It was a pub session and we had finished playing. I was sitting with my hammer dulcimer on my lap (supported on it's single screw-in leg) when an elderly gentleman who had been standing at the bar beside me most of the evening collapsed onto the dulcimer, wrenching out the dulcimer-leg screw-housing, and scattering half-inch delrin bridge rods far and wide.

Being a typical english pub, the carpet was of a busy red/black/white pattern, expressly designed to camouflage small items of debris. Everyone was so concerned to find the lost delrin that most of the clientelle spent the next ten minutes or so on hands and knees searching for the lost pieces.

It was not until the delrin rods were recovered that anyone paid any attention to the gentleman who had fallen. He was sitting beside me looking as bemused as I felt ... I had assumed that he had had a glass too many - but not so. His wooden leg had collapsed.

So now there were two of us with a dodgy wooden leg to fix.