Falling over with high heels on
#1 Chickenlady at 13
Dressed up in my finest New Romantic clothes I was walking into town with my mother. This involved going through an underpass which, being an underpass, had a sloping floor.

Me, being a 13 year old style conscious New Romantic (ha! that's an oxymoron if ever I heard it!) was wearing my beloved burgundy red pixie boots which had very, very smooth soles.

I slipped over, no surprise there. I was surprised however when I managed to successfully wind myself and was unable to move or breathe at all.

My mother stood by and laughed, people walked past and sniggered.

I however remained on the ground, heaving desperately for air whilst my white cotton schoolgirl knickers were on show to all and sundry.

#2 Chickenlady the young mother
As many of you know I have twin boys who are now 10 years old. When they were tiny chicks I was a very active member of my local Twins and Multiples club - handy for discounts in local shops - sadly not Off Licenses.

I was invited by the local radio station to go on air to do an interview all about having twins because the club was celebrating its tenth birthday.

So I left the babies with grandparents and trekked off to the studios. And me, being me, was running late.

I had trouble finding a car park nearby, but finally succeeded in locating an NCP right next to the studios. I jumped out, locked the car up and began to run across the tarmac in the direction of the local radio station....

while wearing high heeled sandals...and a long tight skirt....

Did I mention the tarmac was cracked and had large potholes in it?

I tripped, put my hand out to save myself and it made contact with someone's car. I had my car keys still in my hand at the time. I keyed the car rather badly. I also twisted my foot rather badly.

I limped to the studios all the time cursing myself for setting out late.
I was nearly in tears - from pain? Oh no.
I was nearly in tears because I was missing my moment of glory - the moment when the wonderful Barbara Sturgeon would recognise my radio talent and insist I take over from her. She would step down from her position as the leading light of Radio Kent and hand over the show to me, Chickenlady.

I reached the studios...they were on the first floor. There didn't appear to be any lift. I limped and hopped up twenty-odd stairs every step a step closer to fame and more pain.

I announced myself and was ushered in to the studio, given headphones and had the interview.

Somewhere a recording of this interview exists - I've never heard it myself, but apparently I sounded a little "odd".

I don't remember any of it.

I had to be taken to hospital afterwards.

I'd broken three bones in my foot and was in plaster for the next six weeks.

#3 Chickenlady and the Geese
Two years ago I received two pet geese for Christmas from the now ex Mr Chickenlady. I loved my geese and they're still going strong, but sadly they live with him and not me.

Anyway, Boxing Day saw us visiting my parents for lunch, presents and rather a lot of mulled wine, Champagne, whiskey and of course plenty of chocolate liqueurs.

At around 6 o'clock it was dark and I was slightly 'tired and emotional' (okay, I was pissed) but the geese still had to be put to bed.

*Agricultural Note*
Chickens roost and therefore will put themselves into their house as soon as dusk falls - they still need to have the door of their house closed behind them to stop the local fox, but they do go to bed without bother.

Geese don't.

Geese, like most animals, won't go in anywhere if it's dark, so a torch has to be shone on the open door of their house so they know where to go and that it's safe.

(This has nothing to do with the story).

Anyway...

As I'd only just got the geese their enclosure was a quickly erected chickenwire fence which linked up to a wooden picket type fence - no gate, so it required climbing over.

No stile.

No...in true rustic style two upturned plastic buckets were used as steps up to get over the fence.

As it was Boxing Day I was wearing a lovely new pair of very high heeled boots and a smart mini skirt.

Usually I would have at least put on wellies to go shut up the animals...but I was pissed.

Oh, and another thing...goose poo is has all the viscosity of axle grease.

Can you see where this is going?

I didn't.



Picket fence posts are very pointy.

The bruise started just above the back of my knee and went all the way up to my backside.

An inch or so to the left and I would have been forced to marry the fence.

Couldn't walk properly for a few days and sitting down was agony.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Wed 2 Jan 2008, 22:22, 3 replies)

Pixie boots
They were back in fashion last year - did you get some more to re-live your youth.
( girlinthehole, Thu 3 Jan 2008, 8:53, closed)

No I couldn't
Having already been there and done that once I couldn't go back...also they're all totally flat and I'm a high heeled type of woman (despite my height).
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Thu 3 Jan 2008, 9:36, closed)

Chortles *clicks*
Yay, someone almost as clumsy as me!
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Thu 3 Jan 2008, 10:08, closed)