background

I’m sorting through fabulous books acquired over the last week. Lord knows where I’m going to put them. The shop is becoming increasingly difficult to navigate, with boxes of books to sort piled up in front of the desk.

The most dramatic thing to happen this week was a less-than-graceful descent from a ladder.

You may be familiar with the flying camel, which looks down over the bookshop, straddled by a Salvador Dali-esque character with feather accoutrements.

Well, I acquired a bugle, and, of course, decided that Salvador needed that bugle.

Of course. Not. Whatever.

Anyway, I wrangled the ladder into the bookshop – it’s one of those A-frame step ladders that have two “legs”, which you are supposed to secure with a brace.

But I was in a hurry. I couldn’t wait to see Salvador flourishing his bugle, so up I went.

But then the ladder started to collapse beneath me.

I was on the second-to-top rung, and I found myself

slowly

descending,

still upright,

as the ladder gently subsided beneath me.

Gosh, I’m going to get away with this, I thought.

I was still upright, keeping my balance like a pro-surfer at Bells Beach performing what us surfers call ‘Riding the A-frame’.

It was thrilling.

But then, about a foot from the floor, the downward momentum momentarily stopped.

There was a moment of perfect stasis, me balanced there, still upright, a foot above the floor, clutching the bugle, the ladder spread-eagled at a nearly – but unfortunately not quite – 180 degrees.

And then it collapsed.

Down I crashed: me, the ladder, the bugle.

I ended up in an untidy heap on the floor, still clutching the bugle, the ladder perfectly flat on the floor.

Closeup of a womans leg in an ankle-length boot with a chunky high heel, resting against a copy of the book The Seven Pillars Of Wisdom in a cluttered bookshelf

So, the Religious Tract Society published all sorts of wonderful books at the close of the 19th century. They are beautifully embellished with fabulously decorated boards with gilt ornamentation, and were used to instruct children in the finer points of moral thought and behaviour.

I’m not sure there is one on the perils of ascending unbraced ladders due to unbridled impetuosity, but there should be.

Don’t do it!

I am sporting numerous bruises and contusions, and will henceforth brace all ladders securely before ascension.