Do As You Are Told!

Last weekend Dave (the cat) and I had a nice quiet Saturday while Robbie had a fantastic time on a rail tour to Penzance. By the time Robbie got home I had gone to bed so I didn't have a good look at him until the Sunday morning. Most blog readers will know that he likes nothing better than trotting around in his pants - only in the house, it scares the neighbours if he goes out like that! Anyway I noticed that he had cuts and grazes on his legs and when I questioned him he didn't have a clue how they had happened. Robbie's legs are a bit challenging (rather like their owner!) and what would be a fairly trivial cut for most people can be a real problem for him because things take so long to heal, in fact they often get worse rather than better. So it is hardly surprising that I was determined to bathe the cuts and put some antiseptic on them before they had a chance to go bad. Robbie, who still deludes himself that he is Superman, had other ideas and he was equally determined that his legs would be fine without any attention. I gave up on him because I knew that he would meet his match later in the day, and sure enough he had only been at my mums house for ten minutes before a large tube of Germolene was produced and his legs were duly anointed. The tube of Germolene was sent home with us and Robbie promised to take care of his cuts and grazes. Taking care of his legs has involved me chasing around the lounge armed with antiseptic several times this week and until yesterday he was adamant that he would be fine. Yesterday morning he was forced to admit that one of the cuts was now green and nasty and looking very angry and will need to be dressed to prevent it getting even worse. The problem is that he is going on another rail tour in a week or so and I am wondering how to protect his legs from whatever he managed to scrape them on last time - shin pads seem a bit extreme for a rail tour!

Pain and Suffering!

When I got home yesterday evening Robbie was nursing and injured finger. He had achieved a variation on a theme, and instead of hopping around with blood pouring out of his foot after stepping on something, he had sliced the top off of his finger instead! Apparently he had put his hand in his toiletry bag to find his razor and came into close contact with the blade. He pointed out countless times that it was his middle finger and he couldn't function without it. He spent the evening making a series of grimaces worthy of a Gurning Contest, and he cradled his hand with the middle finger stiff as if constantly ready to make an ungentlemanly gesture. As they say every cloud has a silver lining and at least the injured finger took his mind of his cold!

I am so annoyed with one of Robbie's colleagues, he has introduced Robbie to a new website that enables you to track ships, to see where they are, where they are registered and a plethora of other facts about them. Needless to say Robbie felt obliged to share his new discovery with me and for several hours he read out countless facts about every ship he came across. I think the creators of the site should market it widely as a soporific!!

Trouble Afoot

On Sunday evening I had just settled down to do some writing when there was a yell of pain from the bathroom. The yell was followed by a string of expletives and then thunderous bumps that indicated that Robbie was hopping down the stairs. He burst into the lounge groaning in agony and dripping blood onto the floor. Incredibly he had manaed to get glass in his foot again, and he was ranting that someone was deliberately leaving glass around for him to tread on. I'm not sure what made me more angry, his stupid accusations or the fact that he had hopped arround the house leaving a trail of blood instead of calling me to the bathroom to help him. He parked himself on the sofa with his foot resting on a chair waiting for me to remove the glass a procedure not made easier by his yelps of agony or by my less than perfect close up vision when wearing contact lenses. I removed the glass fairly easily, it was a tiny sliver of very thin glass, but shutting Robbie up was more of a challenge. I said that the way he walks must have something to do with it because it never happens to anyone else and the sensible thing would be for him to not walk around barefoot. He wouldn't hear of it, so I have no idea how to avoid further incidents like this. I've had a very close look at the bathroom floor and I can't see or feel any glass. I think it must get trodden in on Robbie's boots, and those boot, just like Robbie's feet are a law unto themselves!

Putting His Foot in It. 04.03.08

Robbie has been in the wars over the last couple of days. On Sunday he plunged his hand into the washing up bowl and cut a chunk out of his knuckle. He raged around moaning about the stupidity of putting a knife in the washing up bowl, he had a point, but most people look before they leap! It was a nasty gash and it was in an awkward place but it hardly warranted all the drama and comment.

By Monday evening Robbie's 'war wound' had been more or less overshadowed by the events of the day and Robbie had ventured back into the kitchen. Suddenly there was the unmistakable crashing sound of breaking glass followed within a split second by a volley of expletives. I knew instinctively that it was either one of my glass saucepan lids or a casserole dish, it is never just a glass that can be replaced easily and with little expense. He told me later that it was a saucepan lid that some 'idiot' had booby trapped so that it jumped out of the cupboard at him!

Robbie hopped into the lounge and waved his foot at me, there was hardly anything to see but he was sure he had glass in his foot. On close investigation (with a needle) I could see the glass but it wouldn't come out. I had visions of a night at casualty with Robbie and his foot, that prospect spurred me on to 'do the deed' at home. Eventually I got a flat sliver of glass out of his foot, it had gone in deep and had turned so that it was hard to get out. He seems fine now, there is only a tiny little wound but it was deep do he will have to make sure it doesn't get infected. Somehow I doubt that this incident will stop him from trotting around the house in PJ's and bare feet but you never know!

Rumpelstiltskin! 26.09.07

Robbie fell over again this morning. He cut his knee badly and grazed his hands, worse of all he tore his new work trousers (the ones that travelled to Euston on their own!). He had to come home, clean up, change his trousers and recover his dignity, so he missed his usual train and had to go for the next one. His knee is hurting him badly, but hopefully it will soon get better.

Yesterday proved to be a day of confessions for Robbie. He had meetings in London and I wondered why he left at the crack of dawn for a 10am appointment. I should have known better, he managed to visit four mainline stations for a bit of train spotting - he is impossible! The more surprising confessions involved the kitchen, he admitted that the new arrangement of the kitchen cupboards works much better. I sensed I was on a winning streak and through gritted teeth he managed to admit that the new tea towel is actually very good!

The dog and cat decided to play games with Robbie last night. I had just gone to bed and Robbie was heading in that direction too, when Megan asked to go out in the garden - and she wouldn't come in! The best thing is to ignore her and within 5 or 10 minutes she will rattle the door to come in, but instead Robbie (dressed in PJ bottoms and Dr Marten boots) was galloping round the garden trying to catch her. I could have told him that it was futile, but Meg had fun and Robbie got some exercise - I dread to think what the neighbours though, but they were in for a little more entertainment. The kitten got out and he couldn't catch him either, in the end he had to go out with one of the kitten's toys (a mauve feathery thing on a stick) and coax him in by playing with him. Finally both the little terrors were safely back in the house and Robbie came to bed - it was 2am!! I had already been asleep for a couple of hours, but Robbie was dancing with rage and the air crackled with expletives - he reminded me of Rumpelstiltskin! I finally calmed him down, leaving him sleeping soundly and me wide awake - typical

Slightly Singed Green Fingers

Robbie is not an experienced gardener, but last year he willingly ventured out to the front garden armed with the hedge cutter. I had shown him how to use a circuit breaker, but shortly afterwards I realised that Robbie wasn't using the equipment safely. Words were exchanged, the white flag of surrender was waved and Robbie returned to his venture appropriately protected. Seconds later there was a bang and Robbie was on the floor looking stunned. He had, as predicted, cut straight through the cable. He suffered a bruised bottom and dented dignity, but thankfully he was otherwise unscathed.