If the shoe fits…

I've had a fall and have gone in the fetlock.

If I were a horse, they'd have me put down.

Even more alarming was the discovery that I couldn't fit into any of my (sob) shoes.

Now normally, this wouldn't faze me. I work at home, in dacks of track, and shoes are an optional extra.

But May and Mother's Day bring invitations that require more than the usual gussying up.

This year it was an address to my favourite mums from St Ambrose's School at the trendy Iceworks Restaurant in Paddington. Dead sexy heels or glamorous boots were de rigueur for the occasion.

Unfortunately, my fankle and the purple blow-up foot at the end of it, just couldn't handle the stress of heels.

I could walk, or at least hobble, but the only shoe I could squeeze into were my birkencrocs.

Now, I do love my Birkis – I have three pairs and sent my Mum some for Mother's Day to her great delight – but they're not what I reach for when I want to frock up.

Amongst more than a hundred lovely ladies sashaying around in edgy boots, teetering platforms, peep toes and stilettos, I stood out like the proverbial, with an elephantine ankle, bandaged and stuffed into a nana croc.

Looking down at my great swelling cankle, the compression bandage showing through my stockings, I had a vision of my future. I could hear the wise words of a dear friend's 101-year-old grandmother: 'Look after your feet, dear. They have to hold you up for a very long time.'

So it is with great sadness that I bid adieu to my budding indoor netball career. It's been fun girls, but now I have to bow out.

In one of life's touching ironies, my little guy gave me a glass slipper for Mother's Day that gives me hope.