DOORFRAME

On Saturday I walked into a doorframe. I just went clunk, ahh! ahhhh, ow! and then rolled around on the carpet clutching my hand to my forehead for a while.

Oh it was properly melodramatic. I made all the pantomime noises, even the one where you take a sharp intake of breath through your teeth in a hiss, not to mention the kind of low-pitched growling cow impression that's two parts pain and one part unbelievable-stupidity.

Gah.

Anyway, I was alright. There was no blood gushing out of my cranium and the mirror showed just a reddened graze below the hairline. I immediately let my friends know, just in case I succumbed to concussion later on. They were very understanding, even when my phone ran out of battery while I ran a bath and I was unable to reply to the handful of 'Are you okay?' messages.

Anyway, as a result of my near-death experience, people have been asking me what I've done to myself.

"Oh it's okay," I say, casually, "I just walked into a door."

Now he's not alone in this response but my manager did raise an eyebrow. Then he asked me something weird:

"Is everything alright at home?" he said, warily.

"Yes it's fine," I replied, "The doors are all... still on their hinges."

"Okay," he said.

I'm not sure he was convinced.