shysal thanks for that advice. I rarely make pastry but next time, I'll use the paper.
MissAdventure Some time ago I fell in my garage and damaged goodness-knows-what in my bum and it took over a year before I could sit anywhere, even temporarily, in comfort.
Gave a whole new meaning to running buffet.
Too long at my computer still give me a pain in the bum. And that's not counting the constant complainers.....poor souls.
I wish it was as easy to soak your fundament in Epsom Salts, as it is your feet.
MissAdventure - come on Lass, fill in that form, we've already had a spell without you on GN and we don't want it to happen again.
If nowt else, get mad with me for calling you 'Lass' !! 
Mr R is watching his favourite football team on his ipad and they are losing
You'd think the end of the world was looming.......I wish he'd just shut up! 
Ah well, I suppose it comes to everyone eventually.
Last night I flung my knickers into the toilet and tried to flush the adjacent laundry basket. 
Today's disaster - well, not really but it bled a lot. I put this gory bit first in case you don't want to read any further.
I wanted to move a very heavy, 6ft long refectory table from my deck.
It was made 25 years ago by a lovely friend who specialised in mediaeval style furniture of extremely solid construction with no nails, just pegs to keep it all together.
It was originally placed there by two strong men, solid as oxen; I am just one fat old woman. But very stubborn.
Had I known at the time my weight-lifting son was visiting tomorrow, I might have left it so we could lift it together but I didn't. On the other hand, when I get a bee in my bonnet about something and I'm trying to prove to myself that I'm not old....
So, puffing and panting (the first half minute did that), I first upended the thing (I should really enter for the next Iron Woman competition) with the idea of 'walking' it, corner by corner across the deck, into my house, across the living room and out of the front door, down the drive and to the adjacent public walkway. (I'll explain why in a moment, don't stop me when I'm on a roll).
To get the table from the deck, I had to negotiate the channel my ranch-slider windows slide along.
And that was my undoing.
The table was balanced not as is its natural habit horizontally, but vertically on one of its (rotting) legs
I lost concentration for a moment, the table slipped and crashed onto my arthritic toes.
You have my word I did NOT swear, scream or shout. I could barely breathe let alone curse. There was a LOT of blood.
But I'm not a Yorkshire Lass for nowt, so bleeding freely from the little piggy that went to market and the one who had roast beef (rare by the looks of it), I upended the dratted thing once more and 'walked' it outside.
I turned it back onto its legs and dragged it a few inches at a time and it made the weirdest sound, like a bronchial brontosaurus breathing. Huuuuuuh, huuuuuh, huuuuh.
My neighbour came out, slightly disconcerted that the breathing was mine and asked if I needed help, bless his heart but I was almost at the fence.
Besides, he usually keeps me supplied with greens from his garden and I'm not sure how easy it is to bend if you rupture yourself.
Having got the table to the walkway, I hammered a piece of paper into the table (it was very windy and raining by this time) and wrote: "Free for Firewood".
It was gone in 10 minutes.
I can't actually see my toes but I dripped a bit of Tea Tree oil onto them and I'm hoping my next post here won't be about necropathy.
Ooops forgot - this is the style of table but it's very small and looks flimsy by comparison to my great hulking thing.
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