My peas

But not my foot. Long day, long story. More on that another time.

More: normal day, rather excited to find a huge deep fat fryer going cheap and in the same shop: frozen churros - who knew!

Then a vague pre-MrB's-return tidying session found me standing in the living room part way through taking the ironing board away, gawping at the telly and trying to remember how the episode where Doctor Who is maybe killed by his 'wife' who doesn't know who she is yet pans out. Meanwhile Mr B was leaving voicemails, texts and emails (must turn up the ring volume on my phone...) to tell me he had hurt his ankle at Gatwick and would I pick him up at Toulouse.

Happily, I had not yet embarked on any Friday night libations (I know, standards are slipping) so could pack the kids off next door for the night (I said they could just stay in our house, but they didn't fancy it) and headed off through the rain.

The car I'm driving at the moment is not super-speedy at the best of times, and has a roof rack fitted which operates also as a handy speed limiter - if you go over about 90kph it starts whistling. Since I was trying to get there rather urgently I spent most of the journey with what sounded like a trainee pan-pipe band on the roof.

Happily, the few staff remaining in the airpot managed to organise MrB a wheelchair and we headed back (foggy by then) to our local hospital for an X-Ray. As I suspected, turning up in our local A&E on a Friday night at 10.45 was fine - seen straight away and home by 11.20pm! We really do live in a different world - even the kebab shop closes at 10...

So to settle Mr B down with innumerable demands (peas, whisky, ice for whisky, water, crisps, painkillers, Breaking Bad on the telly, large carafe... He really can't walk, but guests needn't worry - we don't use that one for wine or water!)