Since my accident I've been reassessing the way I deal with everyday problems -- the things that get me wound up, the things that grate.
The philosophy I've adopted can be summarised, crudely, thus: "Don't sweat the small stuff because tomorrow you could get your other leg blown off by a landmine." OK, so I never claimed to be Plato but it works for me.
My arrival back at my parents house in Cardiff, however, shattered my newly acquired state of Zen calm.
Waiting for me was a letter from the Inland Revenue, informing me that I'd been fined £100 because I hadn't filled in my tax return for the financial year ending April 2003. April, eh.....hang on, Mr Taxman, let me just look back at my diary.....ah yes, April...it seems a long time ago now but I remember now. I'D JUST HAD MY LEG BLOWN OFF YOU BOWLER-HATTED, PEN-PUSHING PRICK. I wouldn't mind but I wrote and told them months ago.
I have said something to this effect in my letter of appeal. I await their reply with some interest.