IT was only when I was sent to the hospital physiotherapy department for a pair of crutches that I realised the situation was possibly more serious than I thought.

"I'm only here with a broken toe, I won't need those," I said, but the medics were having none of it.

"You may think you don't need them now but wait till you've had the operation," they replied.

I should have put my shoes back on and hotfooted it there and then.

True, the toe was broken but after all, a toe is but a toe, an insignificant little piece of bone and gristle - not a foot, not a leg. Now there we are talking crutches material.

What I didn't appreciate is there's

no such thing as a minor op. Oh,

yes, you can be in and out of the operating theatre in half an hour but

you may also be bearing the scars

of battle for the next month or even longer.

Which brings me to my present physical state - confined indoors for two to three weeks, thumping around on a pair of crutches, broken toe held together with wire and entire left foot bandaged to triple its normal size.

Very comical. Not for me but for those who know me. A word of advice. If you're looking for sympathy and expressions of concern, don't break a toe. Make it a leg at the very least.

If I hear another quip about "toeing the line", "getting a toehold" and being "kept on my toes", I shall go toe-tally berserk. See, they've got me at it now!

But it's the crutches which have people howling.

The friend who came to collect me at the hospital found the sight of me on them hilarious - and obviously didn't believe I needed them.

"But it's only a broken toe - and not even your big toe at that," he said. "If you break a finger, I suppose it's a stretcher case!"

What most able-bodied people don't realise (I certainly didn't) is that a special skill is required to manoeuvre yourself around on crutches. I was given a session of crutch control before I left the hospital. It should make an entertaining party piece.

Always move the crutches forward first, followed by the affected leg; when going upstairs, the unaffected leg goes first, with the crutches being followed by the affected leg. . . or is it the other way round?

Well, I haven't toppled over yet so I must be doing something right.

Sitting down is best. Position self in front of chair ready to sit. Remove both arms from crutches and - whoa! Look Ma, no hands!

Are there any other disadvantages to my current situation? Well, yes, quite a few actually.

For instance, what do you do with a heavily bandaged foot when you have a bath? I've been following a nurse's suggestion and wrapping it up in a plastic bag. She may have been joking but it's quite effective, though hardly elegant.

Also, how do you dress when you can't get one heavily bandaged foot into either tights, socks or shoes? Answer. You don't. You slob around in a dressing gown and one slipper.

And what can you do when your foot itches underneath the bandages and you cannot possibly scratch it? I haven't found the answer to that one - yet.

One thing's for sure. I certainly won't be auditioning for Riverdance this Christmas.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.