Put your little hand in mine
2010-11-22 | 8:32 p.m.
A splinter of wood, which I believe once had the grand honour of being part of Court 1 of the Old Bailey, is now stuck somewhere on my person, betwixt tights and knee and goodness is it itchy.
I've just began a long overdue diary entry by talking about a splinter. You may be able to tell not masses of amazing excitement has befallen me over the course of November, though as much as I'd be perfectly happy spending the entirety of winter cosily snuggled in my leopardprint onesie, this would mean missing the Crown Prosecution Service Homicide Unit Christmas party. As I quipped to Jenn, 'Fancy cutlery theft, gallavanting round a barrister's chambers and crashing the Flying Squad's afterparty are all optional extras.' We have done this in previous years - always nice supplementing Yuletide activities with an extra helping of debauchery!
But this month I have been mainly working, working, working. I've never had so many transcripts ordered, which while irritating in its sapping of my leisure time does mean I'll be alright at staying financially afloat for the next couple of months. And it means I can make extravagant purchases like - ooh - say, a return flight to Germany for me and Katie in early February next year. Did I mention my brother moved to Heidelberg in October? Did I fuck. But he did and we're going out there to visit in just over two months. YES!
In sadder news I chipped a bone in my foot a couple of weeks ago, with the added insult of a torn tendon. Say it with me people, OUCH.COM. I'm still not entirely sure what happened but on Bonfire Night the kids who live downstairs (19-year-old students, heh) had a party and we were invited, which was nice, except it was like stepping into an episode of Skins. I began telling people I met I was 'Er, 22,' and quickly trying to work out what my 'date of birth' would be. Still, it was fun but at some point during the evening whilst collecting booze from ours I believe that instead of walking down the steps to the flat below us, I decided I was Superman and could just jump down! Well that brought me quickly back down to Earth. Next day = agony.
I couldn't walk on my left foot and even hobbling was a step too far (note to self: shut it with the foot puns). In normal circumstances I very much enjoy the movement that the human body is designed to partake in and thus my foot made me VERY SAD INDEED. I'd meant to have been visiting my mum which was out of the question once I realised getting to the bathroom from the living room (less than 10 metres away) was nearly causing tears to form in my eyes. After a few bed-ridden hours I rang NHS Direct who advised me to go to hospital, which I did. A two-hour wait (reasonable) and X-rays ensued, I was informed of my aforementioned injuries, then told, 'Sorry but we don't deal with this. It should heal on its own. Here is a Nurofen for you,' and sent on my merry way. Brilliant..!
Anyway, it's been improving greatly so whilst there is some residual pain I can actually walk places, which is nice. And I can swim, which is also nice. I quite fancy getting back to the gym sometime soon as December's traditionally the time of year when eating the weight of a puffin in chocolate every week is something that's inevitably achieved and running really is a good remedy to any ill-effects of this.
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