As I write this I’m sat in the Robert Ogden Centre (MacMillan Support), which is part of St James Hospital, Leeds. There is only me and one other person in the waiting room. I’ve written a blog already today, however to fill in the hour waiting for Karen I thought I’d ramble on in another narrative!

Inspiration evades me presently. My situation isn’t helped by my virtual friends, (ipad and a bottle of Buxton water) who aren’t interested in interacting, apart from the bottle asking earlier what time Coronation Street starts tonight. Although, I might have imagined that as that couldn’t possibly happen. The bottle of water doesn’t like Coronation Street; additionally its not on tonight!

As I sit here I berate myself. Surely I can think of something of more interesting than the TV viewing habits of a bottle of Buxton water. Can I get any literary mileage out of the tale when I injured my right big toe the other day. It’s not that interesting really but I really struggling here!

The story of my damaged toe revolves around an incident that occurred whilst asleep, dreaming I was playing football. It was a two aside game on an indoor six-a-side pitch. My team mate was my brother Ian.

Our Ian is a great footballer, or he was until he rented out his scrotum to a family of gypsies! He has lost a yard or two of pace since then! That being said, I can see how he failed his UEFA coaching badge. He wanted us to play in a 4-4-2 formation with only two players!

Despite my confusion over the tactics, we were playing well and winning comfortably. Although there was a brief stoppage when the gypsies stole the football!  I don’t recall who our opponents were but one of them had a parrot on his shoulder! So really they had three against our two players (unless you count Ian’s gypsies!), so mine and his lead was even more impressive!

My injury came about as i raced down the right wing and attempted to cross the ball to my bruv who’d lost his marker (the bloke with the parrot). Unfortunately, as I went to kick the ball in my dream I hoofed the wall beside my bed in the conscious world!

The pain of ‘leathering’ the wall and stubbing my toe woke me from my slumber. I cursed my luck at my unorthodox awakening, As I continued to emerge from my disorientated state, I’m sure I saw the parrot in the corner of my bedroom!

He cruelly ridiculing my injury with an obscene wing gesture and a squawk that I cant repeat before the 9pm watershed!

I growled back at him like the wounded lion in the other corner of the room did earlier when he heard that Leeds Utd had lost again. I should have mentioned that lion was a Leeds fan by the way. It was wounded as he just been sedated by air rifle, after frightening my wife to death when it came out of one of our wardrobes!

God knows where Karen got the air rifle and the sedation dart from! ……….. With her current unpredictability, it might be wise to reel in my winding up of her for a while, me thinks!…….. Actually, fuck knows how the lion materialised in the wardrobe also!……. I best check the wardrobe doesn’t lead to Narnia or I might have a flaming witch pop out next!

Anyway, thankfully I didn’t break my right foot’s largest toe and, apart from slight discomfort now and again, it has generally recovered! The lion is also in a better shape following recovery from the sedation and now supports Manchester City!………. Chuffing glory hunter!

I thought it was typical a dream in which I injured my toe came true! Why couldn’t it have been the recurring one I have about Margot Robbie?! Oh well, that’s life as Esther Rantzen used to say!

Karen’s out of her treatment now. Time to drive home in the teaming rain!