A wonderful day out in London with my daughters culminated in a spectacular trip at St Pancras International station. The train was a few minutes from departure time and very crowded, so worldly-wise and much-travelled dad suggested we all step it up a gear and run to the front part of the train. A deft change of direction and sudden acceleration, couple with some temporary miscommunication between brain and feet, led to the fall. My left arm shot forward in Superman style, my spectacles (not X-ray alas) remained on my head but not necessarily over my eyes, my wallet and tickets left my grip, my bag stayed with me. My mobile phone in my trouser pocket survived the impact at the cost to me of a large bruise on my thigh. We laughed about the predictablility of such an event once we secured seats on the train, thankful that I narrowly missed cracking my head on the pillar which necessitated the slight change in direction.
The event triggered memories of earlier falls, the most similar being when I went sprawling at Welllingborough station as I tried rather rashly to change carriages in icy conditions. Thankfully I remained attached to my brief case, otherwise it would have ended up under the train.
Have you ever fallen in public? I suppose one becomes inured to it in time.