I may have pain. I mean real pain. I may have a broken leg. And fingers. And head.

After a rather pleasant evening, ending for the second night in our local, I sat, once home, on the back of the Sofa in the kitchen. Then, for some reason, leaned back.

My second in command was amused to see my legs fly over my head on my way down to the floor. Regrettably, our cast iron table wasn’t the best of cushions.

Fortunately, I have a bottle of Sam Smith’s oatmeal stout to ease my pain.