When Things Start To Go Wrong.....

You wouldn't have thought that too much could go wrong with the burial of a pet Guinea Pig, would you?

It did for me, last night.

All was going well, and with mission accomplished I decided to hop over a smallish fence on the way home. This is where it all started to go wrong. I misjudged, and impaled my right hand on the wire. I mean seriously impaled it.

On the way down, other wire posts ripped the backside out of my jeans, and my boxer shorts.

All this hurt quite a bit, and as I tried to recover my composure something else happened - I'm not quite sure what - and there was a further sound of ripping denim from behind me. I'm pleased to report that throughout this Chaplinesque debacle the Stetson hat remained firmly in place. At least there are some things a man can rely on.

There was an alarming amount of claret pouring out of my hand at this point, and my left buttock, exposed to the world, was attracting some attention from the promenaders around the lake. Actually, to be quiet honest, the whole scene probably looked pretty f****ng weird.

If you ever get the chance to drive a 2mm diameter wire through your hand, give it a go. You will be amazed at how much blood comes out.

By morning my hand was swollen to about twice its usual size, and my middle finger appears to be somewhat paralyzed. I cleaned it up as best I could, and a bit of my hand fell off into the sink. It was about the size of a small boiled sweet, and appeared to be made up of skin and gristle. I wasn't too sure what do to about it, so I just threw it away.

Anyway, a nice fresh bandage, a Tetanus jab, and an overdose of Codeine, and all is well again. Sadly for me, I have absolutely no coordination in my left hand. But I expect that I shall soon get  the hang of typing with my right thumb, the only remaining functional digit on that hand.