It had happened again.
Harold had stuck his ear back on yesterday and this morning it lay on his pillow again. But he didn’t have time to struggle with it. He pulled on a hat, kissed his wife, and went to work.
Throughout the week, more bits cast themselves off at the most inconvenient times. He lost a few fingers in Starbucks and a foot in Tesco. It was rather careless, he admitted. His wife said he should file a report with the police or take some rest. But Harold didn’t want to bother anybody and said they’ll turn up in good time.
By the end of the week, his legs had run off. But he felt fine, he said. He didn’t have time to stop. Work was getting out of hand; it was year-end. Several of his team were off sick, if he wasn’t going to cover for them, who was?
Calmness was called for, he told his wife, the last thing he wanted was to lose his job.