injuring myself like a drunken fucking idiot

 My knee after being cleaned up

My now filthy tracksuit top

 Some scratches on my face after being cleaned up

 My swollen lip after cleaning

My bloody nose just after l got home

I had a bit of a mishap yesterday evening, purely my own fault, as l am a fucking idiot.

I had been working overnight, and then in the morning, and called round to see Joe afterwards.  From there, l went to The Wine Bar, where l was pleasantly surprised to see Fred, as l had passed by a military funeral at Hipswell earlier in the day, and thought it could have been his, as he has cancer, is not well, and he used to be high ranking in the army.  I ended up staying out with him and others, and as l am trying to behave myself and not drink and drive, l left my car and decided to run home.  This may have been the slight flaw in the evenings entertainment, as l fell over about halfway home and pretty much landed on my face.  I obviously leapt back to my feet again with the reflexes of a meerkat and foolishly decided to carry on running, resulting in a second fall, with pretty much the same result.  What a drunken buffoon you may be thinking, and you could well be right, but that was not all.  When l eventually arrived home in my bloody and scratched up state, I went upstairs to clean myself up a bit, and then fell down the stairs.  It was like a one man display of top notch stupidity from start to finish.  The FPO had been house sitting at her parents while they are away on holiday, but we went to Richmond today to buy some books for my nieces birthdays, and she was openly laughing in my face at my cuts and swollen lip. I can't say l blame her, as l look like daffy duck at the moment.  My current injuries are:

Both knees scratched, swollen and sore

Both shoulders (and my bum) are sore from falling down the stairs 

Both hands scratched trying to halt the forward falls

Large scratches on my left cheek (plus it's swollen)

Scratches on my nose, and lip, plus my lip is swollen

Two scratches on my forehead, plus one small dent in my skull (again), and another cut on my scalp (again)

It's a good job my nose had already been broken playing football, and l am indestructible.  This sort of thing would have been the death of a lesser man.

Next time though, l'll order a bleeding taxi.

toodle pip

walking to joes

One of the joys of living next to lots of countryside!  I foolishly decided to get some fresh air and walk to Joes yesterday, forgetting how wet it would be.  The journey itself doesn't take long (through the woods to Colburn), but it's a pain in the arse trying to miss all of the puddles and horse crap.
Still, it was probably the most exercise l've had for a while, so l'm obviously full of piss and vinegar now, and with my 'new heart' l felt like l could have hopped all of the way (if it wasn't for that pesky mud).

toodle pip

chocolate from joes

As they say in the 'Airplane!' film,  I've picked a fine day to give up chocolate.  I called round to Joes earlier  this evening as his leg/knee was playing up, and he may have to go back into hospital.  He is seeing how he gets on in the next couple of days, but before l headed back home, l was presented with a box of goodies that contained a mixture of chocolates from Cadbury's.  Joe gets them free for some reason (maybe because he owned/owns shares?) but doesn't eat the stuff, so the FPO was happy, and l attacked the Liquorice Allsorts watching United pull back a 0-2 deficit to win 3-2 against Braga.  What a pleasant evening.  Now l'll have to find a place to hide the rest of the chocs or we will be sitting and stuffing our faces every night.

toodle pip

joe is off the whisky

I went round to old Joe's yesterday, with the intention of taking a decent bottle of whisky round to share with him, but it turned out to be a sober experience, as he told me the night before that he is not drinking at all at the moment, as he is waiting to have an operation next week, and has been told by the doctors to lay off it beforehand.
Bit of a swine really, as l have been swotting up on the stuff, with the handy chart featured above.
Mind you, it's not surprising really, as he also said he had got through 28 bottles of the stuff between the week before Christmas and last week.
That is as well as the 5 or 6 cans he was having every day.
No wonder he is buggered.
Saying that, he is going to be drinking again after the operation, as he said he would rather enjoy his life and die younger, rather than abstaining from things he likes.
I'm amazed he has already lasted as long as he has, he has got the constitution (and body) of an ox.

toodle pip