Fencing

IMAG1336_0The other day I made a big mistake. I took the kids out, intending to be gone for several hours, and only took one dummy with me.

We were walking along the path beside the train tracks, on a lovely day, and Evelyn had her dummy in her mouth. She dropped it. Not normally a problem. Elspeth picked it up for me. Again, not usually an issue. But then Elspeth dropped it. And it clattered away. Under a five foot high fence.

It went too far for my short arms to reach, and so I had to climb over the fence. Yes, had to. Only had the one dummy with me, remember? So, over I went. Now, the cross-bars on that wire fence are on the side of the path, giving me a few millimetres to stick my toes on. Climbing over was no worries.

But deary me, trying to get back was not quite so easy! I am not as young as I used to be. (I just said ‘deary me’, see?) I had to wedge my feet into the holes sideways, and taking weight in that position is no picnic. For a few rather horrid moments I thought I was going to be stuck on the wrong side of the fence, separated from my children and all my belongings by a few impassable centimetres. However, I made it at last. I rather fudged the landing, and jarred my legs painfully, but I made it! One dummy, successfully recovered.

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