No, not a still from the Mummy, but my (filtered) right hand in a cast after a fall last weekend.
I’ve a small break of the distal radius and other than being supremely fed up of this already, as well as grumpy about sore ribs, I’m fine. Thankfully, no surgery is required – as breaks go this is the best you can get.
Worse things happen at sea, etc.
So: a major slow down for me for the next 5/6 weeks or so. Being cloistered (I can’t drive) during a spat of beautiful weather isn’t improving my mood.
The Irish health system had been great overall – and seeing a succession of terribly battered people at the Fracture Clinic puts your trouble in perspective.
But being a writer with a busted right hand is no fun.
Note bene: my husband Martin is officially The Best.