I spent the night on Tim's sofa last weekend. In the morning as I was folding up the duvet, it knocked over a wine glass which smashed on top of his toolbox. I cleared up the mess but failed to realise that my shoes were just next to the toolbox. A few minutes after putting on my shoes, the first shards of glass started working their way into my foot. Aaaaarrgh!

Once I'd sorted all that out, he gave me a lift into work on his scooter. On the way up the stairs, carrying a coffee pot, I somehow strained a muscle in my back and had to hobble up the next two flights. Almost immediately, another piece of broken glass, which had been hiding in the corner of my shoe all this time, popped out and stuck into my foot, rendering me barely able to walk.