it's been a funny old day

Dad fell again this morning. Luckily, his nose broke his fall. Amazingly, the fall didn't break his nose.

Phone call at 9.30 am - 'hello, it's your dad's neighbour, he's had a fall, can you come down?
'Aye'.
Drive a hundred yards, there's a bleep from the dashboard and a message - 'STOP'. BRAKE FLUID'. (It's a German car, they're good at giving orders).
Surely not? 'Oh ja'.
Phone garage. 'Is it safe to proceed to ze garage?'.
'Are the brakes working?'
'Eh, yes'.
'Proceed to the garage with caution'.
'Aye ok'.
Long story short, the nice people at the garage topped up the brake fluid and I proceeded to dad's, where I was met with blood on the doorstep, blood on the carpet. Oh feck.
Turns out that by the time I got there the neighbours had been, the call-out team had been, the doctor and nurse had been and put an impressive dressing on dad's nose. Only President Hollande had failed to make it, his plane having been struck by lightning.

Dad was amazingly perky. 'I fell', he explained, big globs of blood all over his trousers. 'Ouch, it hurts'.
'No kidding?'. I ditched the blood-soaked favourite green jersey in the bin.
'That's a shame, that was my favourite jersey', he sighed.
'You're lucky still to have your favourite nose', I thought.

Well, I cleaned the front step and the carpet, got some heat rub for his sore shoulder, bought a few provisions and left him in the safe hands of his carer and some pain killers. He's a brave soldier.

Then I went off and consoled myself with a coffee and chocolate tiffin.

If possible, I'd prefer not too many days like this. See you tomorrow dad, you're going too have two lovely black eyes.