I had just neatly and painfully removed half a fingernail with a mandoline, and was in the middle of a spirited discussion with Mr Z about whether one adult can ban another from using kitchen equipment, when my stepmother texted. She’s a relentless looker on the bright side, and the bright side was that she hadn’t lost any teeth. “And my face is fine,” she continued. Softly, softly catchee information, where people like this are concerned. It was ages before I found out what had actually happened – which was that she had tripped on the way back from the shops, broken both her knees and spent a night in hospital.
Huh. I wrote a piece about breaking bones in later life, I told her. The way to prevent it is to go back three decades and supplement your aerobic fitness regime with strength training. I was trying to make her explode with indignation; I thought it would take her mind off things. But she just replied with a mild: “Probably.” I guess she was on a lot of painkillers.
