From the Polyclinique, LéhonSunday afternoon.... and Mr.Price somehow manages to run the power drill bit with countersink attachment onto his thumb, while doing a bit of DIY.
Barry Bucknell, for those of us who remember, never told us how to tackle this sort of problem.
At les Urgences the examining doctor says the tendon's damaged and to come back tomorrow for his colleague to look at it "sur le bloc" and I have visions of a butcher scraping down his lump of wood, wearing one of those bloodied aprons with the bits of meat stuck to it.
There's nowhere to park the next morning when I deliver the grumbling Mr Price to his fate, so I dump him- without time for any fond goodbyes- outside the spanking-new clinic in Léhon.
By the afternoon he's sitting up in bed in a first-floor room wearing a fetchingly inadequate paper gown. "One size fits all!" the nurse had said "We'll see!" said he.
Having to visit the Polyclinique has the compensation of great views- from here you can see across to the ruined Norman castle on its mound, the ancient abbey, and to the nearby medieval town of Dinan with its clocktower .
Sitting down to sketch to while away the time, I'm unable to see quite so far, but I'm delighted to have the challenge of drawing some weird angles- looking down on the parked cars on a steep descending slope, then the distant road beyond, climbing upwards. Of course, as if pre-destined, any car I choose to draw will soon have a hurrying figure approach it with a set of keys.... how selfish and unthinking!
Footnote: Mr. P is now on the mend, but unable to wash up for at least three weeks.
The Norman castle ruins, Léhon
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