Last weekend, as you may remember, was a bit wet. Indeed the Saturday was said to be the wettest day of the winter here in Norfolk. That was the day we decided to clear up a few cock pheasants before the end of the shooting season.
Needless to say our strong land clung to our rubber boots. It was like walking with four stone weights attached to your feet. This didn't help the shooting and there are still rather more long tailoed birds roaming around the farm than there should be.
At one point in the afternoon I was walking down a farm track where there were deep puddles. I took advantage of the water to try to wash some of the mud off my boots. What I had not expected was that there would be bricks under the surface of the water - the remains of some attempt to repair the road - and I tripped on one.
I fell, like a sack of potatoes, into the puddle around which was thick and sticky mud. By the time I had rolled about a bit to get up I was smothered in mud and my waterproof clothes had demonstrated their limitations. I also cut and bruised my knee on another brick under the water. Some members of the shooting party thought all this was very funny. I found it difficult to agree.
A couple of days later a was eating lunch and suddenly felt a back tooth break off level with my gum. It didn't hurt much but I thought I had better get the root removed. I phoned my dentist and she fitted me in the next day.
I thought she would be able to hoik it out without a problem and perhaps without an injection. How wrong could I be. Three quarters of an hour after I sat in the dentists chair and after much pulling and wriggling accompanied by quite a lot of pain, the root emerged. My dentist held it up in the pliers and said "Its a boy". Once again I did not really see the funny side.
Then two days ago I developed a head cold. My nose streamed, my head ached, I could not breath. And it has since gone onto my throat and chest leaving me unable to speak properly. I suspect I shall loose my voice. It hasn't been a very good week!