Uncle Keith, broken hearts and broken bones

Not a great past few days. Firstly, my Uncle passed away on Wednesday
in Brisbane and I went up there for the funeral on Friday. Very sad as
he was only 56 years old. Its unnatural for someone that young to pass
away and was extremely sad for my Pop who at 80, outlived his oldest
son. Dad gave a eulogy which was very good and he outlined all the good
times that my Uncle had with he and his other brother. It was a "happy"
funeral if you can have that, and he was remembered with some of his
favourite songs (Rolling Stones etc) and his defacto partner of 14 years
Gail gave me his old Vietnam service medals. I was very touched by
that. Uncle Keith never had children and she said it was appropriate
that I have them.



So I flew back to Sydney on Saturday morning, after a heavy night on the
drink with Mum & Dad and my Uncle Geoff and went straight to cricket. I
promptly opened the batting and after a solid start with a boundary and
a couple of singles I got hit square on the toes with the atypical
"sandshoe crusher". I jumped around like a right girl, thought about
retiring hurt, faced another ball, realised my front foot was no longer
working and consequently nicked the ball to first slip.



I hobbled off the field realising I should have retired hurt.
When I took off my boot, the little and second inside toe were
black/purple and clearly broken. Nothing much you can do about it but
hobble about. It hurts to walk, can't drive (its my right foot) and I
can't mow the lawns today as I planned and I have no idea how I will get
on with work tomorrow.



So it looks like a day of watching the cricket on TV.