I’m going to have to keep this short (hush there, with your loud sighs of relief, please), as I’m typing one-handed.
This is not because I’m changing a nappy or wiping noses at the same time (for once). Nor is it because I’m shoveling snow or chopping logs or training wild boars to pull a sledge full of children (all of which form daily part of my Alpine life. Honest).
Not even because I’m stuffing my face with chocolate. Even though I am.
No, I’m writing this post with only five of the ten typing fingers I am usually blessed with, because I’ve only gone and broken my bloody wrist.