I appear to have cut in half the new cheque card that you sent
me. Having received and signed the new card, I went and got the old
one to destroy it like you're supposed to. I picked up the scissors
and was about to perform this act. Just at that moment the kettle,
which I had earlier put on to make a cup of tea, boiled. If I had
put the scissors down at this point then writing to you would not
have been necessary. Sadly I didn't and I feel that I must explain
how this led to the destruction of the card.
As I turned round to see to the kettle, the scissor blades caught
the edge of the sugar bowl knocking it off the kitchen worktop. It
was a good quality lead crystal bowl and indeed, we had often
marvelled at its size to weight ratio. Being first thing in the
morning, my feet were bare and the left one got badly hurt when the
bowl, with its contents, landed on it.
As a knee jerk reaction (literally), I
quickly pulled my foot up in order rub it and hopefully relieve the
pain. Not thinking about the scissors still being clutched in my
hand, I stabbed myself deeply in the thigh with some considerable
force due to my leg's upward momentum.
I hopped around on my other leg trying to stem the flow of
blood, rub my foot and keep my balance. Unfortunately I was unable
to do this for long because I hopped on the edge of the sugar bowl.
It flipped it over in a sort of backwards 'tiddlywinks' motion
sending sugar lumps flying everywhere. The heavy bowl came down
right on top of my foot just where the bones are close to the
surface. I was soon dancing on the spot trying to take the weight
off both feet at the same time.
My wife, who can only walk with the aid of crutches, came to see
what all the fuss was about. Realising my plight she tried to
steady me up. I didn't have great presence of mind by this time and
I rather stupidly grasped at one of her crutches. It came away
easily from under her because the end of it was standing in some of
my blood, which by now had made the floor a little slippery in
We both fell. I initially landed hard in a sitting position
right on top of the upturned sugar bowl. The pain was
indescribable. I only had my dressing gown on and it had flown up
during the fall. It was only later that I discovered that, by sheer
ill fortune, a sugar lump was delicately balanced on the bowl's
upturned base. To avoid being coarse I will not describe precisely
what had happened. Suffice it to say that the sugar lump would
never see a teacup.
My wife came down on top of me pushing me flat and knocking the
breath out of me. She somehow pole vaulted on her other crutch at
the same time which accelerated her into the cooker door head
first. The bulk of her body finally came to rest on my face. Then I
was unable to breathe anyway, so it didn't matter too much about
being winded. She was powerless to get off me being somewhat in
shock and dazed by the head injury she had sustained.
It was only with supreme effort just as consciousness was
starting to fade that I managed to push her off my face. A few
minutes later we argued which of us was best placed to go and call
for an ambulance. I eventually lost and dragged myself to the
telephone to call for help.
The doctors did a wonderful job of patching us up. The removal
of the sugar lump was perhaps the most painful and certainly the
most embarrassing part of the whole sorry episode for me. How the
doctors and nurses could find it so damned funny I just can't
understand. It must have made medical history because they kept
phoning other departments in the hospital suggesting that they
should come over and have a look. I can only hope it stays out of
our local paper as fame on account of this would be undesirable. I
hate to think what the headline might read.
The ambulance finally delivered me back home in the early
evening but they decided that my wife ought to stay in for a period
of observation. She may be allowed home tomorrow providing she can
face it. I hobbled into the kitchen to make the pot of tea that I
didn't get earlier. I carefully limped around the debris and blood
that was all over the floor. I idly wondered what could be done
about the deep dent in the cooker door that had been put there by
my wife's head. It was then that I noticed the two cheque cards
sitting on the work-top. I wiped the scissors clean and, what with
the cards being identical in appearance and me not having my
glasses on, went and cut the wrong one in half. After all the
aforementioned grief you can perhaps imagine the sick feeling this
I hope this letter gives you a reasonable enough explanation as
to why I need another card. My wife has offered, no insisted, that
she will undertake the destruction of the old cards in future. I
asked our neighbour to come in and throw the now hated sugar bowl
and scissors in the dustbin because the pain wouldn't allow me to
walk far enough to do it myself.
I hope you will agree that we have suffered enough for my error.
I would be grateful for your prompt action in sending yet another
card as the old one only has a few days left before it expires,