I was naked and being soaped.

It was my first shower in two weeks and boy was it lovely.

The Shoulder has prevented me from getting proper clean as I need to keep the dressing and wound dry. But, so the nurse said, it was healing just beautifully and could now take a gentle wash. So I got The Wife to do just that. She is going to be a wonderful mummy – she washed and dried me perfectly. I kept the dressing on for the shower as she is a bit squeamish. But after drying, I whipped off the wet dressing (eeeek!), dabbed dry the wound (oooo, oooo, oo-oo), gently-gently smeared on Vaseline ([very quietly though pursed lips] whhh-huh-hhhhhhhooo….), fetched and sat Mrs Wife-Nurse down on the bed and gave her the new dressing. She didn’t faint (which was a big plus) and secured the new dressing in pretty much the right place. The fact that she had her eyes shut and is not totally comfortable with the right-left instruction thing meant that it took only three attempts to stick it on. After peeling it off my forehead and the bedside lamp we got the dressing reasonably situated covering most of the area required. Said Wife-Nurse then had a quick lie down while I went to find the Glenmorangie. It does feel lovely to be shower clean and with a fresh dressing on, I must say. Even if I am 3 shades greyer of mop.

There then followed a commando shop in Sainsbury’s (Tossco is cheaper and nearer but, quite frankly, the produce is shoite) which saw me throw the best step I’ve thrown in years – stupid-woman-shopper-with-trolley-not-looking-me-with-dodgy-shoulder-but-still-got-dancey-feet-phew. Some interesting bag carrying technique from me when home (one armed) and then a HUGE stir-fry. Burp.

And a dozen or so pages of Number Nine Dream by Rob Howley. His ‘autobiography’ with Graham Glutton. Picked it up for £2 in Oxfam, my usual book seller and tailor combined. Has, erm, anyone ever seen an after-dinner speech by ‘Howlers’? If you have, can you post a comment below? I would love to hear that he is an urbane-yet-witty raconteur… Number Nine Dreamis a rather apt title. For all the fuss and bother Henson’s book caused, it was at least a revealing, interesting, honest book. And I actually warmed to the guy if for no other reason than he had a pop at that git Woodward. If you ever see me with a copy of Sir Clive’s modestly titled ‘Winning’ it means we’ve run out of two essential commodities in the house: firelighters or Andrex. He didn’t go on to write a book about the Lions Tour to NZ called 'F*cking it Up', did he, eh. Tw@t. Howley's book is rather one-dimensional and not that revealing. Still, it is rugby.

Rather.

I shall close with the interestingly contentious observation that, on recent form, the kiwi’s look suspiciously like they have come all premature. Again…

Read about Skoddy’s haircut post-win. Is he coming back to Wales after the World Cup?

Rumour has it that a certain G. Henry has been linked with the Cardiff Blues, post RWC, too… hmmmm.