I awoke this morning (after an extra half hour lie in after my late night) to rain, and was immediately disappointed because today was The Day I Was Going To Post Mr H's Letter Myself. It needed to go today, but I didn't intend to get soaking wet doing it! Luckily by the time I had had a cup of tea in bed and a hot shower (cures all woes) the sun was out.
On my way out of the gate I saw my elderly neighbour so we had a quick across-the-road conversation. Halfway to the shop I met a builder friend of ours, who spent 10 minutes regaling me with tales of his friends who had broken various limbs/ribs. Out past the shop I took the low-path, I won't next time because it is narrow, very bumpy and has horrendous camber like many of the pavements around here, they all try to steer you into the road! I walk along that path every day to work normally, but had never noticed. Oh how much we take for granted in this life!
Along the main road there are traffic lights at the moment as they are digging up the road. As I went slowly down the line of stationary traffic I considered whether they were looking at me wondering what was wrong with me... I have no visible signs of injury - no plaster or external scaffolding (both of which various people have expected!) - and the non-NHS crutches suggest long-term injury or disability. I also wondered if any of them recognised me since I am a pretty familiar sight walking round here either to/from work or walking Django.
Once I'd posted the letter I was a frog's spit from the vets, so decided to go the extra few yards and call in to pay the £1.94 which they billed me for Django's dressing and blue mankini at the post-op visit.. I wasn't expecting a bill, but as I said to the receptionist it wasn't even enough to be bothered to complain! It occurred to me that it must have been an amusing sight, someone on crutches visiting the vet with no pet. "I decided to save on private health care, I just use the dog's insurance and get treated here instead."
On my way home I thought it would be silly to waste walking past the local shop so I stopped in for bread and (sshhh) strawberry bonbons. By the time I got home 45 minutes later I was tired, hot, and - you guessed it - desperate for a cup of tea.
Now if that letter isn't on Mr H.'s doorstep when he gets back from his trip tomorrow evening, I'll be pretty cross!