Ian came over with a whole lot of sashes and a pair of handcuffs tonight, saying he was going to tie me to the bed and molest me. OK, I’m up for that. Got me all tied up, molested me a little, finished his own business, and then announced he had to go. The trouble was, at that stage he realised he hadn’t brought the key for the handcuffs. He started to panic (soon after me), and said he really had to go, or his wife would be wondering where he was. So, he yelled down to Agnes to come and help me, firstly covering me up with a sheet. He’s thoughtful like that.
Agnes arrived in quick time and sawed through the chain with much difficulty using a bow saw from the garage. Then, I drove to the local hospital’s Emergency Department to get them to cut the handcuffs off my wrists. I couldn’t go to work like that tomorrow. For some reason the triage nurse didn’t classify my plight as an emergency, so I had to sit there in public view for about three hours, doing my best to hide my wrists. Finally, a smirking doctor cut them off for me. It took him about two minutes. Surely, they could have done that two hours earlier.