Am home for the day as got to go to the fracture clinic in a bit to find out how much damage I've actually done to my elbow.
Caught Daybreak for the first time ever - bit ropey - and now watching Lorraine. She is currently doing a piece on apple crumble (or "crumbo" as we would call it here in Plymouth) with a chef who has a gorgeous Westcountry accent. Oooh he's put a lovely gert dollop of clotted cream on there. Beaute.
Lorraine just took a sip of a beetroot smoothie and this has reminded me of something from the weekend (might want to look away if you're eating your breakfast). Having enjoyed a side order of fried beetroot in Kracow, I feel I should warn Lorraine not to forget she drank it as I had the shock of my life when I went to the toilet and thought I was suffering from major internal hemorrhaging before remembering I'd eaten a plate full of beetroot.
Oh come on! That's funny! True story.
Anyway, me and the bionic plaster of Paris arm are off to try washing my hair. I've just realised how stupid an idea that actually is, it's never going to work.
Arm is really hurting today :( I'm starting to worry that it might be diagnosed as "totalis fuckedum" to quote the correct medical term. You know me, I don't like to grumble. But I'm sure I'll report back.
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