And if you go chasing rabbits, and you know you're going to fall

It's been a strenuous week with work, and yesterday never seemed to end.

It began with a trip to the doctors for him to take a look at my black toe.  He's my kind of doctor, lays it down straight, and truthful.  The conversation went something like;

"You're training to run 26 miles in April, you're obviously on the long distances, and you're hammering your toe into the ground every time you do it.  Now, it's not infected, it's certainly black, so I recommend you take my commendation in your efforts to want to run 26 miles, run the 26 miles, then put your feet up and don't do it again."

"Will the toenail fall off at all, is there any further treatment required?"

"It's still on there isn't it?  Will it fall off?  Probably, but then it'll grow back again.  Not as good as it was at first though.  Come back and see me in a week."

Some may not like this kind of discussion, it may have an aura of a man who doesn't care too much.  Yet, he's there to make people feel better, and I had a spring in my step when I walked out of his room.

After this, there was a long day in the office, then back home.  Good old home, sweet home.  I walked in around 9pm, and there was Julia informing me that Olive's nursery had made her aware tonight that the next day Olive had to come to nursery dressed as a literary character in celebration of World Book Day.

One was not amused.  I knew what this meant, and it meant exactly that... frantic cutting of fabric; arguing over where our daughters head's going to pop out; searching the place down for the acrylic paint that hasn't been used since the last flat we lived in; the inevitable bout of some form of sewing followed up with some necessary expletives on my behalf, a couple of hours later, we were done.  

Come the morning, Olive was dressed, and I followed the White Rabbit to nursery who was shouting, "I'm late! I'm late! for a very important date!"