Dodging Bullets

Rendezvoused at Fanny's after work with a couple of friends. It should have all been straightforward but only one of us managed to reach the pub unscathed. There was torn skin and muscle. There was blood. And don't think I'm joking. 

At least the mutuality of the misfortune, and the beer, kept us in reasonably good humour during the evening. Later, though, I started to feel seriously pissed off at continuing to find calamity at every other corner. It truly does feel like I'm having to dodge bullets at the moment. And failing.