Eight stitches in his head

Kristen Lamb – you have a lot to answer for, pursuading us to blog three times a week!

The most recent drama here is a husband who returned from work bleeding. I didn’t notice because he walked straight into the bathroom and attempted to mop himself up. Then, when it wouldn’t stop, he finally found me and told me how he’d accidentally slammed the hatch of his van down on his head. Head-wounds bleed.

I think he must have been half-concussed because he went on to collect a job from one of our decorators (and spooked her) and then went grocery shopping at the supermarket on the way home. Heaven only knows what the customers thought.

Anyway, there he was, leaking blood and needing a cup of coffee. I eventually persuaded him to go to the local medical centre – a bare hundred yards away. He came back with eight stitches and a nice neat dressing on his forehead.

                            Mrs Pearson's man

Here he is, undamaged. Getting him to stay still for a photo is a total impossibility, but wives can be sneaky. A wee while ago he needed new specs, and had brought several frames home from the optician to consider. Of course if you’re long-sighted, you can’t see yourself in the mirror if there are no lenses in the frames. “This is hopeless!” he said, getting a good deal angrier that when he’d bashed himself on the head.

“Hang on,” said helpful Mrs Pearson. “Let me take your photo in each of the frames and then you can put your glasses on and look at yourself on your computer screen.” I’ve never seen him so obedient. He stood there looking at me, apparently in very fuzzy focus, and I got my shots.

Has a good bang on the head slowed him down? You must be joking. That night he installed a new light fitting, rehung a painting on one of our newly painted walls, and then decided to rewire some of the mysterious contents of the stereo cabinet. You can’t keep a good man down.