Pavement
In the early stages of my courting of Lady Scaramanga, we had an evening out with her cousin and her husband.
As they had three kids they didn't get out very often, so they were very much up for a full session.
We arrived at there's mid-afternoon, for a chinese and a few stiffeners, and walking up he path I heard a yell...

"Get off the path! That's cements not dry yet!"

Cousin's husband had been laying new slabs all morning and, rightly, didn't want me to wreck all his hard work.

On to booze. We drank merrily and heartily all afternoon, then off to the pub for more, returning very very worse for wears after a lock in at their local.

Approaching the house, I kept repeating to myself "Don't walk on the path... Don't walk on the path... Don't walk on the path... Don't walk on the path..."

I must have broken something in my brain because as we got to the path, I stopped, thought about a new plan of action... and proceeded to vomit all over it instead.
( Joe Scaramanga with a G-double-O-D vibration, Mon 18 Feb 2013, 10:09, Reply)