poor uncle stan

My Uncle Stan's in hospital. Fell 2 floors on to solid concrete. I blame myself. Which is not surprising seeing as it was me that pulled the ladder away. It was just meant to be a joke though, a practical joke, but it backfired on me. They do sometimes practical jokes. I'm gutted though. But he's going to be alright so there's no major harm done. That's what the quack said anyway. Uncle Stan won't see me. Reckons I'm sacked. I think he's going a bit overboard there, I mean, you'd think at his age he'd at least know how to take a joke. It could have been worse at the end of the day. He could have broke both of his legs and all of his ribs. Should count himself lucky in some ways. I blame the drink. I'd have thought twice if I'd have been sober but it was Friday lunchtime, he'd just weighed me out with my wages, and I'd popped in the grapes for a few. Ended up getting a bit carried away and doing 5 pints of stella in an hour. When I got back I was brimming with it. Stan didn't notice because he was already back to work and up the ladder. Or rather, he'd stepped off the ladder and was standing on a window ledge 2 floors up. It was then I pulled it away. I thought he'd notice and the most that'd happen was that he'd get a little riled. He didn't notice. He just stepped blindly out into space with nothing but a 40 ft drop for the poor sod to look forward too. I tried to whip the ladder back under him but it was too late. All I succeeded in doing was lumping the poor sod in the head with it, just adding to his injuries. He hit the concrete like a sack of lead. He didn't move for ages and I thought he was a goner. They brought him round in the ambulance and like I said … he's doing alright now.

on a happier note ... it's grabba granny tonight down at the beta club. looking forward to that. always a nice few painted ladies in there who are up for a waltz. whey hey!