Hugh Paxton in agony


Hugh Paxton’s blog forgot to post this. Probably the pain! Anyway here it comes – a genuine excuse for lack of response.


Saturday morning would have been cute if all the strange language my daughter and I habitually indulge in during quality time had subtitles.

As it stands its rather ours and mutates at a speed that would shame an aggressively peculiar retrovirus

Everything went to hell in the afternoon while I was trying to foolishly beat here in nifty moves in a one to one footie tournament on an algae slimed tile porch affair ensnared with traps – bicycles, plant pots, Buddha statues, dog bowls, cat bowls, rabbit bowls… and a tricycle! We haven’t had a tricycle here ever!

I took my eye off the ball – there was a distracting screech of outrage from a bird that was nesting – and the algae was on Annabel’s side and bimey I slipped over.

Fortunately some ornamental logs I had inserted to add character to my pond broke my fall. Instead of tumbling into the pond I broke my upper right arm. Snapped neat and clean!

And that might have been that. But I attempted to stand and regain some element of control over this utter agony then realized my right hand, my writing hand was paralysed. It filled me, really filled me with horror!

Not content with this option I decided to master my nervous system and re-establish order but without my significant hand and my equally significant hand and arms and the rest of simply didn’t doesn’t – doesn’t work.

I veered off and dislocated my shoulder. This came as a boost to my broken arm. And then still being confused, I hit the back of my head on a wall. It happened in mere seconds.

They say slow motion is for traffic accidents and there’s perhaps a degree of truth to this when it comes to car crashes. I remember cursing this hideously Christian Science teacher. She drove like a fury, smuggled her own orange juice into pubs with a “fooled ya!” smirk and volunteered at old people’s homes.

Our vehicle pretty much wiped 100 meters of ancient hedgerows and the angry farmers directed their fury at me! They assumed that as a male I’d been driving.

I’m going to sleep. I’ll tell you the rest of this grisly tale tomorrow.

Cheers from Bangkok


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