It had been Andrea's birthday recently and some of her girlfriends had arranged to take her out for lunch. They'd booked a table at a really nice gastropub, and Andrea had just returned from what had been a very enjoyable meal. Being quite an upmarket establishment, she'd dressed quite smartly in a brand-new faux leather jumpsuit, with her favourite (and expensive) Timberland over-the-knee leather and suede boots, plus a pair of black leather gloves. Having parked her pickup at the house, she walked through the farmyard and checked the stables; her usual routine. It was then that she noticed a hosepipe that was spraying water across the roadway to the lower yard. Who had left that turned on, she wondered?

Reaching to switch-off the hose, the fanned spray of water splashed lightly across the front of her jumpsuit. It beaded and glistened and trickled down onto the leather tops of the feet of her boots. It looked great and it felt great. But this jumpsuit was brand-new and the boots were expensive. She couldn't get completely soaked in them. She simply shouldn't. Clearly, that would be a bridge too far

But then a little voice in her head said "just walk through the spray a couple of times," and then it said "just turn around in the spray to make sure it wets the back of the jumpsuit as much as the front," and finally it said "now just undo some of the buttons on the front so that some of the spray finds its way inside the suit."

With wet breasts, trickles down her thighs inside the suit and wet ankles inside her boots, she realised she was now committed to a bridge too far. So, before any other voice in her head could talk her out of it, she strode across the field to the new pond. She walked down the jetty and sat at the top of the ladder with her boots on the top step which was half an inch under the surface of the water. After enjoying the sunshine for a few moments, she moved her feet to the next step down and waited to see if the boots leaked. They did not. So, she stood up, turned around and stepped down another rung. The boot tops were only an inch above the water's surface but there was still no ingress; the anticipation was overwhelming. There was only one thing to do: she climbed back up the ladder, ran along the wooden jetty and took a huge leap into the cold water. It quickly found its way all throughout the inside of her jumpsuit and down to her toes in her over-the-knee boots; it was cold and invigorating and felt absolutely fantastic.

She swam around in the water, and repeatedly jumped-in off the jetty, until she was really cold and starting to shiver. It was time for another very long and very hot shower.

As she walked, dripping, back to the farmhouse she hoped that her favourite boots wouldn't be damaged by their dunking. And at that moment the same little voice in her head said "perhaps this wasn't a bridge too far, perhaps it was a bridge just far enough... " and she smiled to herself in full agreement.