The funny side of falling over

I fall over – a lot. And it’s mostly when I’m sober. At the weekend, I managed to get my own boot lace shut in my front door and went tumbling forward. It would have been funny, only for the 6 month old baby strapped to my front. Baby was fine, so it turned out funny in the end and left me with yet another bruise.

But why do I fall so much? I’m not dyspraxic (my mother-in-law is an expert and shortly after meeting me, made me perform a series of tests). I have no other disabilities that I’m aware of. I’m just clumsy.

My husband thinks differently, he says I’m careless, I fail to risk assess properly (huh?) and like life in general, I just plunge right in. It doesn’t help that my spatial awareness* is non-existent. My head thinks I’m a size 8, so when I try to squeeze my post-baby size 16 arse through a small space suitable only for posh spice – it ain’t happening.

But there is something really funny about seeing someone fall over. With this is mind I put an appeal out to friends for their falling over stories. I’m going to publish them on this blog – but one of the responses shone through so I’m posting this one first. Read it, picture it in your mind and I'm sure you'll go to bed laughing, just as I did. Read it here.

If you’ve got a funny, sad, outrageous, crazy falling over story to share, let me know – or simply add a comment.

Falling with style - a grieving wife's tuck and roll

This post is dedicated to Geoff, who would have found this story really, really amusing 

I was 21 and it was just after my Dad died. Mum and I both couldn't drive so I asked my boyfriend if he would take us both to the lake at the local park because I wanted to put some flowers under the monkey trees. When Dad was diagnosed with cancer and had a lot on his mind, that’s where he used to go and think. He had done since he was a child.

So we turn up, all three of us in my other half’s black boy-racer car, holding flowers and looking very sombre. The weather was dull and wet, but it did eventually stop raining. Not that we were worried because my Mum - as stylish as ever – looked the part in her long cream Mac. We headed for the trees on the other side of the lake.

To get there we all started walking down the grassy hill. Well, me and the boyfriend started walking.....unfortunately the newly wet grass got the better of Mum and she began to skid, rapidly picking up speed as she headed downhill. Flowers still in hand, a little lady-like screaming as she glided down the bank, the concrete path circling the lake was her final destination. She landed with a beautiful little tuck and roll. A posh lady walking her dog around the lake simply stepped over my Mum and carried on walking! Her dignity was kind-of intact, but the long cream mac? Ruined!

Dad would have been watching and I am sure wetting himself laughing, as I still am, ten years on. But sometimes I think to myself......did he push her??

Thanks to my hilarious cousin BW for this post.