Aug 12 2008
I Have A Cool Scar
After Mulley‘s suggestion, I’m going to tell you something stupid:
The day after my birthday, two years ago, I was doing the washing up. There was a lot of glasses to be washed up after the party the previous night. Lottie was passed out in the bedroom with a hangover and I was feeling pretty damn good.
I got my hand stuck inside a pint glass while washing it and as I yanked, the glass broke in my hand. I didn’t feel it at first and the tap was running, so I didn’t notice the gash on the back of my hand. But slowly the sink began to fill with blood. I looked at the cut on my hand and between gushes of red, I saw bone.
Calmly, because I’m like that, I wrapped my hand in a tea-towel and walked in to the bedroom. Then Lottie heard the words she dreads more than any other – “Don’t worry, everything is fine”. They were followed with “but I think I need to go to the hospital”. She sobered instantly and grabbed her car keys.
A few hours and three stitches later we returned home. Two years on, I have a constant reminder of my stupidity. Honestly, I still get nervous washing pint glasses.
