Toiling at the nursery, I was surprised by a rat jumping out from behind a sheet of plastic I was heaving at, and I leaped backwards, only to trip over a piece of farm machinary and land face downwards in the mire.

I hadn’t felt any pain but somehow my shin had connected with something sharp and was exposed to the bone, looking a bit like the flapping open end of a dead chicken. There wasn’t much blood, but I thought it might come gushing out any moment, so I clamped the two inch long flaps shut with my manure encrusted hands and hopped off to seek first aid.

Now I’m laid up, with all and sundry peering at my wound and wondering when it’s going to become infected. For my part, the pain and inconvenience make me glad it wasn’t worse. I mean, the way that machinery looked, if I’d fallen slightly differently, my leg could have been snapped like a Twiglet.