The everyday blog of Richard Bartle.
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3:19pm on Saturday, 26th July, 2014:
Earlier today, I thought I was going post about the ill-advised cycle race that was going down Argent's Lane when I went to the supermarket. That was until I gashed my head on a tree cutting the grass.
I loathe cutting the grass beneath the dozen or so fruit trees that grow in out garden. I've lost count of the number of times I've been cut by them. It's usually my hand that gets graunched up under one of the boughs, or a scratch that catches the side of my head where I've dodged to avoid losing an eye. Today, it was a gash to the scalp. It's about 4cm long and 3mm deep — not just a scratch, then. As with all cuts to the scalp, it produced copious amounts of blood, but the flow stopped when my younger daughter (who's training to be a pharmacist) drowned it in antiseptic cream. It seems to be a clean wound, which was a bit of a worry as I had to pull the offending twig out of it when it happened and I was concerned there could have been some of it still lodged in there. I'm going to have to buy a hard hat for the next time I venture in among the fruit trees, or maybe a diving helmet to be doubly safe.
My head is sore now, and I'll have skanky hair for the next few days as I can't really wash it while the cut heals (and, as I was mowing the lawn in the full heat of the afternoon sun, it needs a wash). Still, it wasn't so bad that my wife felt the need to offer to drive me to the hospital. If it had been that bad, I'd have needed an ambulance...
Hmm, I guess I'll need to get out some earplug headphones to listen to the chat for tonight's Secret World raid, rather than use my usual cans.
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