Snowday

Lockdown snow. “A nice bracing walk”, thought I. So off I trundled on a five-mile round trip, well wrapped up, walking shoes on and a bottle of water in my pocket. About four miles in, one mile from home, the frozen puddle won. I stepped on it and zoomed down straight onto my hip. Why is it that there is a certain amount of pride about laying a motorbike down; it’s like a rite of passage, but when walking, it just makes you look daft?

Apart from damaged pride and some bruises that I know will be bruises for England when they come out, I was undamaged. But it could have been so much worse. If I’d slipped about ten feet further on, I might have landed on a steaming pile of dog poo. If you have a dog, pick up its damn poo!