Accidents happen in the home. We have government departments to make warning films about them and give us safety targets to aim at. But home is also where the heart is, which is in the sea paddling my surfboard into ocean swell. 

Accidents also happen in the home which is where your heart is. One second upright, standing tall, looking down the wave face, surfboard fins singing as they grip the water.

Mystical union with ocean energy. Time stands still. 

Then, the fall. Time restarts. Real time, measured by lung capacity. Under water, gripped by the barrelling wave that slams your board against your body and hammers you into the sea bed, there is no air. 

 

After the initial dread in this dark and noisy cellar region, time shifts again. One second is like ten minutes - plenty of time to confront mortality, waiting for the washing machine effect to end. 

 

The washing machine in the kitchen of the house never induces trauma. Sometimes it leaks all over the floor, but so far it has never threatened to drown me.