Sunday, March 05, 2006


Three-day weekend, Dan-style

Friday: managed a rather spectacular (if unintentional) dismounting of my bicycle whilst cycling home drunk across an icy boardwalk.

Saturday: five Stalkermails, ranging from a proposed lunch meeting to give me a Valentine's gift to wondering if I've "received any bad accidents" because I'm not answering her mails for some reason.


My team's getting absolutely trounced at football, but my legs, a little stiff from the previous day's double bill of futsal, are starting to loosen up a bit. I get the ball and a guy's coming across to challenge me.

Decision time: do I try some fruity trick, or do I bank on the fact that I'm faster than him and just leg it?

I went for the latter.

Here's how it turned out:


"Contusion" said the doctor. I asked him what a contusion was. He asked me where I was from. I told him England, but that nobody had ever told me that I had a contusion before, so I didn't understand. He looked at me pityingly, which I thought a little off.

This whole exchange, apart from the "C" word, was conducted in Japanese, which goes to show who's the linguist and who's just a poxy doctor (probably a pox doctor, too.)

I guessed that it meant something really basic, like swelling, although I must confess I felt strangely disappointed that my hand, despite the searing pain, wasn't broken.

But, like the Murphy's, if not the staff at Murphy's, I'm not bitter...

still hardcore

I've got three more beers to drink and I'll be up bright and early to renew my aquaintance with the good people in the orthopaedics clinic. O hisashiburi!

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