Mea Culpa.

The removal van is coming to take my gear – not that sort of gear – into storage this morning, so in the best traditions of “Blue Peter”, here’s one I made earlier.

A few words about injury inflation. 

You know what it is, even if you didn’t know it had a name. If you’re female you’ll possibly have experienced it and if you’re male, you might well have caused females to experience it. It’s the curious phenomena whereby regardless of whatever injury a female has and how serious it is and mentions it to a man, hoping to elecit a modicum of sympathy from him, something happens. Maybe it’s deeply embedded in a mans DNA? Or just that men don’t like it when the attention isn’t on them?

The man immediately – instinctively, – responds with an ailment of his own, possibly one hitherto unmentioned – because he’s so stoic! – that whilst seemingly trivial to her, is nonetheless more serious than hers.  And therefore the expectation is that sympathy given by, and not received by her. She may not be happy about this. In fact, she’ll never be happy about this, and will let the man know it, at length and in clear, unmistakeable language, which will involve swearing.

I know this only too well. I mentioned the spot on my back a couple of posts ago. Well later that day I was speaking to Nosferatu who made a passing remark to some minor thing. Falling down a flight of stairs. Hurting her hip, her ankle, and most grievous of all, my ear, when I mentioned my spot. She called it nothing more than a boil and my brain immediately latched onto the fact that a boil is more serious sounding than a spot. I immediately assumed the position on the milking stool with gusto. A neat bit of deflection then took place which was all too soon spotted(!) with results as outlined.