It never rains... cetra cetra...
My first notable incident after dragging myself out of bed this morning was to walk into the corner of a knee-height open wooden drawer as I got dressed. Normally, when one bashes oneself, there's a bit of a sting and that's that. But no, I managed to split the skin. Large globules of blood leaked out. It's not a huge wound but it was enough to take my breath away and make my eyes water.
After plastering up my knee and getting the LK Bennett dress ready to be posted back to the shop (it's hanging off me), I went to the GP, who said I need to have a lump – probably a cyst – under my armpit aspirated (needled and analysed). She didn't seem too concerned but said I should have it checked out.
Next stop was the vet, to collect Albert, who still isn't quite right but was getting stressed by the cacophony of other animals there, which obviously wasn't helping matters. I've brought her home to relax in her own environment, and am keeping everything crossed that she eats and performs certain bodily functions pronto.
As I left the veterinary surgery, the rain was pouring from a grey sky. Added to that was a sight that always makes your heart sing: a police officer hovering by your vehicle.
So, the van-driving Peeler stood by my car, which was parked next to a vet ambulance, and watched unblinking as I ran towards her with Albert in her blue carrier dangling from my left hand and a bag of medication in my right hand. She asked: "Is the vehicle yours?"
Er, no. I'm just running towards you with a sick animal in tow in the pissing rain because I really, really like coppers with nothing better to do than fuck up my day.
I was tempted to argue the toss with the woman but took one look at her wasp-chewing face and knew it would just be a waste of my time (and there was also the risk that Albie would get wetter and more stressed).
Officer Compassion Bypass glanced at me, her face as warm as a statue in a wintry graveyard, and said, in a monotone: "You're on the public pathway," before thrusting a sodden, sodding penalty notice thing into my hand. Bet the only place she'd secure a kiss would be Glasgow...
Hmph, that's £100 down the drain – and for what?! The place I parked was next to another vehicle – the kerb was even lowered so that cars could mount it! I gave her a look that probably won't have had much effect on her conscience but possibly might have made her feel something for a nanosecond. I wish I'd taken a photo of where my car was. Damn – £100! I could have appealed. Or bought a new dress to replace the baggy but beautiful LK Bennett number.
Anyway, here we are at home: me and my two house rabbits. My knee's throbbing and I've got lots of work to do. My day, however, will be deemed a major success if Albert produces a dropping or 10. And I never thought I'd say that...
