Thwack!

The sound that a cricket ball makes against wood, eh? Or perhaps the sound that such a ball made against S's finger, which now bears a crack, in a vertical line.

I was exhausted last night and went to bed earlier than normal. This meant that I was uncharacteristically asleep when S came back home at around midnight (he plays for several teams, one of which is on the other side of London).

So, this morning, he kisses me on the head and I slowly come to, and he droops his hand before my face and says, "I think I've broken my finger. I couldn't sleep as it's so painful." I switched on the lamp and sure enough, a black, blue, green and yellow digit, in a puffy, lumpen shape, appeared before me. He couldn't move the finger. I sent him to A&E. Neither of us needed an X-ray to know he had cause for concern.

OK, so people have worse breaks, but S loves his cricket and more to the point, needs to practise kung fu as grading is potentially in a few weeks if we reach the standard (who knows?). He sure as heck won't be wicket-keeping for a while. I really do feel for him. (Or what kind of wife would I be, exactly?)

Mercifully, I was working from home today enabling me to see a sleep therapist to talk through my sleep 'act'. She is excellent. Expensive, too. But sleep is priceless, as my friend SS said today. She has given me plenty of rules to follow. They aren't easy but they aren't impossible.

But one thing will be difficult, especially as I have loads and loads of it at home: no more chocolate, in any shape or form... aaagghhh!