I return to chez Zuckerberg to get the latest on my shattered shoulder.

It is very swollen and bruised but this is to be expected reassures Dr Catriona. I try to engage her on the novels of Robert Louis Stevenson but she is strangely unexcited. Even when I pull out my trump card of “Oh Davey! Am I no a bonnie fechter!” she insists on droning on about medical stuff. Lots of X rays and another cat-scan.

I also get a t shirt that has poppers along all the seams which allows me to take it off without a pain pass out.

Stern mistress Catriona suggests that it will be months before I will be able to lift anything but thinks amputation is probably no longer on the horizon. She gives me a big bag of Oxycontin.

I return home only to find a family from the Punjab felling a massive cedar in the backyard. They are very skilled!

My greatest concern related to the decimated shoulder is dysentery. I am unable to rise from the horizontal on the bed. I squirm around trying to sit up but to no avail other than great grating of fractures. I cannot get to the toilet. Nurse James has to pull me up.

Amazon to the rescue! Of course they have bedridden people hoists. Of course it comes the morning after I order.

Never a dull moment.