Self harm

Dylan is looking at me with sympathy as I fell over this morning, breaking two arms in the process.

I was carrying a small fridge down the garden to our garage when I tripped over the garden hose. Ended up shaken and winded, with a grazed elbow, a pulled calf muscle and a badly bruised toe. 

I confess the broken arms weren’t mine but belonged to two of the little fellas on our Mexican dancing men statue. The heavy fridge fell on them and made a spectacular noise as it conducted a double amputation. In a curious way it looks quite good now. More inclusive.

Fortunately my tumble didn’t stop me a driving later as we were on our way to a friend’s birthday party on the other side of London this evening. This was a jolly affair and the birthday girl was radiant although much of the conversation was carried on in the dark so it was a bit like a ballo in maschera in that you didn’t always know who you were talking to. There was also a small and very rude shire horse running around the garden eating food off peoples’ plates so you had to guard your grub. I later found out that he was actually a big shaggy dog called Shelby, which is a really cool name. 

Read another Booker novel today, "small things like these". So short it really only qualifies as a short story. Very good, quite sad. Trapped people, dark secrets and institutional abuse in a small town in Ireland.

Got home just before midnight, exhausted and shivering. Think the fall damaged my thermostat.

I have put the hose away properly now.