It was quite a good day, until I slipped over on the drain cover in the garden on the way to the garage.
I'd got the washing out to dry on the line in the sporadic sunshine.
I'd walked up the road to take some packs of Valentine cards for posting to customers. Not only that, but as it was such a pleasant morning, instead of returning home with an empty rucksack, I continued down to the local supermarket on the docks, and found some lovely plants in the "reduced for quick sale" section, which simply need a little tlc to restore them to full vitality. Bizarrely one was soggy and some plants were rotting, whereas the other was bone dry!
Enthused with gardening fervour, I then dead-headed some plants in the bed against the side fence, and got out the pruning shears to remove an intrusive brance from a lovely willow tree with golden branches.
I made a simple salad for lunch to accompany some left over pasta with broccoli and carrot in lime juice and olive oil that I'd eaten for supper the night before.
As I said, the day was going well.
I read over a hundred pages of a book on Victorian life and literature, one of my modules at uni, and still all was going well.
Then, I remembered.
A card had been slipped through the letterbox on Friday, assuring me that someone would be along to read the fuel meters on Saturday between 8 and 12. I waited in, but nobody appeared.
So I decided to do my duty and go and read the meters myself and enter them on-line, like the good little consumer I am. That's when the day ceased to be a good one.
I took the garage key from the basket, and the keys to the outside conservatory door. So far, so good. The doors opened without any problems. I'd remembered to take the little card and a pen with me, and even a torch to help me see - I was sooooo prepared for my little venture.
Four steps later I was flying through the air, deciding in less time than it takes to think it how I should try to land to minimise the damage to myself - as there are all sorts of bricks, stones and granite sets piled up out there on which to damage oneself!!!!
I opted for landing on my bottom - it's well padded - but somehow my left hand managed to insert itself into the equation. So I sat for about five minutes unable to restore myself to a standing position - the pain was ridiculous!
I finally managed to pull myself up with the aid of my right hand, gathered together the now torn reading sheet and other bits and pieces, and carried on with my simple mission.
I suspected I may have broken my elbow and my wrist, as neither would bend properly, but persuaded myself that it was only shock and bruising. I decided to wait and see, and dosed myself with some paracetamol and strong coffee.
I went and did some more reading, and gradually the elbow eased up, though still swollen. My wrist, however, I became quite certain was broken.
So, when David came over that evening, I told him of my adventures and he was all for taking me straight to the Emergency department. I, being practical, decided to have a bath first, as bathing with a plaster cast on is not an enjoyable activity.
Anyway, at just before midnight I finally arrived back home. I was right, I'd broken my wrist, which is now strapped up. The good news is, that instead of a plaster cast I have a mesh, metal and velcro strapping on, which can be removed for washing etc, which is so much better than the plaster cast I had wrapped round my wrist last time I broke it:)
Well, technically, I didn't break it, it was another car driver, but that's another story!