I've broken my arse

On Friday last week we had some work drinks here to celebrate the departure of one of the Aussies who is going to our Washington office to work for a bit. So I partook of a glass of wine or two, and then on my way home Stu called to say that he was having work drinks and there was a card behind the bar, and that I should join them.

I woke up on Saturday with somewhat hazy memories and a very sore behind. Neither Stu or I could think of anything to explain sore behind, so put I put it down to experience and proceeded to be verrrrrrrrry careful getting in and out of chairs for the rest of the week.

Yesterday, Stu had a work meeting, and one of his colleagues enquired as to the state of my bottom. He was naturally a bit surprised, and somewhat curious, and asked for the reason behind the question.

Turns out that as I was walking away from the bar, I skidded in a wet patch, and landed tailbone first on the little foot railing thing that some bars have. I am quite pleased I cannot remember this event, as my arse is still so sore now that it must have REALLY hurt at the time.

So I'm adding a bruised coccyx to my collection of random drinking injuries collected over the years, including but not limited to bruises, fractured nose, a black eye and concussion.

We're off to be tourists this weekend, going for a night's break in a chintzy B&B in a wee town with lots of vowels (Toowoomba) which is about 130k west of Brisbane. I am very excited, and will update you next week!

Until then, me and my broken arse wish you well.