Whilst not in direct competition with the digital surfers who come across my site with weird and obscure search terms, I thought I’d give those boffins oiling the gears of the oodle doodle search engine a bit of a Murray return.
Injuries by a rubber mallet served up some surprising results and none more so than the wonderfully titled injury suffered by baseball players known as Mallet Finger. Here’s the link to everything you need to know about Mallet Finger if you feel the need, http://www.wisegeek.com/what-is-a-mallet-finger.htm

Too much time on his hands, I hear you say. Well, yes. Time and more specifically on the left hand a blue splint provided courtesy of A and E which is currently trying to do the job that my ligaments should be doing. It’s a long story but as a tease it involves an accountant, a drug, an ambulance, an insect and a spade. I may tell all one day but for now, suffice to say, the thumb looks like an extra from Wallace and Gromit and the radial nerve is doing a super job at disabling my whole arm. I’m hoping a visit to the consultant on Monday will alleviate my current daytime TV misery – It’s amazing how everything suddenly becomes a mountain and even with a mixture of Codeine, Paracetamol and Naproxen, anything other than watching Shane from Boyzone choose a new house in the country is proving a little too taxing.

The whole incident has reminded me of the career defining moment seven years ago when I was just finishing building a garden wall and becoming a little over confident with the use of the rubber mallet to tap stones into place. That time my thumb was in the wrong place at the wrong time and the block of rubber bounced off the tip leaving a shattered bone in its wake. I’m told it’s the same phenomenon that causes stadiums to crumble as the concrete fails against the movement of the crowd (don’t worry folks; the problem has now been designed out). Where a metal hammer just hurts, a rubber mallet will send shockwaves through the hand shattering bones and causing pain that even several pints of beer will be unable to moderate. On that occasion I couldn’t remember having a bet with the nurse but she seemed pleased with her success following the return of the x-rays in the sobering daylight.

Discovering new music is always a real delight. As a teenager it was fantastic to stumble across a band and then spend however many weeks it took to beg, borrow and sometimes buy all their previous releases. Age, together with a spotty computer crashing site, does limit this opportunity of discovery but every so often a band or artist comes along that deserves the investment. The National was probably the last band which sent me on a journey of discovery to see how a group of musicians had got to a place where chords and time changes sent hairs on neck skywards. Check out Terrible Love if not convinced.

Today the baton is handed to Peter Bruntnell following his new release, Retrospective. I’m wholly aware that his music will now be forever associated with splints, pain and suffering but with the tantalising prospect of the Azores high coming to visit together with the hammock needing to be aired then I’m sure he won’t mind me hitching a lift through his back catalogue.