Yesterday, myself and the Parents Eris went for a walk. Now, it should be pointed out that while we used to traipse around the woods a lot when I was younger, to the extent that my sister once fell into a snowdrift on the way to the library through the woods, modern life, and myself and Sister Eris getting older, we haven't done so for many years. However, it was a lovely October day, so we decided to give it a go. I feel I should mention that we all had to buy wellington boots. I spend all of my life in 3-4 inch heels, to the extent that I don't own a pair of trainers. So we frolicked off to Booker Garden Centre, where Mother & Father Eris both opted for the basic, green wellies. My eye, however, was caught by the lovely red ones, with a slight heel and a nice buckle at the top. Splendid.

Armed with our newly purchased boots, we drove to Burnham Beeches woods. There were loads of cars around, obviously a lot of people were in the woods that day. Most of them appeared to be walking their dogs. So off we set, sticking to the paths at first. Eventually we became a bit more daring, just wandering where we felt like. This, as it turns out, was an error. About 10 minutes in, we saw a big black dog. 'Oh look', I said brightly, 'A Grim!'. We all laughed and carried on. We came across a family, the son & dad playing with an electric car, with the mum watching. Actually, it was the dad playing with the car, with the son and mum looking rather bored. We continued on, until we reached a stream. It must be confessed that we were slightly overexcited about the fact we were wearing waterproof shoes (I have felt the pain of being in drizzle in suede heeled boots, so the novelty was wonderful). So we walked through the stream for a while. Until it became rather painfully obvious that the banks were getting higher and steeper, with us trapped at the bottom. So we scrambled up the bank, and, at this point the path just a happy memory, carried on up a hill. Father Eris was in front, he tends to have a better sense of direction than myself and Mother Eris. As we got to the top of the hill Father Eris said 'Hmmm, this bit's a bit marshy'. Indeed, our wellies were getting muddier by the second. Next moment a curse word rent the air. Father Eris was up to his knees in mud. So while Mother Eris and I, being supportive, laughed our socks off, he managed to make his way to the other side of what was rather obviously now a well disguised quagmire. Now, the next part of the story Mother Eris maintains could have been avoided. Father Eris walked along for a little bit, then tried to make his way back towards us. Mother Eris thinks that he could have carried on walking the other side of the quagmire, and we would have eventually met up. Father Eris argues that wouldn't have worked and he had to get back to us eventually. Mother Eris and I were waiting for him, when from the other side of some trees we heard him shouting for help. So we ran up there, to the sight of Father Eris trapped in mud over his boots, and completely stuck. Mother Eris, who, bless her, is fantastic and the most intelligent woman i know, but occasionally can be a little bit blonde, ran up to him and pulled at his jacket a couple of times. Father Eris says 'No, actually pull my arm'. At which point Mother Eris, looking a bit shamefaced, says 'No, I can't help, I'm stuck'. We look down, and sure enough, she has got one foot stuck in the same quagmire.

So the onus falls on our heroine. Who risks life, limb and eye, battling through a holly bush intent on doing her harm, to help Father Eris out of his desperate plight. Father Eris' foot finally gives up the battle and comes out of the boot. So now we have Father Eris braced on his hands and one foot, other foot in the air, fast sinking into the mud, and Mother Eris standing next to him, up to her knee in mud. Yours truly, after much pulling and wiggling, all the time attempting not to be molested by the Holly Bush of Doom, finally manages to get Father Eris' boot out. He gets it back on, and, using a tree trunk nearby, pulls himself out of the quagmire. Mother Eris has now lost her boot as well, so ended up with her foot resting on my boot until Father Eris got her boot out of the mud. Then, rebooted, smelly and covered in mud, our heroes return to the stream, where they wash their hands and their boots.

We had a reviving coffee in the cafe when we got back to civilisation. Luckily Father & Mother Eris saw the funny side of all this, because I couldn't stop laughing. All of us sat there giggling for about 15 minutes.

When we got back to the car, we saw that there was a Scout troop in Burnham Beeches that day. Father Eris remarked 'Thank goodness the scouts weren't around to rescue us. They would have written about it. This story could have ended up in the Bucks Free Press 'Scout Troop Saves Incompetant Family - Troop Leader Says If You Can't Identify Quagmires Then You Shouldn't Be Allowed In The Woods'' And I, being a loyal and understanding daughter, replied 'What exactly makes you think this won't end up anywhere near the Bucks Free Press?'

So, the morals of this story: When choosing wellington boots, go for the red ones with buckles. They are luckier than the green ones. But the most important lesson is this: If you are strolling in the woods and your dad says ;Hmmm, this is a bit marshy' then turn around and run in the other direction as fast as you can. Because this will probably be the understatement of the century.