And this time it is not the big boy …

…cat. 

After a great start to the day with loads of sunshine and attention devoted to the animals in our charge, Mick set light to another bonfire. It was pretty hard to start as the leaves were so wet but he added some “woof wood” (AKA petrol) and it got going. 

He then spent some time walking the sheep and rubbing their heads, which they seemed to like he assured me. He is worried they are hungry but they have loads of hay and I think they are just spoilt. If they spot one of us they both start baa-ing; they are training him I think. 

Mick has also been worried about the chooks’ egg shells being too soft, so he has been crushing up his discarded oyster shells for them. He thinks that they will get extra calcium from the oyster shells for their own eggs, and he is probably correct. 

Where is all this leading? Well, Mick’s concern for the animals landed him in trouble. 

Yesterday afternoon on dusk when all the animals were back in their yards, Mick decided to tidy up the scraps from his oyster shell crushing area, only to miss his footing and land very hard on his right ankle.  

The first thing I heard was the metal bucket clanging and Mick calling out in pain. You can see why. 

The spot of blood on his shin was from a previous accident, but it is important to point that out for later in the story. 

I convinced Mick he needed to see a doctor, and thankfully Plumb Bob had explained how to do this on one of his many visits to help with the rat-chewed pipes. 

We arrived at the doctor’s surgery at 5.10pm and Mick was third in line, but his seat was hidden behind the door into the waiting room. I left him on his own after half an hour to go home and check on the fire.  He was still third in line. 

When I returned, Mick was still in the waiting room but no longer behind the door as the nice little old lady with the non-stop cough who arrived after us had gone in ahead of him. There had been no “après vous” or even a sideways glance and Mick wasn’t happy but he had worked out what to do. 

We both went in to see Dr Eduard as I had brushed up on a new phrase for “falling down the steps” and I had my wallet. When Mick limped in, Dr Eduard focussed in on the dried blood on Mick’s shin, which Mick quickly explained was not the reason for coming to see him and waiting for almost an hour and in fact it was his very swollen ankle. 

Actually, the doctor was Belgian and could speak very good English. When he discovered we were Australian he talked to us about the TV show Neighbours where everyone seems to have a good time and sip cocktails (which sounded more like Columba Place actually), and how he had thought about joining the Flying Doctors but was afraid of snakes etc etc. At this point we realised why it had taken 60 minutes to see 3 patients – he loves to chat. 

His diagnosis was the same as Mick’s – not broken but badly sprained, so he wrote a script for an ankle guard and anti inflammatory gel and happily took our €23. This is Mick’s interpretation of the visit …

After some pain killers and excellent red wine, Mick slept very well. 

We headed down the hill this morning to buy the items Dr Eduard had recommended. 

My French was better than the pharmacist’s English and what should have been fairly straightforward turned into a challenge. Mick was firstly instructed not to shut the door as he came in, apparently it is a sign she is open regardless of the outside temperature. He was then instructed to sit while she told me, in French, how to fit the guard to Mick’s foot. It was like a “three-ringed circus” because she thought she knew how to use it, but Blind Freddy could tell from the photo her way was not correct. Mick patiently sat there until the guard was on  and once I paid for it we were out of there. Luckily the instructions were also in English and Mick worked out the correct way to wear the guard once we got home. 

And now we are waiting to see how long it takes before .……

• Mick doesn’t do as he’s been told to and stay off the bloody ankle 
• Mick decides he’s such a quick healer that he can take the bloody sheep for a walk
• Mick can actually put a shoe on that foot.

It has meant we will have the last few days at home – sadly no more excursions although Mick won’t let me cancel our reservation for the New Year’s buffet at our local bar yet. 

We’ll wait and see.