I fell over in a car-park yesterday.
And it wasn't a quiet, deserted car-park either. It was packed with shoppers and cars. I have no idea what happened. I was walking along merrily chatting to my husband when I just seemed to go over on my ankle. The next time I looked, I was on the floor flat out.
The shame of it. And the pain too. I've never known anything like it. My husband picked me up and I managed to hobble into the DIY store, where because of my dreadful ordeal, he took pity on me and bought me a cup of tea in the cafe.
And during all this my ankle was throbbing intensely. I was convinced I'd broken it but my DH told me not to be silly. 'You can walk on it, can't you?' - he said, and then I reminded him of the time his late sister had walked around on a broken ankle for a week after being misdiagnosed at the hospital. That made him ponder, so he even offered to treat me to a Danish pastry, but I was in so much pain, I turned him down, which is a real first for me, I can tell you.
Then our conversation turned to the time my late mum went through a phase of falling off the bus. This might sound peculiar but those of you who are around my age (ahem) will remember the double-decker buses that were completely open at the back. As teenagers we used to cling on to the rail with one hand, then gauge it so we could take a flying leap on to the pavement as the bus started to slow down. In fact, my husband was once pushed clean off one of these things by his so-called mate and managed to rip the knees completely out of his school trousers.
Anyway, I digress. Back in the seventies, my poor mother did go through a phase of falling off the bus. I'm certain she didn't try and leap off the back like we did, but I know on at least three occasions she fell off the back platform on to the pavement. There were no mobile phones in those days so it was left to one of the other passengers to pick her up and bring her home. I remember once or twice she made a real mess of her knees by landing on the surface of the road.
The real point to all this is - I hope my mum's bad luck, misfortune or whatever you'd call it has not been passed down to me. I don't relish the thought of turning into someone who falls over for no apparent reason, or, as they say in Lancashire - trips over fresh air. Sorry mum.
The walk back to the car yesterday seemed endless. It was probably only a couple of hundred yards but it felt like a mile. DH said he would go and get the car but I refused and limped on. I'll definitely give him much more sympathy the next time his gout flares up.
I should have taken up the offer of the walking stick he offered to buy me whilst in the store.
Get it bought. We'll share it, my dear.
Until next time.
Kim x
And it wasn't a quiet, deserted car-park either. It was packed with shoppers and cars. I have no idea what happened. I was walking along merrily chatting to my husband when I just seemed to go over on my ankle. The next time I looked, I was on the floor flat out.
The shame of it. And the pain too. I've never known anything like it. My husband picked me up and I managed to hobble into the DIY store, where because of my dreadful ordeal, he took pity on me and bought me a cup of tea in the cafe.
And during all this my ankle was throbbing intensely. I was convinced I'd broken it but my DH told me not to be silly. 'You can walk on it, can't you?' - he said, and then I reminded him of the time his late sister had walked around on a broken ankle for a week after being misdiagnosed at the hospital. That made him ponder, so he even offered to treat me to a Danish pastry, but I was in so much pain, I turned him down, which is a real first for me, I can tell you.
Then our conversation turned to the time my late mum went through a phase of falling off the bus. This might sound peculiar but those of you who are around my age (ahem) will remember the double-decker buses that were completely open at the back. As teenagers we used to cling on to the rail with one hand, then gauge it so we could take a flying leap on to the pavement as the bus started to slow down. In fact, my husband was once pushed clean off one of these things by his so-called mate and managed to rip the knees completely out of his school trousers.
Anyway, I digress. Back in the seventies, my poor mother did go through a phase of falling off the bus. I'm certain she didn't try and leap off the back like we did, but I know on at least three occasions she fell off the back platform on to the pavement. There were no mobile phones in those days so it was left to one of the other passengers to pick her up and bring her home. I remember once or twice she made a real mess of her knees by landing on the surface of the road.
The real point to all this is - I hope my mum's bad luck, misfortune or whatever you'd call it has not been passed down to me. I don't relish the thought of turning into someone who falls over for no apparent reason, or, as they say in Lancashire - trips over fresh air. Sorry mum.
The walk back to the car yesterday seemed endless. It was probably only a couple of hundred yards but it felt like a mile. DH said he would go and get the car but I refused and limped on. I'll definitely give him much more sympathy the next time his gout flares up.
I should have taken up the offer of the walking stick he offered to buy me whilst in the store.
Get it bought. We'll share it, my dear.
Until next time.
Kim x
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