John,
Poor you. I commiserate too. I missed my footing and fell down a flight of stairs back in January; next day I felt as if I'd been hit by a train. It was truly awful.
Added to your unfortunate tumble, we got thrashed at cricket by Bangladesh -- you are really suffering, my friend!!!! :eek:

Bob re post #87,
Over here we always used to refer to them as ''Body warmers'' which is a bit daft, I suppose, because any item of clothing could be called a body warmer --- but then it became fashionable to call that particular type of apparel a ''gilet''. That makes more sense . . . and it is a nice word, as Annie said (though a vest in the US is what we call a waistcoat, which is a different garment altogether).

A bit more (albeit trivial) good news, but no one said the good news had to be something earth-shattering! :

I've finally finished knitting a jacket in very chunky wool, using needles the thickness of broom handles, after . . . Oh, it has to be seven years since I started it . . . and all I have to do now is sew it together.

(So I might be wearing it in five years' time!! :rolleyes:)

Jayne

Thank you, fellow oldsters for your kind words. You should see the purple bruises. I shall be pushing a Dyson about on Wednesday nonwithstanding.

Re Bangladesh. It's our gift to the poor world much better than Aid.. Losing 10 wickets for 58 is bad, but Australia bowked us out for 52, in 1948 and the West Indies for 43 not so long ago. On the other hand we have done it to them, and not so long ago. A bad day at the office, no more.

A rugby team recently lost by more than 100 points.I wish I could remember who that was.

John, Jayne, and any others with bruises or worse,

My sympathies! Something like that happened to me this past March, breaking a foot, so I kind of know what you've been through. And then after graduating from the boot, I had the Summer of Lace-Up Shoes.

The good news is that after six months of following doctor's orders, taking extra Vitamin D, and doing special exercises, everything seemed to be back to normal. Let's hear it for Vitamin D!

Claudia

We take longer to heal as we get older, but at least we're all still in one piece!

That's Good News, for sure :D

Tomorrow I'm going to the funeral of a lovely man; he died on his 80th birthday a week last Saturday, but he went out on a high - after a big party in a London hotel, with all his family there. From what he said to me just two days before, I know that's what he wanted, . . . so even that is Good News in a way, I suppose. (I'll still shed a tear for him though.)

Jayne

Not exactly good news, but there is a key-finding thingy you can buy. One part goes on your key-ring. The other part has a button which, when pressed, causes your key-ring to beep wherever it may be.

The bad news is when you can't find the second bit . . .

Haha, yes indeed Brian!

Perhaps the day will come when one can have an implant in the wrist of the second bit. . . along with credit card info, medical conditions, next of kin contact details etc?

I got a prompt (1 day) dental appointment to have my dislodged crown superglued back into place.
May everyone else needing urgent attention receive it, too.

Last winter, I enjoyed the lack of really cold air. I enjoyed watching squirrels eating acorns from the oak tree in my front yard—until I woke one morning and my truck wouldn't start. Dead. Dead. Dead. It seems the squirrels liked the space between the firewall and the engine, and they also acquired a taste for insulated copper wiring. Two-hundred fifty dollars later, my truck started again. Sorrowfully, I had blamed all of this on field mice which inspired me to write a metrical Billy Collins poem. Another year has passed and on the way to the doctor, whom I've seen too much of this year, the truck began to malfunction. It limped back home some hours later, and yesterday my buddy opened the hood to find another nest, same place, same chewed wires. We cleaned it out. I bought his lunch, which was way less expensive than $250 smackers. So, today when the fox squirrel came, I shot him in the head with my .22 caliber rifle, skint his hide, fried him for supper with french fries and drippin' gravy. I'm not sure if he was the single offender. I am on the prowl. Supper was very good.

Charlie--I don't know what to say...

But my firstborn got into college! With a nice scholarship to cut the price quite a bit. Now, it may or may not be the college she attends, but it would be a fine place and it's the first answer she's had. She's thrilled, and we're very proud.

Charlie - are the nests of mice and squirrels really that similar...? And you a country boy...? Perhaps a calmer investigation of the circumstances would have saved a life, as would a bit of basic maintenance on that truck in the intervening year...?

But what do I know; I'm just a sad old hippie having to come to terms with other people's definitions of Good News as best I can.

Simon, will you tell your firstborn that someone a million miles away raised a cup of British tea to her success. May the offers keep rolling in.