Sore Thumb.

Today was not a good day. Today, at work, I managed to set fire to my right thumb with a blowtorch. It wasn't one of your girlie ones that chefs use to brown a meringue with. It was proper blowtorch which was attached to a five-foot tall bright orange canister full of propane. The lighting mechanism (a spark like you get on your cooker) wasn't working, and we needed fire to do the job we were told to do. I borrowed my colleague's cigarette lighter, turned the gas valve and proceeded to light it. I didn't get my hand out of the way in time, and cooked my thumb. I think I beat my record for the amount of times I can say 'fuck' in one sentence, which is a lot. (although I don't think you can call it a sentence if it mostly consists of one repeated expletive.) It was one of those accidents in which you're scared to look at the wound for a good ten minutes after it happened, but when you do, the injury is a bit rubbish. I was afraid I'd totally melted my wanking spanner, but I don't even have a good blister to show anyone! My thumb looks a little bit like a pork scratching (one of the good ones with a hair still attached!) a little bit red and puffy, but it doesn't look that bad. It hurts like fuck, but it doesn't look bad.

All in all, a good start to the week, especially after the weird weekend I've had, which I might talk about one day.