It was a beautiful day for a hike, so I set out early at 8am sharp. I headed back to Ely, trekked some of the trails in Plymouth Great Wood, cut through the park in St Fagans, passed through Western Cemetery, then over to the iron-age hillfort in Caerau. All was going to plan — until, that is, it wasn’t. While taking some snapshots at the hillfort, I fell and sprained my ankle.

I’ve no idea what happened – I was taking my time, walking along, and then I was flat on my face. I remember hearing a squeaking sound, the kind of sound a gym shoe makes on a squash court (so I either slipped on a root or a rock, or I killed something cute and fluffy).

So there I was , stuck in the middle of field with nothing to help me up. Great. And I somehow had to get back down a very steep hill. Brilliant. And then I had to get home. Jolly-well fantastic.

After, looking up at the sky for an hour, I managed to get to my feet. I couldn’t put weight on my over-turned ankle, so the trip back down took an age. With the aid of my trusty hiking pole, I finally got to a bus stop.

At least I got what I wanted to get — a clearer picture of the woodland trails and the layout of the roads in the cemetery (all in the name of improving Open Street Map). I also now have the perfect excuse for buying a new pair of trail boots.

Although the sprain is quite bad, nothing seems to be broken — the swelling is fairly minor, and I’m not in a great deal of pain. I won’t be strolling about for a while, but I’m hoping that the ‘while’ is a short one.