So: when I got up yesterday to take the dog to Morning Prayer there had been no snow overnight and it wasn’t snowing when I set off. It had begun to snow a little by the time I got back and at about 9am I made the more-or-less-sensible-at-the-time decision to go on my motorbike to take an HC service at East. (Should add: we have no car at the moment, as it failed the MOT.) Which went well – we had 14 people there which was pretty good and it was an enjoyable and happy service.

Of course, whilst inside it had been snowing rather heavily….

So on the way back I was very cautious – actually the worst thing was the fogging inside the helmet – and the roads were fine, albeit rather wet.

However, when I got to the very last fifty yards I realise that the road we live on is covered in fresh snow overlaid on mush – so I go cautiously, slow down using gears, come right up to my own gate and… splat, over I go, trapping and twisting my right ankle beneath the bike.

Ouch. Cue anguished cries as I lie on the floor for a minute or two…

Anyhow, manage to wrestle bike up off me and push it into drive; beloved comes out and puts it in garage and I spend the rest of the day being well looked after (and had time to read the third of the complete Inspector Morse books that I’ve been given for Christmas).

This morning – long hot soak in bath, with massaging of ankle, things are very flexible albeit still painful.

But the bike? Haven’t dared look yet. I think that the right foot rest is bent inwards a bit; what I’m most worried about is whether the handlebars need to be reset.

Oops.

Still, should be alright for the weekend. My dominant feeling – after kicking myself (not literally, obviously) all through yesterday is how grateful I am that it wasn’t so much worse. Thanks be to God.