Those keen readers who actually follow me on twitter too (link to the right people) might vaguely remember that I cut my head open on holiday last month. The cottage that we stayed in at Brancaster Staithe was lovely but did have a bedroom that went into the eaves. I was so careful, I missed the exposed edge every single night until our penultimate one. Then, I bent over to pick up my PJ’s, stood up and the next thing I knew I was sitting on the bed with my head in my hands.
I made my way in the dark to the bathroom just as the blood started gushing out of my head wound. Eventually, I managed to staunch the flow and my brother applied a generous dollop of germoline and bandaged me up. Now photographed evidence of a slightly concussed me is available for all and sundry:
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