Monday, 20 December 2010


Replayed in slow motion again and again I feel the cold, flat steel of the Swiss Army Knife as it efficiently glides through the flesh of my finger end. The blood was slower to arrive than the cold sweat but when it came it was sufficiently copious to tear me from my reverie (if you can call a waking nightmare that) and get me to hospital. Once the nurse had steri-stripped me back together and I had got my head around the fruits of my stupidity I started to compile the long list of things I could no longer do. Soon enough a few things on the list rose to the surface as things I really was going to miss. Two days ago I tentatively returned to slapping the doghouse bass. The damaged digit is on the finger-board hand so placing it carefully I could get away with playing again albeit a little stilted. A major problem will be unlearning the 3 finger method I've developed in the absence of my first finger. Walking basslines might take a bit longer especially if you want them played in tune but I'm happy to be back playing again.


  1. Bugger, hope you can still make bread !

  2. I did get the wound all doughed up at one point- it's not easy getting dough out of a wound.