I've re-discovered why it's not a good idea to wear Dr. Marten's in the winter. Turns out their bouncy sole becomes a useless hunk of might as well be glass when things get a wee bit chilly. I managed to have a complete wipe out yesterday. Not only did I land flat out on my back, but it was one of the spectacular, comic-inspiring ones where you manage to see your feet fly up in front of you before you become re-acquainted with the ground. It's really a good thing I'm fluffy, or I'm sure I'd have broken a hip. Never been so glad to have built in impact absorbing panels before.
Once I finished flying around I had to take a moment to assess, well, the sky. I lay in the street long enough that my inventory of body parts was interrupted by Chet's snout in my line of vision. You know it's bad when a husky's concerned about what you're doing. So far, a day later, I've got some tender ribs and one sore, sore hip. And a pair of traction aids installed on the boots. Don't care to repeat that action until I'm on either a ski hill or a rink.