Thursday, November 28, 2002

Normal service is resumed

OK, so I got back to my average number of readers today
OK, so people I used to work with emailed today
OK, apparently the last week of pay from my old employer is in the post
OK, so I had a really good sing song to Coldplay in the car coming home
OK, so everyone emailed me to say they loved me

Well, nearly all those statements are true. Everything is, by and large, back to normal today, intriguingly complex aren’t I?

I’ve cut my finger. Not just little nick, it’s a hacking great chunk out of the top of my thumb. Apparently it’s the risk you take when you’re chopping peppers with a bread knife. The plaster slipped off whilst I was reading Hello (actually, for accuracy it was the supplement Hot Stars) on the toilet this morning, and I didn’t have time to find a replacement so I’ve had to look at it, with the bit carved out, all day. It’s not nice to look at, but Emma insists I give it some air.

It’s not the first time my hands have been subject to such torture. About three months ago I was trying to remove something jamming the draw, and felt the flesh on my finger pierce down the cold sharp edge of a carving knife blade. It was like when you cut raw chicken, only more painful. There was blood everywhere. When I was really small I managed to pick the wrong end of a sparkler up and burn my hand. The following year I did it again. When I was about ten I was pretending a glass bottle of pop was a machine gun. The pressure of the shaken 7Up got too great the top popped off it and I dropped the bottle. Instinctively I tried to catch it, but I was caught by the shards bouncing off the ground. I now have a 3cm scar in the palm of my hand. We were in France on holiday and the doctor couldn’t explain that the sugar cube he was soaked in alcohol and designed to numb the pain, so I just bit on some rope whilst he applied some magic formula. Much to my chagrin, the bloody mess in my hand had cleared up by the time I got back to school, and so I impressed nobody.


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