Thursday afternoon 4pm
Husband: We need to pick up son’s car from MOT garage.
Me: I’m just about to start cooking. Can’t it wait?
Husband: No we need to go. Garage closes at 5.
Me: Why can’t we pick it up in morning?
Husband: I’m not leaving his car in garage overnight.
Me: Why not? It’s a car. Cars like garages.
Husband: It might be stolen.
Me: It’s a Corsa not a Ferrari. (Looks out of window) Can’t go. Freak snowstorm.
Husband: All the more reason to go. Son’s car only car fitted with snow tyres.
Me: No way am I driving in this snow.
Husband: Don’t be such a girl. We need a car with snow tyres to get up our lane
Me: Exactly. Your car doesn’t have snow tyres. We won’t be able to get up lane.
Fifteen minutes later after skidding round the bend on our lane and 2cms from crashing into wall we arrive at top of our lane to find Kaye Lane in chaos. Cars all over the place, can’t get up or down.
Husband: F word (to power of 3)
Me (No words forthcoming. Never want to speak to him again. Abandon ship)
Set off back down lane, several snowballs hitting my back sent from Husband in what can only be supposed flirty, consillitary manner. Was not won over. Uggs obviously not best footwear for freak snowstorm-laden lane. Heard the crack of broken arm before felt pain. Husband worried. Pain incredible. Husband back up lane with shovel and grit. Car 1cm from wall on bend as it comes sliding back down. One and a Half hours to do twenty minute journey to A and E fighting sliding cars and resulting traffic jams.
Three different X-rays, two different plaster casts, paracetamol, diclafenac and eventually morphine later, was surrounded by Polish orthapeidic surgeon called Bron, one student nurse, one fully trained nurse and two plaster cast technicians who did a virtual tug of war from my shoulder to fingers in an attempt to reposition bones in wrist. All of us covered in white plaster. Daughter, eating ham and cheese sandwiches, decides on career change from lawyer to A and E consultant.
Husband goes very white and sweaty and has to be removed to waiting room. Daughter on to Kit Kat,and I’m in a morphine-induced promotion of my book to the lovely Bron and all his minions.
One final X-ray through plaster cast and Bron tells me Tug-of-War been in vain and I need to come back in morning for General anaesthetic and pins to be put in.
10.30 pm Thursday Home
Can manage all clothes off myself except bra. Husband offers hand.
Husband: (with gleam in his eye) Mmm Not done this for a while!
That’s when I hit him.