Tuesday morning was fine, a slightly sore leg which I could easily ignore, and which was reasonably easily squashed into a compression sock and a boot. The problem was that it tended to get worse and worse over the day as I stood around on it, and then recover overnight while I slept - Wednesday, which was three separate lectures on my feet and two meetings during which I couldn't hook my foot up onto the desk, it was moderately agonising by about 2pm, hence the doctor's visit on Thursday immediately after my final lecture of the week. (The whole thing has been exacerbated by a completely mad week, Thursday was the first time I could actually fit in a dash to the doctor). The antibiotic and most of a day on the sofa has punctured the hell out of the pufferfish in short order, I have an almost normal-shaped foot again and all the angry red rash stuff is dying away. Hooray! So I am actually mostly fine, thank you, and not horizontally incapacitated enough to be deserving of emergency digestive biscuits. Today on the sofa should settle the pufferfish's hash fairly terminally. And with a fine mixture of metaphor.

I do enjoy these intermittent tree lobsters, the last Hollywood-scripting one made me snerkle madly. This one is about technology and Victorianism, both of which are also way up my alley, so thank you! And hee.