Ah, yes, the old ankle.
I have fond memories from when I was 22yo, studying at the Foreign University in Perugia, Italy, circa 1983.
One day, when a group of us were walking back to class, after a morning sunbathing beside Lake Trasimene, (yes, same site as the famous ancient battle where the Carthigian Hannibal absolutely thrashed the Roman General Gaius Flaminius, but I digress).
Anyway, I'd been sculling out of a whisky bottle, like most European students do at that age, and climbed up onto a brick fence to watch a brilliant view.
One of my colleagues, a beautiful German girl, asked if I could help her up onto the brick fence so she too could look at the view. I acquiesced.
Unfortunately as I bent over to lift her up, I was overtaken by the magnificent view of her cleavage.
Also affected by the whisky, instead of pulling her up, she pulled me down, I landed on my ankle, tore the ligaments around it, and spend in the next 5 weeks in plaster on crutches.
I still get pain in the same ankle, nowadays, whenever the weather changes.
Damned near ruined a cricketing tour of England that I was due to begin 4 weeks after. But that's another story.
