When An Accident Prone No One Runs Into A Celebrity There Will Be Chaos...

Late again.

The bus has been late for the entire week, and of course it has to choose the week where it has poured down with rain. When I say rain, I don't mean a pathetic drizzle, I mean an absolute downpour. You know, the type of rain that soaks you to your skin, relentlessly and violently pelting you, desperate to get you soaked. On Monday, my newly brought umbrella was ripped from my grasp and after five minutes of chasing it down the street (to the background noise of people laughing at me,) I found it ruined. On Tuesday, my folder got soaked leaving me with limp soggy sheets in my grasp with rivers of black ink tracing their way down onto my hands leaving me with irremovable ink stains. On Wednesday, my newly typed up folder was torn from my hand and once again a humiliating chase followed. On Thursday, my brand new newly brought umbrella was turned inside out and I was once again left with a useless umbrella. And now, on Friday, I am just waiting for the next disaster to strike.

That's probably the first thing you should know about me: I am (without a doubt,) the ditziest person you will ever meet. Dizzy Izzie has been my nickname for as long as I can remember. It's not that I'm thick I just don't have any sense. Do you know how long it took me to work out the origin of square eyes? Fourteen years! I thought the television actually turned your eyes square!

I have this theory that there is only so much room in a person's brain and I compromised on common sense for, what I hope is, intelligence. Another thing you should know about me is that I'm very accident prone. I walk into lamp-posts, trip over my own feet… in fact I'm so clumsy I once tried to walk through a door, missed and walked straight into the frame instead. In short mistakes are closer to me than my own shadow.

My eyes flick down to my watch, oops! Today I actually hope the bus is late because today I'm late too. I was in too much of a hurry to grab a coat, so once again I have no protection whatsoever from the rain; so I'm drenched. My clothes are clinging uncomfortably onto my skin and my once styled hair is soaked and stuck to my forehead. I attempt to run down the street (which only confirms that putting on high heels this morning was not a good decision.) I clatter around the corner and sigh with relief as the bus has only just pulled away. Well that’s lucky, I'm going to make it. I rush over wildly flapping my hands, the driver notices, nods and waits for me. This morning seems to be running quite smoothly for me then it happens... CRACK.

I guess I spoke too soon. With a cry of frustration I collect the bottom half of my left heel and eventually make my way onto the bus bobbing up and down with the difference in height between my regular shoe and my shoe with a now broken heel. Brilliant.

Eventually I manage to make it into work, very late, but at least I’m here. I hobble through the empty corridor and of course it's empty because everybody on my floor is already in the meeting. I'm really late.

“Sorry,” I call as I bob past Becky the receptionist.

“You're late again,” she says me with a patronizing tone. I assume that smug smile on her face is the sign of the many ways she is planning to rat me out to our boss. Why is she always so miserable? Let's look at this objectively, it's not my fault if the bus is late is it? But the more you tell people it’s not your fault, the more people presume that it is in fact your fault. I’ve learnt that sometimes it’s best just to drop the explanations and accept defeat.

“You've missed the start,” she calls after me, the joy at my misery clear in her voice. Miserable cow.