In my trousers, too!
Heh heh, Englishman getting smutty, you think?
Well, no. Today, early this afternoon, I was clambering about on someone's roof making a repair to the dormer window.
I hoisted myself up onto the dormer, and as I did so, banged my leg on the side fascia. I shrugged it off - us window fitters are a tough breed - and completed the job.
Driving home, my leg started to itch, and I realised that I must have grazed it. I was sat in a traffic queue, so I reached down and lifted up my trouser leg and...horrors! A bump had come up like half a tennis ball!
I struggled indoors. The bump was actually growing before my very eyes! Oh God, I'm dying! Or my leg will have to come off, quick, phone Her Ladyship!
Darling, I'm injured, drop what you're doing at college, come and get me, oh oh oh.
Get down the hospital pronto, oh cuddly and gorgeous hubby, (artistic licence) I'll meet you there in half an hour.
So off I went. By now the lump is resembling half a melon and I'm finding it almost impossible to drive. I make it though and sort of hop into the A & E doing a passable imitation of a bounding rook. Look at me, I'm ill!!!
I eventually see a dolly young nurse who takes one look at my leg and exclaims "My! That's a big one!"
Well, it turns out that I have a haematoma. I've broken a blood vessel that supplies these manly calves of mine and the blood is filling up inside this strapping limb. Rest for several days, watch out for infection and it will be completely gone in about a fortnight.
So there you are. One Englishman with several days hanging free to do with as I am able.
Hmm. So what shall I do with all of this spare time, I wonder?
Englishman.
