Just when you think things are going OK and you start to enjoy life it turns around and bites you in the bum or in my case in the leg.
We had a great night at the Battle Proms over at Blenheim Palace. Either the Duke of Marlborough just thought of inviting a few friends to tea or wanted to give the peasants a bit of culture. The latter I suspect, especially as the peasants were coughing up 30 sovs a pop for the 'invite'.
We were led to believe that the 1812 was played for the first time ever exactly as Ludwig had wanted it with 197 cannons on the music score. There was no shortage of cannons.
A flying display which consisted of one two seat Spitfire (of which there are not very many) thrilled the crowds.
All in all a fabulous night well worth the levy. Then home.
It was just after midnight as I was leaving my boat for a nightcap with Bones that I tripped on my rope and ruptured my Achilles tendon. Oh the pain!!!!!!!! So bad was it that I actually prayed to die.
Of course me being me thought I had pulled a muscle and 'it would e better in a few days'. This would explain why I took the dogs for a walk on Sunday morning and later took the boat for water. Stupid Boy!
Sunday afternoon saw my good friend Mort take me to A&E where I was plastered and given an appointment to return Monday.
On Monday Martin of nb Ulysses ferried me around the hospital. An Ultra sound scan and a visit to the trauma department confirmed the worst Achilles tendon definatly bust. Another plaster and a 'can you come back on Thursday for the op?' By now the pain had ceased and I was feeling better. So off I went for a few days rest and a bit of practice with my new crutches.