not nice ice

in the end i guess my nicotine habit will kill me... perhaps...
in a previously unimagined manner!

so last night...there i was, smoking my last cigarette of the day. the night was pitch black and freezing cold. but...i am a considerate smoker, i always smoke outside, sharing the pollution of my dreadful habit only with mother nature.

i knew about the ice!
between the cottage and the retaining stone wall there is a large concrete slab...stops the mud from actually taking over the house. all winter long water seeps from the hillside behind the house, through the stone wall and then dribbles out over the concrete.
sometimes it freezes. last night...guess i lost concentration. my legs started to slide apart, as if i was doing the splits. i have never been able to do the splits ... there is always a first time...
the pain, omg... then a dreadful cracking sound from both my knees and then i was on my (fortunately fairly rotund) arse. i screamed...nobody heard, the kids were already asleep and stone houses are amazingly soundproof.
my first thought was...

"omg you idiot $%&^* what the $%^&* have you done now!"

i'm not really that good in emergencies, if you have one...you should probably call someone else.

i managed to scrabble up into an ape like, semi crouching position. hmmm...everything seemed to be working, i straightened up, not too bad, i could walk...aaahhh...adrenaline!

two hours later...my knees were sharing with me how it would feel to be one hundred years old. i swallowed an ibuprofen, arranged myself very carefully in the bed and off to the land of nod, to dream....or not, as the case maybe.

I awoke this morning with sincere regrets that i still inhabited the mortal plain. my knees were now allowing me to experience two hundred year old joints.
i am able to walk, only just and very carefully. any sideways movement tends to lead to a horrible howling sound emerging from deep in my throat.

managed to eat and swallow some more ibuprofen. now the question is, should i look for a lift down to the village surgery or should i just lie here and hope for a miracle!

oh yeah... and happy christmas to you too ;-)

the tale of a toe

it was the 28th of july. the day before i was due to leave new york, dunkin' donuts, japanese buffet,two cats, giant oak trees and herself. i was on the internet acquiring an aisle seat on my british airways flight.

the room and the computer belong to my muse (she who was safely tucked away at work at that moment in time). it is an interesting room ... a desk piled high with books and papers, sweet wrappers and the odd vitamin capsule. the walls are lined with books reflecting her work, her research, her catholic interests. a scratch pole for the cats, next to the window, enabling them to gaze out onto the street below and lust after the birds and squirrels which inhabit the tree in front of the house. to the side of the house a great oak tree leans one of it's branches against the roof of the room. on windy new york days it groans and squeals, an interesting cacophony of sound, designed to strike horror into the mind of one who believes houses should be built of brick. has no one in the states heard the story of the three little pigs and the wicked wolf?

the room also contains two ironing boards, the original ironing board, which now serves as a resting place for papers, cameras, coat hangers and cats and the new ironing board... intended for use in an ironing sense. anyway, it was the original ironing board which caused the problem! the smallest toe of my left foot connected with the leg of said ironing board. uhuh! and as we say back home eina!! (a word usually shouted with intense feeling, meaning ...ouch...only more so).

the day before i was due to fly home to scotland, i broke my little toe...again. seems to me that particular toe has a deep need for space, periods of separation from the sibling toes, perhaps some deep primal need to be something more ....
whilst in dreadful pain and agony, i was not fazed... i have broken a fair number of toes in my life and i know how to handle them. it is only a matter of taping the offending digit to the next whole and unbroken toe. then you wait until the body performs her magic and knits the broken bones together. this process may take quite a while and one is bound to experience a number of ouch moments before the healing process is complete.

ok ... so this is old news, why am i regaling you with this particular story right now? there is always a reason....
two nights ago, i was standing in my little kitchen, dishing up huge platefuls of food for my beloved grandchildren (little brother is in hospital for a week of tests and mom is staying with him). i was happy and content, feeding my loved ones is always a bonus.the next minute, with absolutely no warning, the front piece of the units drawer, separated from the unit and crashed down onto... you guessed it ... my newly healed small toe. of course it crushed the two toes next in line as well, but for some reason the pain in the little one was ... hmmm, much worse!

now, there are a couple of fairly obvious rules when it comes to dealing with the offspring of one's children. show no fear and try not to curse. so when, in response to the crash in the kitchen...four rather worried young faces appeared...
my mind was screaming "omg! now all of my toes are broken" while my body continued to dish up their dinner, somewhat in the way of super nanna!

as it turns out, there were no broken toes, merely bruised and blue, turning to purple. the poor little... previously broken...small toe...
is indeed severely traumatized. swollen and stiff, but whole.
i live in a rented house...the important question is ... should i sue?