I can't help falling..

I fell down the stairs this morning. That'll teach me for, uh, getting up to make coffee. Don't worry, apart from a sore shoulder, skew neck and bruised back I'm okay. Really I'm only surprised it hasn't happened sooner.

The other day the local radio station invited people to text in their experiences of embarrassing falls they may have had, prompted by a story told by the lady presenter of a wedding she had attended that weekend. Apparently she had decided - no doubt emboldened by a couple of pints - that she was a world-class dancer, and had launched herself across the dance floor into the arms of her one-and-only... only he wasn't quite on the same wavelength and had failed to, well, catch her, sending her plummeting in her fancy outfit into a heap on said dance floor, head first.

My own beloved wanted to send a message in, along the lines of, "My wife falls down so often I think she is more likely to be surprised to find she is standing up".

While some may think this is a mean thing to say about the woman you love, I have to admit it's not far from the truth. Perhaps I should share some anecdotes to illustrate the point.

I think I'll start with this one...
Picture it: a svelte twenty-something Terri, all dressed up in pretty sandals and evening dress, attending the company Christmas dinner at a posh restaurant. All was going well and I had only had one glass of wine (yes, really!), when I decided to step outside for a cigarette. It was midsummer in South Africa and it was just dark out. A light drizzle had arrived to cool the evening down after the heat of the day. Pay attention now, because this is your lesson for the day: Pretty sandals, glossy floor tiles and light rain do not make for a particularly gripping situation and in one not-so-elegant misstep I tumbled down, landing with a sharp CRACK on my right knee. What escaped my mouth was not particularly elegant either, and the sight of my boss rushing towards me in consternation did nothing to help my humour. It hurt like hell, and all I could say, while rubbing my knee and trying not to lose consciousness from the pain was, "Don't touch me! Don't. Touch. Me!"
Embarrassing, you think?

How about diving nose-first into the couch after my rubber-soled shoe sort of got stuck on the floor (I don't know how, but it left a skid-mark!)? Thank goodness the couch was there to break my fall before my nose could break the floor. Ah well, at least only Hubby was there to witness that one. He had the good grace to wait until I started laughing before he exploded with mirth.

Unlike the time, shortly after our arrival in Ireland, when we went a-walking in Howth, a beautiful harbour on the North side of Dublin. If you walk to the top of the hill, the view over the little town by the sea and the Island just a little way off, is quite breathtaking. In Summertime that part of the world is always filled with tourists. This particular day we were on our way back down the hill. Yours truly, distracted by the pretty view, wasn't watching where she was walking. I stepped in a pot-hole in the road and the next thing I knew I was face down on the ground in the midst of a group of Spanish tourists, all of them enquiring as to my well-being. I guess that's what they were saying, anyway, judging by the concern on their faces, since I don't speak Spanish. Grrrr! If I wasn't so sore (that dreaded right knee again) and grazed from the tarmac I would have been Really Pissed Off.

And I'm sure I don't need to remind you of my attempts at skiing earlier this year, but in case you've forgotten, the easiest way thing to do is watch "Bridget Jones - The Edge of Reason", specifically the part where she goes on a skiing mini-break with Mark Darcy. It was on TV on Friday night and I just sat there with my mouth open thinking, "That's Me! I know exactly how that feels!" And to think the first time I saw that movie I thought the scriptwriters were exaggerating.

Yep, I'm pretty much always sporting a bruise somewhere on my body. If I'm not falling over something, I'm tripping over nothing. Uh-huh, it's true: I have been known to trip over mere shadows on the ground. More than once. Then there are all those hazardous corners on desks, counters, beds, chairs - you name it, I've walked into it. I once went to work with a massive bruise on my forehead - I genuinely did walk into a door. It's amazing how difficult it is to convince people that this actually happens. Of course, once people have spent any length of time in my company it's much easier because my klutziness is pretty apparent.

I think it's a spatial awareness thing. Apparently I don't have any.
Ah well, I guess everyone has at least one downfall in life ;)