I have a marked tendency to injure myself – entirely accidentally – in unusual ways. Some excerpts from my diary.
12th Sep 15
I just burned my ear making tea. Long story.
Right.. I had made tea (the meal, being too early for dinner) a couple of hours previously – korma, aloo and rice, with Naan, and jelly and ice-cream for dessert (we know how to live, us), and following a brief post-prandial sit-down, the cry went up for tea (the drink.) “Tea!”, they said, and so off I went. Filled the kettle, switched it on, and whilst delving for PG Tips and clean cups I heard a faint hissing sound. Ruling out cobras, I leant in toward the hob: one of the gas taps doesn’t quite turn off the corresponding ring, and the Caledonian in me hates to think that gas for which I’ve paid will remain uncombusted. The hiss was definitely coming from that direction.. I placed my ear toward the front offside ring – the usual offender – but it was silent. Now, I admit I didn’t entirely think through the next step.. motionless, my ear cocked like a safe-cracker, I gently turned the tap, waiting for the first, tiniest hiss..there was one, already, from elsewhere, but from this one? No.. baffling. So I turned the tap everso slightly more..and then a sound came. The slight, distant hiss was, in fact, the ring behind it, which I had absent mindedly left on after concocting tea (the meal). On very slightly, but on nonetheless – and lit. The as yet virgin gas from the burner by my ear sensed the glory, and leapt at the chance, the flames merging in joyous union with less of hiss, and more of a whoosh. The top of my left ear is now rather redder than the top of my right ear. The hair on that side even shorter. The tea was nice, though.
13th March 16
..and today, I’ve surpassed myself, having just singed my left ear whilst reading.
Last time it was on the cooker, listening for escaping gas. This time? I was sat in my v comfy armchair – behind which is a “parent & child” up lighter and reading lamp – reading some Douglas Adams on atheism and puddles (and I agree with him), when Lily the cat leapt upon the sofa arm next to the chair, and nudged me with her forehead. I turned to make a minor fuss of her and in so doing the top of my left ear brushed against the very very hot flexible halogen reading lamp, and scorched the top of my ear, just up from the previous burn site. I went oww, Lily went mew and leapt onto my shoulder, fortunately not falling off by dint of digging her claws in. In lifting her off my shoulder I then brushed my elbow against the very very hot flexible halogen reading lamp (qv) and burnt that. And spilled tea on the coffee table and my foot. Dangerous activity, reading.
15th Oct 16
(having done one of those online tests on Facebook that apparently divines your most suitable career based on your photograph, and discovering that I should be a Fireman..)
Ha! Ha ha ha ha! Ah ha ha ha!! See if you can find a less suitable job for someone slightly accident prone…FFS I BURNT MY EAR LISTENING FOR GAS!!!
26th March 16
Have to say, the new fridge freezer is rather lovely, now we’ve got all the blood off it. The blood? Mine (obvs), spilled in a skirmish with a domestic appliance. The fight was an inverse Tardis thing. You’d think that fridge freezer manufacturers would have worked out that the average doorway is a certain size, and that it would therefore be sensible to build fridge freezers a bit smaller in at least two dimensions than said doorways. But not Beko, apparently. Our delivery men were supposed to do it, but as they’re not allowed to lift things (which must hamper their, you know, delivering and so on), and the fridge is wider than the gateposts, they had to basically dump it on the pavement. Fortunately our front wall is very low so we could tilt and pivot it into the garden, strip the ton of cardboard and frankly unnecessary amount of polystyrene off it (which the delivery men should have done as well, but as they only half delivered the actual cargo they couldn’t remove the wrapping ( I’m not making this up) nor wait for us to do it as they were on a schedule. So, after grazing my fingers and knuckles trying to get a 120 kilo freezer from the front garden into the house – in the rain – we ended up with a Bernard Cribbins-ian Right Said Fred performance, taking bits off it (the hinges are sharp – cut to the arm), taking lounge door off hinges, and after less than an hour getting it the 25 feet to the kitchen (jammed finger in doorway.) Put doors back on (didn’t learn lesson re sharp hinges first time round – cut different finger.) Replaced lounge door (jammed yet another finger in door jamb.) The resident nurse was highly concerned about the blood on her new fridge (having deemed my multiple injuries as trivial) so it’s now been wiped to within an inch of its life. And it looks rather lovely.
15th May 18
Tiger Balm. A cautionary tale.
Tiger Balm. Truly a miracle lotion. Can quite literally make the afflicted dance. Owing to age, incipient Rheumatoid Arthritis and so on my shoulder and back get achy and stiff at the drop of a hat, which I’d then struggle to pick up again. Yesterday, having spent a few nights sleeping on a mattress that may as well have been Ambrosia Rice Pudding for all the support it afforded, followed by four hours of train journey in a seat ever so slightly too small and heavy case wrangling at either end, by the evening I was weary and board-like. A hot bath and some Ibuprofen, and back to my own bed should help. It did a little bit.
However, waking this morning, I was stiff and bits were hot and throbby. In a slightly different context I’d be delighted to be any or all of those, but it was my back and shoulder so instead I was miffed and uncomfortable. Time for more brufen and Tiger Balm. I scooped a generous finger-full out and rubbed it liberally into the afflicted bits, the immediate tingle and soothe hugely comforting. Did I wash my hands afterwards? No.
This is where the dancing comes in.
As I was in the bathroom, I had a pee. Almost immediately, I was aware of a certain degree of warmth in that most sensitive of areas. Heat even. Lots of heat and a distinctly amplified tingle, in fact pins and needles. Then painful pins and needles of the kind you get if you’ve slept on your arm, but with by now volcanic heat. The dancing started in earnest, accompanied by a crescendo of monkey noises, and a stunning variety of swearing. Leaping backwards and forwards, from foot to foot like Bez, I filled the basin with cold water – it takes a very very long time in these circumstances – and dangled. The cold was welcome.
It was also short-lived. If you eat a very hot curry, and then drink water, all the water does is redistribute the chili in your mouth. If you do the same in a bathroom basin, with other parts of your anatomy, the same effect occurs. The monkey noises and leaping resumed.
I know. Need yoghurt. Have we any yoghurt? No.
Milk. Yes. we have milk.
Noisily sprinting into the bright morning-sunlit kitchen I grabbed a mug, wrenched the fridge door open, half filled with milk and dangled once more (around then I realised the blinds were all open but fortunately there were no prospective buyers in next-door’s garden this time.) I wandered back into the lounge, mug held in place, and gradually normality resumed.
So remember, wash your hands, and milk works if you don’t. Also try to remember which mug it was, especially if a lot of them look roughly the same. I’ll just leave that there.
theoneandonlystuneville 