We have rather ancient metal estate fencing round the field, the kind with rigid bars and uprights. Whilst climbing over the fence to walk the dog yesterday I was thinking of our friend Anne. Anne discovered rather painfully when climbing said fence, that her inside leg was not quite as long as she thought. Retiring hurt she took to squeezing through the bars, a testament to her running regime as even the dog is a bit squeezed getting through.

Smiling to myself over this, I swung a leg over the top rail and groped for the one below. Before I had my footing the top rail sheered off and I dropped at a rate of knots to the next one down before planting on my face in the field.

There is only one thing to do with a loss of dignity of that magnitude – so I laughed uproariously.

Keith, however, was not amused. He gave me a thorough ticking off for causing extra work by “climbing the wrong way”. Now it has to be said that this resulted in a degree of froideur on my part, and a spirited retreat to the greenhouse on where I viciously poked various seedlings. However, tempers calmed, the dog was walked and the evening wore on amicably.

This morning I have a giant bruise on my bum.

I think, Anne, we can regard this as one all……..

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