Mud has a lot to answer for.

So yesterday I was roaming through the woods at my favourite spot in the New Forest and like the clumsy dolt I am, managed to get myself stuck up to my knees in mud. In retrospect maybe I should have stayed in the mud and called for a flock of burly firemen to rescue me…. But as I had no idea where I was, having roamed randomly through the woods for a good half hour I decided to utilise my very own rescue squad (my lovely Newfies – Lola and Martha). So with the assistance of a pair of ‘trained’ rescue dogs and some handy nearly trees I managed to lever myself free.

So there I was… so giddy that I’d managed to avoid almost certain death due to quick-sand (quick mud?) drowning that I skipped gleefully on and pranced majestically over a ditchy stream thing.

Of course ‘prancing majestically’ is code for losing my footing on the opposite bank and face planting onto the muddy bank the other side.

As if that wasn’t enough I managed to land with my arm (and somehow my shoulder) right under me. I heard a crunchy sound that suggested I’d snapped my arm, but thankfully it seems to be a bad bone bruise and lots of lovely strained muscles/ligaments etc. Never have I been so glad for stupid amounts of mud and a flabby gut to cushion my fall and allow me to avert potential arm snappage.