Now it's poor Grandpa

Sam: Grandpa bump his head. It's blood really much. But it's OK. My foot is much better too, thank you. :)

Elissa: Grandpa slipped and bashed his head and it was bloody very much. It is OK. We went to the play area and now we have been there three times. I also made a coat/ hat stand for our teddies, because they now have lots of clothes that I have made for them out of plastic from plastic bags.

There's something about where the edge of Erin Mae's hatch comes in relation to my eyeline as I exit when it's half-closed. My best beloved had gone ahead to set the next lock. I'd gone down inside for something before coming back out to close the lock behind me. And the hatch was half-closed because of the occasional showers. Crash! Ouch! Recoiling, I put my foot into the basket with lots of vegetables, tumbled backwards into the kitchen, and added insult to injury by banging my head again against the fridge door. When I finally made it out onto the stern I was dripping considerable amounts of haemoglobin over everywhere. My best beloved, being well trained in the arts of caring for the sick, the bloody and the incompetent, returned and patched me up. The children were gratifyingly concerned for the well-being of their senior relative, and glad to find that the incident did not prevent him buying them an ice-cream at Fradley, nor guiding boat and occupants onwards to the Ash Tree to renew their acquaintance with the pub's climbing apparatus.

Hope I don't leak too much tonight, once horizontal.