Illness is such fun.

At some point during the night a small purple mark appeared on the back of my right hand. The mark got larger and more purple as the day progressed. Eventually Jennifer became freaked out, and amidst dark mutterings from her about "Internal hemorrhaging", "Hairline fractures" and "Blood trauma", she arranged for somebody to give me a lift to Accident & Emergency department at Dudley Road. It was late enough for me to skive off for the rest of the day. Hurrah!

At the hospital I made the acquaintance of Nurse Beautiful. I immediately offered to take off all of my clothes, but Nurse Beautiful thought that this would probably be excessive as she was only going to diagnose a problem with an injured finger. Instead, Nurse Beautiful pushed and prodded and poked and sent me to get the finger X-rayed. The results of the X-ray were inconclusive. Possibly a chipped bone at the tip of the finger, possibly not. (I had two X-rays taken. One X-ray looked fine and clear. Nothing wrong. The other X-ray looked muddy.) Nurse Beautiful strapped up my finger anyway, told me to take painkillers if I felt the need and to keep my right hand held high as it would help the swelling to go down. I have an appointment to see a fracture specialist next week, if the problem persists. Nurse Beautiful said it was unlikely that I would need to visit again. She seemed sad. Her cheeky, and it has to be said, slightly sensual smile, was lost in an expression of never-to-be-fulfilled longing.

Sigh.

But what of the purple mark on the back of my hand.

It was a bruise.

When I got home I told Jennifer that there was a risk I might lose my hand, as Septicaemia had set in. I gave her my full monty sad look. Jennifer dismissed me and called me an "Ass!".

No sympathy in this house.

I am typing this with two fingers. It is an utter pain in the arse, but at least gives me a reason to give up for this evening. This is hard work, man! Not used to that.

Back tomorrow. Gig review. Film review. TV drivel talk.