Stumbling in Flats

Ok, who suggested I should take some ski poles and go out walking in the white stuff?? And it all started so well. At 7am yesterday morning I was doing a little jig in the snow outside my house, the cat glaring at me accusingly from the window. Gloves, hooded jacket and ski poles were primed and ready to go, so I had a bit of a quick trial run, eventually deciding I looked less like a weirdo with just the one.

The Teenager was busy messaging his friends while I got myself loaded up. Keys, check. Mobile, check. Wallet, check. Huge ruck-sack, check. Emergency ration biscuits. Only joking. I headed off, feeling a bit silly with the ski pole, especially when someone yelled, ‘oi, you lost one!’ at me from the other side of the road. So far so good though.

I trekked up to the shops, feeling intrepid and adventurous and soon got into a semi-comfortable stride. Any foot drop I had was hidden by the snow. I got to the supermarket, but snowpocalypse had already struck. There was no bread, no potatoes, not much meat and hardly any fruit left. The shelves had been stripped bare. I picked up some grotty mushrooms, half-price bacon, Monster Munch crisps and a tub of double cream (no idea why, seemed a good idea).

After a quick coffee pit-stop, I trekked up the hill to my mum’s with a newspaper, another coffee, then over to Tom, the elderly guy I check in on. Stopped for a tea and a chat, then trekked back up to the shops to meet a friend for coffee, eventually getting home four hours after I set off. My cheeks were ablaze with redness, I felt exhilarated and generally rather fab. Until I took my welly boots off and crumpled in a heap in the hall.

Excruciating cramp in my legs, a sore hand from gripping my ski pole and a huge wave of tiredness sent me straight to my sofa. My legs and feet are still tingling and buzzing. Think I got a bit carried away. Note to self – perhaps take it a bit easier in the snow next time…