The other day I told you about my sore little bits on my ankles...and other tales of woe regarding over-exerted muscles and the such like. Did I get much sympathy?? Not really ...but you know what? - I've made my bed and now I must lay in it.
However I certainly didn't sign up for serious head injuries. Yesterday I was playing the victim in a rescue scenario involving my colleague Rheinhard, who needs to complete his rescue diver course (you may remember I managed this back in February 2010) along with Fred (a quite annoying Scottish ex -senior policeman who has a story for everything...oh - how interesting you are - please continue talking.....no really...I'm enraptured....honestly). The Oscar winning performance involved thrashing about on the surface as a panicked diver. I was good. Nay, brilliant. I am - in fact - expecting my Damehood in next years honours.
One of the suggestions is to throw a float attached to a rope to the victim (if they're not too far away) so that they can then be pulled to safety.
Our illustrious leader Martin Stanhope decided to demonstrate and coiled the roap in readyness for said throw. He picked up the heavy float and threw it - with vigour. The idea is that you throw it beyond the panicked diver so that the rope is by their side ......however, Martin has an excellent aim - and the float struck me squarely on the head. It was heavy. Very heavy, and - it hurt...a lot. I swore. Loudly...and then laughed out loud. Luckily I was wearing my neoprene balaclava so the resulting cut on my head was smaller and less serious than it could have been.
This morning I have woken up with a huge lump on my head. My eye is half closed and I look like an extra from Star Trek. I look so awful that I have banished to the back of the shop so that no customers can see the outcome of dive accidents.
Martin said it was my fault as I should have moved out of the way!
Revenge - which will be mine - will be swift and devilish.