That scar on my ring finger…………

Back in 2006 we were helping the eldest Magpie chick to move flats one Sunday. We had been and had a pleasant lunch at a nearby Italian restaurant and every thing was going well.  Boxes had been packed and The Chick and his friend were off with a load in friend’s car. Lady magpie was vacuum cleaning in the next room. She was using the refurbished Dyson  cleaner that had been rescued  from a skip several months before. (It was a bright purple upright model, Ghastly).

“The cleaner’s smoking!” cam the call from the next room.

“Tell it to stop. It’s bad for it’s health.” I quipped and went next door to see what was wrong.

A brief investigation soon revealed the trouble. There was a  wig’s worth of Magpie Chick’s long hair, not to mention Fiancée’s as well, wrapped around the roller. Easy to solve. Just cut the hair off I thought. Problem! Someone had packed the scissors that i had put to one side “Just in case”. The only sharp implement available was a bread knife.

Things were proceeding quite well until the knife slipped.

I looked down and beheld a large an mount of blood and the top half centimetre of my ring finger flapping in the breeze. I stood up walked into the kitchen and picked up a wad of paper towels, wrapped them around my finger and said something like, “Get the key. We’re going to the Italian restaurant.”


“It’s the nearest place I know that will have a First Aid Kit.”

The chef duly tied up my finger and insisted on calling a cab as he was convinced that the Ambulance wouldn’t come. We went out side to wait.

As we walked out of the door we were nearly knocked over by someone coming in saying,”Have you got a First Aid Kit?”

The poor chef’s face was a picture.

It turned out that the new patient had been by the river and his son was throwing stones into the water and had let one go as he drew his arm back. The stone had flown behind him and cracked his father on the forehead.

More fun was to follow.

The cab duly arrived and transported me to the Hammersmith Hospital. It was an interesting ride as the driver was Afghani and had fled the Taliban with his family so that his daughter could be educated. A long conversation ensued.

At the hospital I was triaged and asked to wait. The department was empty until another  patient arrived, was triaged and sat down to wait.

HE looked across at me,”How did you do yours?” he said, holding up his left hand with a large bandage around the ring finger. I collapsed, laughing at the situation… it turned out that he was an off duty chef who had been preparing a meal for him and his girlfriend and he had sliced into his finger while chopping vegetables. I think my story won, just.

On being called into the treatment room I was attended to by a wonderfully camp male nurse. His response to my apology for bleeding over the floor was,”It’s only a drop.” to which I had to reply with Tony Hancock’s immortal line,” It may only be a drop to you mate but it’s life or death to some poor sod.”

There followed a discussion about various British Comedians, chiefest amongst whom was Kenneth Williams…….

Amidst all the hilarity blood continued to pour from my digit, ” Oh, you are a little bleeder aren’t you?”

To cut a long story short my finger was bound up and compliments sent to the chef, for his first aid and all was well that ended well and my finger is still the same length.

Later I received no sympathy from acquaintances in the Folk Music World…there were suggestions that I should sue Dyson for not pointing out the dangers of cleaning one of their vacuum cleaners with a kitchen knife and Prestige for not pointing out that their knives were not suitable for the cleaning and/or repair of vacuum cleaners. In addition there were jokes about asking the Doctor if I’d be able to play the guitar when I had the bandage removed. Funny because I couldn’t play the guitar before I’d cut myself.

You know what was the funniest thing in all of this? When I eventually got back to the flat I found that lady magpie had cleaned the cleaner ….simply by unwinding the offending hair.

Now why didn’t I think of that?


6 Responses to “That scar on my ring finger…………”

  1. Grannymar Says:

    Because you are a MAN! 😉

  2. bikehikebabe Says:

    You’ve got to have made that up. And if so, you are a powerful fiction writer, because fiction that good is hard to come by. And kudos for comic remarks too.

  3. Maria Says:

    Sometimes truth is stranger than fictiion and this certainly proves it. I must confess I laughed all the way through it when perhaps I should have been more sympathetic. Wonderful post . . . and Grannymar’s are words of womanly wisdom!

  4. Ursula Says:

    Oh, Magpie, rolling both this wonderful story and your ‘Anniversaries’ into one reply I can only conclude that I am probably your long lost twin even if a few years younger than you. But then both our mothers can pull a stunt – or two.

    I am deliriously happy that I am not the only one whose life is ‘eventful’ in a somewhat unconventional way.


    PS Giving further evidence and supporting my theory that we are indeed twins: I too have a knee deep scar on my (left) ring finger. Luckily the knife was so sharp it took me quite a while to even notice that I had cut myself. It didn’t hurt or anything. I just bled like the proverbial. Long story. Freaked out my guests.

  5. magpie11 Says:

    BHB..It is absolutely true….. I forgot to mention that we had earlier lunched at the restaurant and I went back to pass on the message to be met by the proprietress who was amazed that her chef had done something properly making a comment to the effect that this was unusual for a Southern Italian. (which reminds me of another story)

    GM I was of the opinion that speed was really of the essence . Hence the attempt to cut the hair off!

    Maria…. Glad you enjoyed it… I have to say that my memory is of being able to see the funny sides of the situation.

    Ursula, That’s the beauty of keeping cutting tools sharp.They are less likely to slip and when they do they cut cleanly. The scar tissue feels “dead”…fewer nerve-endings I suppose.

    A few months before the above adventure my right Index finger was pierced by a very long thorn whilst helping in a friend’s garden. Off to A&E and, having X-rayed said digit,an attractive lady Doctor from Australia puts in a ring block and digs deep only to retrieve nothing. Five days later out of a very inflamed finger pops a icm (at least) long piece
    thorn…I offered to have it mounted for the friend I was helping but she declined.

    Later I had another injury in the same garden…. I wonder why she wouldn’t let me take down a forty foot sycamore tree? I’m quite capable of doing it…well, I know the theory.

  6. Rummuser Says:

    Because, men are from Mars and women are from Venus.

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