One day, when hauling drinking water from the river, I had a mishap.
A wide belt of shore-ice had formed, but the river was still open and big floes of ice, as they crunched their way past, driven by the strong currant, kept breaking pieces off this shore-ice leaving it generally weak.
As I stooped over to fill one of my two buckets, the ice broke away with me, dropping me into the water. Holding onto the edge of the shore-ice to prevent myself being washed downstream – I tried to pull myself out, but failed owing to the weakness of the ice.
Shouting was no use as noone [no one] could possibly hear me.
Steading myself after the first few moments of excitement, I figured that the best way to get out
