The day that just keeps on giving...
A reader writes: "Jerry, my long-haired Jack Russell, got into a drum of waste oil while I was working in my farm shed. I ran back to the house carrying him so I could wash him but I tripped and fell, badly twisting my knee and ankle. I am a solo farmer and there was no one around to help me, so in pain I dragged myself to the laundry and washed the dog. I then hobbled into the house with Jerry following me so that I could ice my injuries. I am on the floor in agony with ice on my leg and I look up to see Jerry is on the carpet, vomiting his guts out! I ring the vet clinic and they tell me to bring him in urgently. I am torn between saving the dog or the carpet! I ring the insurance company to try and explain that the dog vomited waste oil on the carpet, and they refer me onto a carpet cleaner [urgently!] who tells me to "stay put" - they are on their way. Fortunately the carpet cleaner arrives very quickly, so I race off to the vet with a very sick Jerry. He is given fluids and is fine to go home. Phew! I then get a call from my sister to tell me my brother-in-law has fallen four metres onto concrete and is badly hurt, so I drop Jerry off at home and race up to the hospital to check on my brother-in-law. I cannot find a close car park. So I take what I can get. I manage to get to the emergency department to check on my brother-in-law. He is not great, but will live. I leave and drag my sorry arse [very bloody sorry by this stage], down the corridor to the car park. A doctor goes past and checks to see if I need help, and I say I am off to A & E, which is a drive from the hospital ... An orderly runs past with a wheelchair and runs me down to the car park. I struggle out of the chair [yes I am in agony!] and limp down the dark street in the pouring rain to my car. I drive to A&E, wait for two hours, get X-rayed, put into a moon boot, given crutches and sent on my way home. I get home at 9.30 pm. Very hungry, cold, sore and tired!!! I look forward to a nice dinner, but the only thing in the fridge is Jerry's dog meat. I go to bed hungry, hoping tomorrow will go a little easier on me."
Asking the key questions
"My 84-year-old mother recently bought her first computer," writes a reader. "Phone support conversations are challenging and usually go something like this: "I typed their name into the box but their email doesn't come up"..."It doesn't work like Google. You are going to have to call them and ask for their email address"..."Well that's stupid!"
