10 May, 2014

The Master

I generally regard myself as a modest type, but on one issue I will brook no dissent. When it comes to kitchen accidents no one comes close.

Over the years I have suffered sprains, bruises, dropped stuff on my feet, got hot oil, water or fat in most anatomical locations and of course got burns everywhere. My culinary career has been tantamount to self-harm.

My latest contribution was to put a pan of hot oil on the cooker such that it could not balance. As I noticed it falling towards me, with great presence of mind I leaped backwards. During this manoeuvre a shoe came off, I slipped and lost my footing and landed heavily on the terracotta floor on my backside, sliding along until my head struck a solid chestnut door.

Don't try this at home, children.

In over a week of enforced misery, lying on my front, under heavy medication, I have absorbed the news stories without being able to comment or even, as is my usual practice, throw things at the television.

I am now heading for the land of the living, if not for civility. 

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