The following post is in response to Linda’s Just Jot It January. If you haven’t  already checked it out, please do so. It is a great way to get the blogging juices flowing!

One of the joys of a British winter is often waking up in the morning to a thick coating of frost everywhere. For many of us, this means  standing outside in the freezing cold with a scraper, scratching away with numb fingers. Poor Mr Grump, he did use to suffer out there  whilst I drank my tea, impatiently waiting for my car to be ready! Luckily this year has been much milder and we have only had the odd icy morning.

We took the decorations down on New Year’s Day, and Mr Grump was climbing up on furniture unpinning all the lights that were around the room. I meanwhile was undressing the poor old Christmas tree. I heard a loud ‘thud’ and a bit of swearing, and spun round wondering what had happened. Mr Grump was squatting on the chair clutching his head, frozen in pain. I however, was stuggling to control my lips from twitiching.

He is a bit of a drama  queen when he hurts himself, and was talking through clenched teeth, telling me he hit his head on the celing. I had already gathered this, but him crouching there statue-like, hands over his head was playing havoc with me trying to keep up a sympathetic wife face. I finally managed to prise his hands off his bald pate to see a pinhead sized piece of skin had been scraped off. How disappointing, I thought there might have at least been an egg sized lump after the fuss he made!