And the clumsiness continues

Last night, we were walking down my road, when I spied a cat across the road, which I thought might be Bob, the traitorous ex-kitty of mine who went to live with a neighbour. It wasn't him, as it turned out, but I was so busy squinting through the dark at this cat that I managed to walk, with a resounding clang, forehead first into a lamppost. It was so like something out of a bad film, that I couldn't help laughing, even as the tears filled my eyes, while J managed an impressive display of sympathy and concern, which only occasionally dissolved into disbelieving giggles. After careful examination this morning, it appears that I have managed to avoid adding still more bruises to the plethora which already adorn my body, but I should probably start taking a little more care when on the move, before I do myself a serious mischief.