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Saturday, 4 February 2012

9432: three small glasses of rum

The elderly gentleman glanced at his watch umpteen times while he's in the department.

"Are you in a rush to get home, sir?" I asked, wondering why he is so anxious.

"Well, yes, you see if my wife gets home and couldn't find me she'll panic. I need to get home before she does."

"Ah. You had a nasty bump on your head though, we'll need to look at that first."

"Oh I'll be fine. I don't need anything done. No stitches."

"We can always give your wife a call to let her know you're here?"

"No it's okay I'll be fine. I just need to get home."

Eventually managed to convince him to stay until the wound was stitched, and he ran back home right away, still slightly staggery. Unfortunately for him though, I don't think his wife won't notice all his blood-soaked and dirty clothes. Guessing he must be worried he'll get an earful back home for drinking too much and 'slipping'.

Tsk. Men.

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