I am going to talk about me and my man suffering.
It is now well over three months since my badly timed accident, two hours before I was due to give my talk about Tiggywinkles history to 70 expectant visitors.
Sadly they had to be disappointed as I started a painful recovery.
That still lingers as those ribs still give me gyp, although I am reluctant to mention it.
Time has come to repay the patience of those visitors with a scheduled programme a second edition for another full house for those who could not get tickets to that ill-fated January fiasco.
The team at Tiggys told me they would cover me in bubble-wrap if I misbehaved.
I promised to be on my best behaviour. Promise.
In the meantime I am still progressing my dossier on the needless injuries caused to deer by being caught in standard stock fencing.
I try to go out on all fence rescues to obtain incident photos with the very same camera that broke my ribs all those months ago.
The day before the talk I sneaked out to record the rescue of a muntjac caught in a fence at Towersey.
As I knelt on the floor under the thorny hedge it suddenly hit me “I am giving that talk tomorrow… I must not get injured and I hope nobody tells Sue where I have been.”
She has distinctly told me not to risk going on deer rescues.
Not to worry. We rescued the deer and I got to drive the ambulance back to Tiggys.
That was where it all went wrong. I didn’t realise that the ambulance had a gear stick and a dreaded clutch, which I could not find with my lumbering great boots.
I stalled it four times before finally getting off the farm truck where the deer had been caught.
Stop, start! Stop, start!
The journey back was an adventure but the deer was safe and admitted to Hospital.
Don’t tell Sue!