Mrs T and Nige were on the other side of the window supping tea and gently shaking their heads when it happened, in fact they were still supping tea and gently shaking their heads ten minutes after it happened. I think they believed I was mimicking a Premiership footballer but, in fact, I was in agony, wailing louder than the ambulance that 'eventually' came to pick me up. 

Mrs T and Nige were STILL supping tea and gently shaking their heads, but now, I fancied, they were giggling a bit, too. The next day, leg all plastered and weighing so much that it affected my steering of the ex-MOD wheelchair that great uncle Jeremy used when he was still alive... khaki. 

Anyhow, no, but, I did draw the line when Nige wanted to use my stiffly plastered leg as a support for his saw bench. Where was I? Oh yes, the next day, when I'd phoned the Council to find out to whom I had to address my letter for compensation, they said it wasn't their responsibility... snow and ice was an act of God and the person to sue was he who had interfered with the footpath in the first place. Interfered with, I mean, I was being public spirited. Anyhow, it turns out the only person I could sue was me! 

In fact Mrs T said that she was considering suing me, on behalf of the company, for 'interfering' with the availability for work of a member of the company's staff... again, me. 

So, the upshot is I am wheelchair bound, I've even got one of those special tickets that has me down as 'disabled' and allows me to park right in front of the NEC exhibition halls, so it's not all bad news - I did offer to write up a report on how wheelchair accessible all of the halls and stands were but I didn't push it when the editor answered with just one word - 'why?'  

You will be pleased to hear that I'm getting my own back on my mirthful, unhelpful audience of the time - Nige and Mrs T - because Nige has to push me around the exhibition on the first day and Mrs T has the job on the second. In fact, thinking about it, I don't think any of you have ever met Mrs T. She doesn't do industry events, not like what I do, so look out for a khaki camouflaged wheelchair, which, I hope, at the time will have at least one sponsor's brand-name on it, so I'll stand out like Jenson Button in a Tesco car park. 

Now, back to that phone, I wonder which of the companies that I sell the odd oven to I can 'hit' for sponsorship... I'll start with an Italian. They may supply me with a beautiful bevy of 'pushers' in tightly branded T-shirts, so, with a bit of luck, you might not get to meet Mrs T after all!