We decided to go this morning and worship with our friends at the brethren assembly - without contacting them first, of course. The service starts at 10am, and it was a bit of a scramble to get out of the house and catch that 9:18 bus 4 but we made it, Pat striding off like Scott of the Antarctic on a summertime practice session.
We got to the building and found it all locked up. Oh well. So we considered our options and decided to return home. We just missed the return bus 4 and hoofed it off to get the tram from Quinconces. While steaming across the tramlines, Pat tripped, took a tumble and bounced her pate off the hard, hard floor.
I got her up and off the tram lines. We sat for a while and decided to get on the Pessac tram, but that's when the nausea set in. She also had a goodly sized mound on the back of her bonce. So at Victoire we got off the tram and I phoned for medical assistance. A bit of how's your father - how does one say again that one tripped and hit one's head on the floor... all while the street-sweeper machines were noisily clearing Victoire of bottles, cans and plastic glasses. Anyway three charming ambulance men came and carted Pat off to the Clinique Mutualiste.
"Go home and wait for a call. They probably won't keep her in overnight, but when you get her you'll need her passport and her health card."
So I wended my weary way home alone on the tram, fed the kids, ate a mince pie and now I'm waiting for the call.
Meanwhile they've done a head scan, so Pat is waiting to hear their verdict.