Well, the finger is now back in a cast, hand sculpted by Jen, and a magnificent construct it is too! Over the course of the next fortnight the cast will be taken off and replaced twice, and at the end of it my finger will be a straight as it's ever likely to be.
With the help of trusty old friend Nurofen, my back pain is more bearable today. Only two knee buckling spasms on the way to the hospital, instead of one evey 50 yards as was the case yesterday. Whilst hobbling along with a peculiar gait the thought occurs to me that what I could really do with is a walking stick. I've got one of those carbon fibre hill walking jobbies at home, but as it ends in a blunt spike it is rather impractical around the house, as it would leave carpets full of holes. B would not be pleased. No, I need a real "old geezer's" walking stick with a rubber wassname on the end.
After the hospital appointment I limp into town, pondering where does one buy a walking stick? First off I tried Millets the camping equipment shop, as I know I've seen sticks in there before. A trusty pole carved from Appalachian pine might be just the thing. Millets is shut for refurbishment until April. Next up a wander through the market. A long shot I know, and if I had wanted a handbag or some luggage, or my mobile unlocked, or some fruit & veg, I'd have had no problem. Hmmmm... I know! Old peoples clothes shop M&S; they must sell walking sticks surely? Not as far as I could see, and I wasn't about to ask, it's bad enough admitting to myself that I need the bloody thing in the first place. Last chance was old people's cheaper clothes shop BHS. Nope. So I hobbled back to the office, by now in some discomfort, and I now sit here typing this self-pitying nonsense.
If anyone has any sensible suggestions, or indeed silly ones, do tell.....
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