Wednesday, 30 July 2008


Which do you want first? The good news or the good-challenged news? . . . . What's that? I can't hear you. . . . no . . .Always the optimist, I'll start with the good.

The St Bernardus Abt drought is over! The Gall & Gall on Amstelveenseweg stocks it Hooray! I have a SBAIACY next to my mouse right now. A very man has been made old happy.

Dolores has always hated our kitchen. Especially the two redundant steps leading up to it. She's right. It's claimed many victims. It ripped off one of Lexie's toenails during The Police Game. This morning it was my turn.

Have I mentioned my broken ankles? (I enter drunken man with incomprehensible regional accent mode.) No? You're sure? Not just saying that to be polite? Tell me if I'm boring you.

The kids do. 'Daaad. You've already told me that.' 'I know, dad. You said that ten minutes ago.' 'Not again dad. You just exactly the same thing.'

I've often banged my toes into the stupid kitchen steps. Today, for the first time, I managed a perfect hit. At exactly 90 degrees. It did hurt a bit. The crack! was more disturbing. Dolores heard it. 'I heard a crack!' No. Don't tell me that. I'm worried enough already. I want reassurance.

Berlin. Thursday. Stupid kitchen. I should rip you out.

Some might say my ankle breaks were suspicious. I'll just say Volksfest and feest. But they weren't my fault. I wasn't drunk. Really. Well, not that drunk. I won't deny that alcohol had passed my lips. I wasn't pissed, right?

This time, there can be no doubt. I was walking into the kitchen of foot injuries to make breakfast.

The doctor says that whatever the toe next to the biggest one is called is either broken or gekneusd. He leaned towards the latter. Not quite sure what that is in English. That's always part of the thrill of conducting medical appointments in a foreign language. Like reading a 16th century brewing text, You're never quite sure of the vocabulary.

'Berlin has an excellent metro system.' my doctor helpfully said when I told him I was going there. Yeah. I'm going to a beer festival several kilometres long. The metro will be a big help. But he's friendly, helpful and positive. So I don't mention the festival. One more day to rest up. I'll be fine.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

There was someone once who suggested the toes should be named after the pigs in the "this little piggy" game, so the big one would be "porcus" mercatorius" (being the one that "went to market" and the next one in, which you may or may not have geknusd, would be "porcus domesticus".