A couple of weeks ago, I found myself face down on the pavement while Flossie and I were out walking.
It had been raining, so the ground was slippery. I had been sensible. I was wearing sturdy walking boots with a good grip.
We were on our way home from an uneventful outing when I somehow ended up on the ground.
I had stepped up onto a curb so we could walk on a grassy area. I’m not sure what happened, but the stone must have been greasy and I lost my footing.
Everything happened in slow motion. As I fell, I remember thinking how handy it was that we were opposite the doctors’ surgery.
The next moment, I was lying prostrate, half on the pavement, half on the grass.
Fortunately, I’d managed to keep hold of Flossie’s lead.
She was staring at me in disbelief and, I think, embarrassment.
My first instinct was to get up as quickly as possible before anyone saw me. I looked down to see that my jeans were covered in mud – a tell-tale sign that I’d taken a tumble.
A car drove past as I flailed around. I caught the eye of the driver. He didn’t stop.
Never mind. I wasn’t hurt. My arm and hip were a little sore but there didn’t seem to be any serious damage.
Apart from the driver, I don’t think my mishap had been observed. I’m not sure why I didn’t want to be seen, but there’s something slightly humiliating about losing one’s footing in public. It’s comparable to slipping on a banana skin.
So, I gathered myself, brushed off the detritus as best I could, arranged my facial expression to look like it was perfectly normal to face-plant outside the surgery, and we continued on our way.
Flossie looked relieved that normal service had resumed.
I was relieved to get home and fling my clothes in the washing machine, as if nothing had happened.
As published in the Bath Chronicle, 27 July 2023
Suzy Pope is a certified copywriter and newspaper columnist specialising in pets, business and lifestyle. If you would like help with a writing project, please get in touch.
