Well, I'm writing this entry from back home London in a development I didn't expect to happen. Three days ago I wondered downstairs in the pitch dark and managed to throw myself down the stairs in spectacular fashion. Next day with an ankle the size of a balloon a friend and I drove down to the hospital. A high tech x-ray, or as the french call it a radio, and lots of wild gesturing followed. No fracture, ligament, ligament. Before being sent down to a Dr P who ordered a nurse to whack a huge cast on, prescribed me some scary, self injecting, blood thinning medicine and then waved a credit card machine under my nose while informing my friend in french that my european health insurance card didn't work here. So I hobbled out on a nifty pair of german crutches, a box full of injections, two hundred euros poorer and cursing myself for not taking out travel insurance. Mindful of Dr P's promise of a larger cast and more medicine in 2 weeks I took the distinctly cheaper option and hopped on a plane back home. I'll be returning to Rennes as soon as I can walk and this time with travel insurance!
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