I work as a receptionist at a large doctor's surgery and it's a great job. A couple of years ago we relocated the whole set up to a new, purpose built facility, and this was lots of hard work, but ultimately very worthwhile because our old building was very old and on the small side. The new facility came with new opening hours so our team had a need to work until 20:00 throughout the week. This isn't as bad as it sounds because there's a few of us so I only have to do this once a week. My late shift was (and still is) a Wednesday. I want to tell the story of something ridiculous and frankly unbelievable that occurred to me on my first ever Wednesday late shift.
I'm ashamed to admit that back then I was a smoker (I have since successfully kicked the habit) so at about 19:45 on that first night, I popped out the back for a cigarette. This was acceptable and permitted, and actually, on this night, staff and patients were very thin on the ground, I felt like I was pretty much on my own, why not go for a smoke! There was a small veranda to stand on, overlooking an area that was due to be landscaped. I say due to be, because at the time it was a huge churned up sea of mud from all the building work. Anyway, I finished my cigarette and turned to re-enter the building. And I couldn't. The door had closed itself, and could only be reopened from the inside. I banged loudly on it, but as I said, there was hardly anyone about, and nobody heard me! The realisation came that I was going to have to walk around to the front of the building to get back in. Obviously this would ordinarily be a non-issue, but I was basically trapped on a little veranda by the aforementioned sea of mud....!
Being at work, I wasn't wearing suitable shoes for "off roading" but there wasn't an awful lot I could do about it, I couldn't really stay there all night! In fact, my shoes were tiny little slip-on ballet pumps. Black, with a sparkly little motif on the front. I always wear this kind of shoe for work because when at a desk I can easily slip them off and just be in my socks, it's just something I do. I considered taking my shoes and socks off and walking across the mud barefoot, but I couldn't bear the idea. Then I thought about taking just my shoes off, and going into the mud in my socks. I mean, it'd be a bit of protection for my feet and I could just rinse my socks off in one of the muddy puddles and drive home without shoes? I thought about this for a little while but just couldn't bring myself to step into the thick, gooey looking mud with just socks on my feet. Plus, and I know this is odd, I was wearing a really stunning pair of black and red Christmas socks and didn't want to get them covered in mud! I decided to get into the mud as I was, try to avoid the really squelchy bits and generally hope for the best. I was pretty sure I could clean my shoes up afterwards if I walked very carefully and didn't get very muddy. As I stood there, contemplating lowering myself off the veranda and crossing the mud, I felt weirdly excited. I realise this is odd, but we're always told "not to get dirty" and I remembered being in trouble as a child for getting my clothes messy. Here I was, about to step into the mud in my nice work outfit because I had to. It felt quite rebellious! I might as well enjoy the moment! I mean, I was really nervous about getting my clothes dirty, but there was a definite buzz of excitement in my belly...
I slowly lowered my left foot off the veranda. I watched as my shoe come into contact with the soft mud and it didn't stop descending until I was ankle deep. It was like watching somebody else sink in mud. I couldn't quite believe I was doing this, all smartly dressed, at work! I stepped in with my right foot. The mud had come right up and over the sides of my tiny shoes. I could feel it squelching all over the large exposed parts of my socks. It's cold sliminess felt awful as it seeped into my shoes! I reckon I had about fifty feet to cover across the muddy area to get to the safety of a concrete path. I started to walk. Each squelchy step had to be completed in a very deliberate manner because the thick mud was trying to suck my shoes off! It really was a battle just to keep them on! At one point, my left shoe stayed put when I took a step, my foot came right out of it, and I only just managed to not put my sock down into the mud! I giggled as I stood there wobbling, waving my Christmas sock around in mid air! I quickly had to accept that I was going to get more than just dirty shoes. The visible, exposed parts of my socks were getting massively covered in mud. They were sliding in and out of the gunge with each step and getting a liberal coating of brown slop, such was the lack of protection offered by the tiny ballet pumps! Nevertheless, I thought if I was careful I'd just get muddy shoes and socks, nothing more. I had a shock after ten or so careful, squelchy paces. The mud suddenly became a good deal more unpredictable and before I could do anything about it, I was sinking in much deeper, right up to my knees! Bang goes my trousers I thought as I felt thick mud enveloping my legs and totally soaking my clothing. I can still remember the loud burping noise it made as I plunged in! It was so thick and deep that I genuinely struggled to move my feet. Every time I tried to pull a foot out the suction was just too great. All that was happening was my feet were coming out of my shoes. They were stuck fast! I was going to have to abandon a very good pair of work shoes and escape in my socks! I really should have taken my shoes off first and just committed my socks to the mud because that's where we'd ended up! I couldn't help having a little laugh to myself about the slapstick situation I had got myself into. It would be wrong to describe getting covered in mud in my work outfit as "fun" but I wasn't hating it either. There was something a little bit rebellious and actually quite nice about it. I reluctantly slid my feet out of my stuck ballet pumps and immediately felt bad about the effect this was going to have on the amazing black and red Christmas socks I was wearing! They were already quite muddy, but the toe and heel parts were picked out in an amazing bright red colour and this splash of vibrancy had been protected by my shoes so far. I half winced and half giggled as I took my first step without a shoe. I watched the red tip of my black sock disappear into the thick, brown gunge. Then I pulled my other foot out of it's stuck shoe and sank it into the mud. I stood there, knee deep in my socks and laughed out loud. I actually enjoyed the liberation of not having to try to keep shoes on. The thick, smooth mud felt quite nice through my thin socks! I squelched through the mud, finding it much, much easier without shoes on, right up until the point if went even deeper and I sank in to thigh depth!
I was starting to worry about actually getting stuck now, imagining the embarrassment of needing the fire brigade to pull me out! At least if I could extract myself I could just quietly go home and get cleaned up and nobody would need to know about my mud bath! So I wriggled my legs and feet around and managed to withdraw them, then I decided to go onto all fours and crawl across the remainder of the mud, to spread the weight (I am only 8.5 stone too!) And I made it out. But the cost was high! I had no shoes, and the majority of my outfit was covered in slimy golden brown slop! I scraped off what I could to hurriedly clean myself up and put a massive plastic bag on my car seat to drive home. I found driving in slimy socks quite strange too!
I smile to myself to this day about this most amazing of experiences. I think I'd have died of embarrassment if I'd been "caught" in the mud, I am eternally grateful that I got away with this one and nobody's any the wiser! But at risk of sounding mad, I'm glad it happened because it was quite fun in a daft kind of way! It's a lovely grassed area now, with trees and flowers. I often think about my poor shoes buried under there!
Oh, and amazingly, my Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer socks lived to fight another day!