Poor hubby

Oh dear he's in the wars this week. He came home from the bush on Saturday (sans gold mind you) and his hand was twice the size it usually is. He didn't even have any knuckles, and it looked so painful. He'd like people to think he went a couple of rounds with some biker dudes, but truth of the matter is that he got bitten on the hand by a March Fly. Because of no open doctors in town we ended up ringing Nurse on Call. What an awesome service. We were most impressed. She got us through the night and by the next morning it had started to recede but he still couldn't make a fist, but gradually over the day it got better. All is well now, but who would have thought a little fly could inflict such a wound.

Then tonight I get home from work and I see a black eye starting to emerge. Again with the biker story!!! Feh, tried that one before. This time it was the cat's fault. Bo had managed to catch herself a bird and hubby got the bird from her and as he put the cat back inside so as to give the bird a chance to escape, the cat sprung loose and the bird flew to a nearby branch. Hubby went chasing the bird (yes, it's starting to sound like a AAMI advert isn't it?) and ran slap bang into a branch. Lucky he didn't take his eye out. He swears there's no damage and it's now half opened but getting nicely dark above the eye. Oh the stories I'm going to be faced with in this little town, ha! I know I'll get the blame here somewhere.

And no way no how was he allowing me to get a camera anywhere near him. Hmmmmph.