My Kitchen Nightmare

Lovely to come home to a beautifully clean kitchen floor, but I stood at the edge of the floor, The Beast in my arms, quivering.

You see, aged 11 I slipped on such a wet floor as this. Moving my right arm to push myself upright, I noticed all was not as it should be, and the bloodcurdling yell of "daddy!" brought said father thundering up the stairs.

Arms aren't meant to have extra bends in the middle! and what a bend! Even one of the nurses in the operating theatre felt sick as they snapped it back into place. By that time, I had suffered about all the humiliations I could, you see, when I slipped and fell, I was getting out of the shower. There I was, naked, a young girl with short hair at a time of her life when SUPER-conscious of her changing body, and all the medical staff kept thinking I was a boy.

So wet floors fill me with fear. Justifiably so. But The Beast was hungry, so putting my fears aside, and slipping off my shoes and socks I gingerly padded across the floor to the fridge.

The other reason I needed to get to the fridge was because the wine wasn't chilled yet.....