So this week has been a bit manic. Mr M did something to his ankle, which we are yet to discover. The upshot is, we ended up in A&E the other night, after the doc had a good ol' fiddle (with his ankle) he said this -
'I can tell you it's not broken! There is no torn ligaments either!'
Mr M - 'Oh that great news I was worri...
'Let me finish, it's not broken, so we can't put it in a cast, it's not torn so I can repair it. It's worse actually'
Mr M 'What?'
'Well, you actually have permanent ligament damage, as in - it's not going to go away. Further from that, we can't do anything to repair it, until it tears. It will eventually begin to feel better, in a few weeks or months, we can't really tell you that without and MRI - which we won't do, further to that you're going to need to sign yourself off from work and get a doctors note for at least 2-3 weeks.'
Mr M 'Oh.'
And with that lovely doctor man leaves. He wasn't really lovely in anyway. At all.
Mr M 'Oh. Fuck. Sake. Oh. Fuck.'
So there we go that is the update of the ankle variety!
In other news, well, I cleaned the kitchen. Totally blitzed it yesterday, and today it looks like a shit tip, I blame the invalid.
To console myself after an arsehole of a week (I just noticed it was Thursday not Friday -crappoly), I have gin.