Dealing with the consequences of a fall. 10:30 last night I tripped over a box file in the study and fell on my hands and knees. It would have been no big deal except that I had a wine glass in my right hand. Which smashed in my tightening grip. Then I had a wine glass in my right hand rather too literally. Pricey taxi to the John Radcliffe, trying not to make the rear seats look too much like Pulp Fiction. Had the cut across the pad at the base of my right forefinger swilled out by triage nurse (Irish, lovely). Put in (short) queue for doctor’s assessment. He says it’s too wide and way too deep to glue so he washes all the clots out, anaesthetises it (in that order 
) and inserts three stitches. Equally pricey taxi ride home (at least the local taxi firm are still talking to me after the blood the first time). Now looking at getting a handful of blood out of a plain beige carpet. Fortunately most seems to have dried in biggish lumps on the surface and might just chip off. Damn. Plus in the first few seconds after I did it I realised I no longer had any sensation up the outside of the finger beyond the first knuckle.
VB