The clinic let me out to tell this tale which Den's post reminds me:
Some years ago I went with wife & in-laws to a rugby match in Paris. We ,England, lost but we consoled ourselves with a good meal in a tiny backstreet restaurant. When we rose (with difficulty) to leave, the table groaning with empty bottles, I volunteered to get the coats. I opened the cupboard door where I had seen them hung and stepepd to space in...it was the top of the steep steps down to the cellar!
[and very close to Montmatre Cemetary!]

Fortunately a Frenchman, hoarse from shouting at the match, with whom we had been having a bilingual (+sign language) discussion during the meal, realised what was about to happen, grabbed my arm and dragged me back from the brink. A great shout went up from the regulars and my family were puzzled as I joined them on the pavement outside, still shaking!
My whole life had flashed before me- and very boring it was too, I resolved to get out more!
Well if the horses at Ascot do their stuff tomorrow, the next round will be on me.
tara a bit.