The big day. We’d found the house we liked and arranged to sign the contract. As usual, the agent picked us up and let me borrow her motorbike. Within an hour, we’d have somewhere to live and could relax. Or so we thought…
Yes, it did hurt…We set off. Turned the corner. Started down busy Hang Boum Street. Traffic was heavy, and I was riding carefully at the side of the road. Over the space of a matter of seconds, I just see a motorbike coming towards me, overtaking everyone, just missing the bike that Jo was on. The gap next to me surely isn’t wide enough…
BANG!
I stood up, looking and the large hole in my little finger and saying something like: “Ouch, that smarts!” I was outside a police station, and a kind officer tried to stick a band-aid on the hole. Jo, who had been running in slow-motion back down the street, pushed him out the way, and went into nurse-mode. The other guy had already ridden off.
So, no nice new house for me that day. No! Instead, a nice bed in hospital for the night. Jo did sign the contract, but only after I was safely under general anaesthetic while the broken bone was being pinned and my finger sewn back together.
More pictures of Hanoi in November here…
Does this mean you will now permanently have your pinky finger in the air whilst drinking tea and other beverages?
Ouch! Great picture. Hope you weren’t too Hanoi-ed with the other motorcyclist!
think you deserve another postcard for that pun
Jo’s finger in Russia, Darren’s finger in Vietnam…