Snow bed

I set out from Carl's mid-morning after the two sad days of Bernard's funeral. There was barely a trace of snow around Dún Laoghaire once away from the less-travelled side streets, and that's how it stayed until I got off the bus near home.

This beautifully undisturbed bed of snow was in front of a house near the bus stop across from Donnycarney church, and the footpaths along Collins Avenue were really treacherous. I wasn't the only one who was stepping along very cagily, but I made safe, though slow, progress right up until I was just a few doors from home. Some of the neighbours had cleared their driveways and the paths outside their houses and I let myself be taken in by the enticing clearance of one such patch. Not a good idea.

Before I knew it, my feet went from under me and I came doen heavily on my side. I lay there for a bit, thoroughly winded and in shock from the experience. I somehow managed to pull myself upright and make it to my own front door. It was only later on that the pain hit home and I told myself that I'd probably cracked a rib. Having heard lots of stories about people going to A & E and being send home with pain killers, not even strapped after such an experience, I didn't bother seeking medical attention. Instead I dragged myself up to bed and somehoe managed to find a reasonably comfortable position in which to get some rest.

As I write this it's now four and a half weeks later, and the pain still hasn't gone. It isn't nearly as uncomfortable as it was, but it's lingering on all the same. I couldn't help noticing during the second bout of snow that there was less clearing of paths by the neighbours, and I must say I was very glad to see that.