Saturday, August 18, 2007


I am never been fond of feet at the best of times. I am even less fond of my own foot now it has become a member of a North American tribe.
Last Monday I had a totally unprovoked fight with the hoover at work, resulting in my new status as honorary Blackfoot.

By Wednesday I had to take the horror to The Minor Injuries Unit being as it was a minor injury (makes sense really). The foot was still attached to me ankle but was starting to resemble an over stuffed pillow and my toes were disappearing.
The MI unit also claims to deal with your MI faster than the casualty unit 12 miles away where you could get lost for days.

After filling out enough paperwork to slay a forest, the nurse poked and prodded the large object at the end of my leg and the told me I would have to go to casualty for an x-ray.

"But you have an x-ray wotsit here" I said.

She gave me a look.

"Oh no, we couldn't possibly get that great big fat foot in our dear little machine. You might break it".

There was no time to write goodbye notes to the family, I had to be back at work in two hours, so I jumped (well, no, not really) in the car and broke the speed limit to Truro.

The casualty unit was as busy as it could be, with two people waiting in front of me. I was doomed.
There followed a long, boring saga of out of date magazines, a broken vending machine and being locked in because of a helicopter landing outside the main doors, before I eventually made it to the hallowed x-ray halls. Here they managed to get the horror in their machine and promptly (no, stupidass, not promptly) told me that I could, maybe, there was a possibility that I (the bastard hoover) had cracked a tiny bone in the top of me foot.

I had already projected forward into choosing the colour for a bone mending plaster and was wondering if I could still hobble dramatically about at work when I was informed that it was probably best to rest it!.

"What? No purple plaster? No stylish bone fixings to encourage sympathy and small but appropriate gifts?"

"Oh my God, no." the x-ray person said "Do you honestly think that we could let our plaster technicians be exposed to that thing? You might break them."


(today the swelling has gone down but please note that varnish was chosen to match temporary skin discolouration.
Small fluffy toys, confectionery and 'get well foot' cards may be sent down the intertube. )


Jon M said...

You have my heartfelt sympathy! Anything footish or anklish just does my head (?) in! I chose a black cast when my ankle snapped! Keep the offending tootsies elevated!

Roberta said...

Poor Minx, hobbled at such a young age. I am sending chocolates and a cheap tawdry novel your way!

Unknown said...

What sort of a hoover was it? Ooh well rest up and I'll send some things your way.

Unknown said...

That's not too difficult, Jon. After `a few drinks my toes curl up anyway!

Thanks, Roberta, I could do with some tawd.

Oh V, it was awful. The hoover took on a life of its own (a monstrous industrial thing)and attacked me.

Marie said...

How awful for you. Sending healing thoughts your way.

Unknown said...

(Don't tell the others, Marie, but it's not too bad and the changing colour of my skin fascinates me for hours and hours....)

Pants said...

Oh dear Minx

I've chucked an extra bar of B&G's Maya Gold into the blogosphere for you. Speedy recovery.



Unknown said...

Thanks Pants, the voodoo doll is in the intertube now. A hex on lying house buyers!

wife in the north said...

your foot could always sue the hoover for the cost of the blue polish. oooh and new shoes. or at least one new shoe

Vesper said...

Ouch indeed, Minx! Sorry to hear about your mishap. Are you putting some cold compress on it?
I hope you get well soon!

(The nail varnish is beautiful...

Lucy Dee said...

What an awful occasion to wander into your end of the blogosphere! I hope all is well.

You seem to be courageous and have a sense of humo(u)r about it! I'm a standup comedienne and I'm not even sure I would be smiling after such a battle with a Hoover!

Feel better! Nice coming across your blog!

Unknown said...

Shoes, Wifey? Well. since you mention it, I have just....

Today we are a little sulfurous yellow tinged with bile green. I shall have to change my accessories.

Hi Lucy, and welcome. Hoover is an evil, bad creature who much now be avoided at all costs!

Unknown said...

I always thought that you used a broomstick!

Wishing footsie better! You share the same ailment as Steven Gerrard of Liverpool. Mind you they gave him an injection and made him play yesterday against Chelsea. Much better the way that you're minding yours.

Lee said...

Your foot matches Jakob's jaw, since he's just had four wisdom teeth extracted.(At least he's quiet...) Rest up!

Unknown said...

The batteries on me besom ran out, Cailleach.

Play football, I think not, but I am valiantly struggling on at work!

Thanks, Lee. I hope Jakob feels better soon - enjoy the peace.

Taffiny said...

How cruel to deny you your cast, after going through all that. I mean when you go about showing people your black and blues, they never seem properly interested (or so I have found), but if you have a cast, well then people come up to you and ask (assuming you have some interesting trauma. Drama trauma, if you will).

I used to have purple crooked toes, that is why I gave up running. The rest of me has now gone to hell, but my toes look marvellous.

Well I hope you gave hoover a good tongue lashing, and hit him with something hard (but didn't kick him with your other foot). That always makes me feel better. I don't believe all that nonsense about inanimate objects not having intentions.

Unknown said...

Well I've never trusted hoovers at the best of times. Nasty noisy evil things so that even when you are screaming, no one can hear you! Ugh. And you can get black casts! My oh my. Touch wood I've never broken anything, but if I did what exciting possibilities lie ahead of me.

Unknown said...

Blessed karma has caught up with the evil hoover. It passed out this afternoon - I don't think it will last the night.
Revenge is sweet sayeth.... well, me.

Unknown said...

Oh the irony of it. Did anyone help it with a kicking, then...? Not you, obviously ;)

Anonymous said...

Ow, hurts me just looking at it! I once broke my foot by tripping over my briefcase trying to get to my daughter who had just told me she was pregnant. I would be screaming Workers Compensation in your place, do you have such a thing where you are?

Unknown said...

I may have given it a small, but well placed jab below the belt, but who can say!

I think I screamed 'oh, fer fuck's sake' Kat. Compensation came in the form of a nice cup of tea.

Saaleha said...

Eina, that's what we say here. Same meaning as 'ouch!' But I must say, you're a brave witch. I thought there were supposed to be bunions the size of onions on those wigglers. Don't witches wear really pointy shoes?

L.M.Noonan said...

Yup, I did the very same thing nearly three months ago, I've still got a black toe and it I have to be careful how I place my foot.
Having been absent from the net for some days -no electricity; I have been trying to catch up with your posts. Sorry to admit that I chuckled at your tale of indignity and pain, your dark wit will always out. You can but keep off it.

Wanderlust Scarlett said...

Oh Minx!
That's awful! Hope you are healing well.
They didn't even give you any pain medication?
That's ridiculous. Have some wine or gin at least. Sakes.

Hope you are up and about soon.
Lovely polish, by the way.

Scarlett & Viaggiatore

Debi said...

Ooooh -sending saltwater from me eyes which can be added to a tequilla compress (with a slice of lime).

Wish I was still there - what fun we could have had with foolishness like jests about Hopalong Chastity -
Hoo ver hell is she?

Kat kisses x 4 for your foot.

Unknown said...

Pointy hat, pointy shoes, pointy feet, Saaleha.

Nice to see you've fixed the fuse, Noony. Humour is a painkiller.

Scarlett, see above.

That attempt at humour ws very poor, Alper. Try harder next time!

Debi said...

Sore foot making you sniffy, dear?

I kissed your damn foot - what more d'you want?

(Harrumph - some people - never bloody satisfied. You kiss their feet and send albeit crap but best I could do under circumstances jests - and they STILL complain. Don't know why I bother ... no one appreciates me ... sniff.)