Post 290: Metal scrap-man causes mayhem.
Well, actually the scrap man didn’t do anything, but because I was being my usual helpful self, I overdid the assistance for him and caused untold damage…
to myself.
“Do you not want to go on holiday” was the first comment my Darling said after I sheepishly explained what I did to leave me in such pain this morning.
I was sat in my lounge chair not more than two feet away from my inquiring wife, I leaned forward to explain why I could hardly walk or talk this morning but instead of explaining what had happened, I sobbed quietly, knowing full well that I had possibly scuppered the holiday single-handedly.
In fact that was also the first thing that went through my mind after rolling backwards onto the damp patio looking up at the overcast sky and hearing nothing but the sparrows laughing at me.
I had been trying to open the stuck side door of the conservatory, which was normally stuck fast. The reason it was unable to be opened was because the lower vertical security bolt hangs and the door won’t open without a lever, like a big flat screwdriver, lifting the mechanism and door up so that, with a hearty pull on the door handle outwards (when you’re outside), it frees up and opens. But today everything was slippery and as it gave way I lost grip of the handle and because I was crouching down on the cold wet slabs, I totally lost control and fell backwards in a rolling tuck, and my right-side ribs met the ground with a bang then a rolling, crunching sound, like the first bite of a sneaky bowl of crunchy nut cornflakes in the quiet of the kitchen.
So I looked up, the sparrows laughing their mischievous chattering squawks and I just thought of an X-ray machine and a really big telling off.
Neither happened all day.
But I was down, splayed on the floor and my Darling, who was still sleeping not more than 14 feet away up in bed, was unable to hear my embarrassed whimpering of help because of Alexa’s “thunder storm sounds” being played loudly on the smart speaker in her bedroom.
Now I was stuck!
I can barely get off the ground on a good day and this wasn’t one of them obviously. I squirmed about and rolled on my good left side, better left side, it’s hardly good to be honest, and with enormous effort and pain I got on my knees. Not to pray — although that would have been a good idea — but to get my bearings and grab hold of a stack of chairs nearby and hoist myself up.
I had no idea if I had broken anything but the back of my head was pounding, again.
It was only a month ago I was in A&E with checks on my head and tail after doing a back flip off a chair in the kitchen.
Anyway, I couldn’t reach to feel my ribs and guessed I was ok, I needed to get back to the safety of the kitchen.
As I headed in I noticed the bloody stuck door was still stuck would you believe. Christ almighty, all that trouble and mischief for nothing. Well, it can stay like it because I needed to check on myself in case I needed a trip to the hospital. Bugger hell!
By the time I’d got inside with the cat trying it on for a second breakfast, I felt a bit sick so I casually took the bowl out of the sink and leant over into it and counted the holes in the strainer down the plug hole — like you do. But after about five minutes I was ok and feeling hungry.
Food first and last.
I had a small bowl of crunchy-nuts and put on my runners, yes, I was outside yanking that door with slippery slippers which might have been the wrong footwear for an un-sticking ceremony, besides, I shouldn’t have even contemplated it.
I now thought it best if I’m to minimise the impact of telling my Darling what kind of a twat I’ve been, I would do my half-hour on the treadmill. That’ll be a good idea.
Well, it wasn’t a bad one as it happens because I walked the 1.3 miles without any issues.
My legs were fine, shame about my spare ribs!
This is where my Darling appeared and saw me struggling with my stiff back after I had been sitting in the kitchen a while wondering if I need a trip to A&E. The trouble was that my back had really locked up and as I shimmied down the hall and sat in the lounge chair gingerly, with lots of oohs and aahs she sat down beside me and asked what had happened. I told her and then she said those famous words…
“Do you not want to go on holiday!”
———
I’ve been in terrible pain but taking my extra morphine, of course. All my existing pains added to today’s, I’m not very comfy.
It’s my own fault and I am feeling stupid about it.
But a phone call told me that my glasses are ready already. That was only a week. Brill.
The taxi is now booked for the trip up and back to Gatport Airwick. Fantastic.
So the only job to do is to fill the suitcases and count the days down to the morning of the 18th. Whoop whoop!
Sadly, the coffee brew-house trip is off for today. I can’t imagine sitting in a car for 30 minutes over untold numbers of potholes. No way!
But the scrap-man has been and cleared a bit of stuff, and that’s made a bit more room in the conservatory, sheds and garden.
Later on, while my Darling wasn’t looking, I tugged at the stuck conservatory door and freed it up — don’t tell my Darling!
Let’s hope I sleep well. I don’t deserve to, but I’ll be good tomorrow, I promise.
Lesson of the day for me is to try and let others do work I shouldn’t be doing or even thinking about doing.
Naughty, stupid Mr U.
Good night.
