To be fair, it’s not really Penarth’s fault. The stupid rented house has stupid evil decking in the back garden, and the decking hates me. It may even be trying to kill me.
The decking is a Bad Thing for two reasons: firstly, we suspect that it’s slug central, and that the slimy little beggars are hiding out underneath it, using it as a base for their ongoing campaign against our kitchen. It is their Western Front, their gastropodian Maginot Line, and for that reason we were already biased against it. The second thing, however, is that it seems to be permanently covered in a thin film of rainwater, whatever the weather, so that any kind of hasty step means you end up practically aquaplaning on it.* For the last four weeks we have been tiptoeing around it – literally and figuratively – reminding each other that it’s slippery/dangerous/treacherous/like an ice-rink and so on. Today, it got me. I was innocently standing by the back door, not even moving, and suddenly I realised the world was tilting sideways at a worrying rate. I landed with a squelchy sort of thud, and now I have the beginnings of some exciting bruises and a decking print all the way up the side of my favourite skirt, not to mention a bruised ego.
The new house (which is clearly a Good Thing) has a sensible stone patio: the move can’t come soon enough…
*It could, of course, be that the slugs are deliberately coating it with slime overnight as part of their campaign. I wouldn’t put it past them.