I’ve got form. We wandered into a crowded bar in Krakow, and set off down the stairs to the cellar to find seats. It became apparent that we were entering a very serious jazz club, dark and atmospheric, full of cool dudes nodding away intently to a live band on the small stage. We tried to be unobtrusive, and were until I missed the bottom steps in the gloom, and clattered down, staggering about a bit like a drunken sailor trying to keep my balance and slopping beer everywhere. The music stopped and all eyes were immediately upon us.
In Rome we got on a crowded tourist bus and sat on the base of the hydraulic middle doors. I didn’t realise this till the doors opened at the nest stop, I was crushed slowly against DH then squeezed out like a cork in a bottle, flying into the middle of the bus aisle and landing on my hands and knees. I was mortified, but couldn’t stop laughing when DH tried to reassure me that nobody’d noticed. Bless him, he’s not a convincing liar.
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I was there when my friend, aged around seventy at the time, sat on a chair in the garden of the hotel where we were lunching. Unfortunately, the garden sloped and my friend flew backwards, legs in the air, underwear on full display. 
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