In the all-time list of dangerous things to do, sitting in your garden, sipping a glass of juice and watching cricket on TV must rank pretty near the bottom.
That’s how I spent my Sunday ... and that’s how I ended up off work on Monday.
In a scene you are more likely to see in a children’s cartoon, a freak gust of window caught our parasol and lifted it out of its mooring. My clumsy attempt at catching it only succeeded in bringing it back down on to the glass table top, shattering it into thousands of pieces.
Once the initial shock had subsided, I noticed an alarming amount of blood pouring from my foot.
Now, if this HAD been a cartoon, we would have quickly moved on to the next scene where my injury would have miraculously healed and the table would be restored to its former glory.
Not so in real life, where copious amounts of cold water and kitchen towels were involved in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
Some sense of normality restored, my wife took pictures of the scene and posted them on Facebook.
Soon her phone started beeping away as concerned friends replied.
‘‘What are they saying about my foot?’’ I ventured.
‘‘Oh, I forgot to mention that,’’ came the reply.