Wednesday, June 10, 2009


It isn't the first time. Years ago I ended up having to take dad to casualty on Father's Day because he severed his finger on a broken glass taking the bin out.
Tonight I noticed our black binbag was full, so took it out and up the path. It was so heavy I couldn't hold it out so it banged and scraped off my leg all the way up the garden path. Walking back towards the house my leg was nipping a little, but I was alerted to something being amiss when both Lots and Pudge were standing open-mouthed staring at me, pointing. Why are you bleeding so much? they asked in unison. I sat on the outdoor toy box and sent them in for kitchen roll. Under a rather bloody mess I finally found a gash about 2cm long and quite deep. I quickly checked my silk skirt to make sure only my skin had been pierced and not my clothes - Phew!
Thomas was called out from his office to clean and dress it, then I was sent in for a coffee and a chocolate biscuit. Thomas took over cooking dinner while I sat nipping on the couch. I'd really like a bath now, but that doesn't really look very feasible :-(
Question is - which silly bugger put the dagger shaped broken glass in the binbag anyway, and what would have happened if I'd slung the binbag over my shoulder!?

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