Two half-hands are better than one?

Drinks last night at Farenheit with the lads, Brad, Hollywood, and a brief appearance by Ed who still managed to have a few lemon-drops despite the obvious unwillingness of any non-female staff member to serve him. That place is too bloody loud.

At some stage we helped a girl try to find her dropped ring. Eagle-eyed Ed was the hero here, but it was only after moving bar stools and jackets to discover the escapee-jewelry that I noticed she had a cast on her right hand. I showed her mine (*cough*) and we had a laugh and chatted, only to realize that we had broken the right hand on the same Saturday, and were due to get the casts off on the same day next week. How odd. Somehow The Brad failed to get a picture of us pair of invalids.

If I have to be thankful for small mercies, its that I don't have a full-cast, and that mine is shaped to hold a beer.

Image shamelessly lifted from the beautiful galleries at www.alwayscurious.com