First day in a new building I got my boob caught in the filing cupboard 'ouch!' and ended up being the first entry in the works accident book.
Since I worked in a dangerous place I was always being reminded of it every time somebody else had to use it.

When I was a teenager my new boyfriend took me to the seaside in his car (*ROCK!*). I was 17, raised in Essex and thus felt really impressed by this day out in a shiny Astra GTE so made a lot of effort with hair and make up etc.

We made a nice looking couple, strolling along the sea wall getting appreciative nods from the locals......then he spotted a nice place to sit at the top of a grassy embankment so asked me if I could manage the slope.

No problem laughs I.

Up he bounded gazelle-like and I followed at a pace smiling and letting the sea breeze whip at my hair...........

Then I slipped on some mud.

No problem you might think. Hand down, a little push back up and carry on frolicking forward like an elegant impala.

Ah. But my hands were firmly wedged in my coat pockets. They were tight pockets. So new boyfriend and seemingly the entire population of Wells-Next-The-Sea watched in puzzlement and confusion as, hands flailing in said pockets, elbows hammering up and down in a frantic attempt to save myself I keeled over like a felled oak tree to land face first in the mud.........and then slid slowly back down said slope in the prone position picking up grass with my front teeth as I went.

I was later told by an old lady who gave me a tissue to wipe my face with that I'd looked a bit like a cat in a sack being thrown in a lake. I thought for an OAP she had a surprisingly good way with analogy.

Ah dignity, it's not until you don't have it that you understand just how much it means to you.