Sinister: don't mess with flintof {is it the right spelling?}

[s.santabarbara at xxx.uk]

My Dear Sinisters and Sinistines


	Talking about injuries. I generally get injured quite easily, hence can’t
rather classify how bad they were. I suppose falling from a stage about one
meter high in a state of drunken dazyness has probably be the most entertaining
for the audience. Because, as a bad habit, I tend to produce the screw up
things at the very best only in the most embarrassing situation I could even
think of. Being carried to the emergency in a countryside hospital at about two
o’clock in the morning by another couple of not particularly healthy characters
could have been rather amusing as well, if I could remember much. If I could
trust my sources, which are as good as the one the mister of defence rely on, I
guess, I fell of my on feet, or let’s say the support I was counting on
disappeared suddenly, because they got fairly scared by the “gendarmerie”

well, in our country we still have this chaps, essentially a military police,
that goes around with blue cars at night, but are not generally reason of
concern, unless you are driving, and you had quite a bit of boozes. Not driving
myself, or well, avoiding to drive as much as I can for my and the humanity
safety, I can’ say I have any personal apprehension when I see one of those
cars, they don’t generally bother to stop you anyway.. however, my company of
the evening was scared enough to decide to find shelter in a car park, although
we were just walking and there is absolutely nothing to be scare of walking at
night in the middle of the fields, apart from wolfs, that are long
extinguished, and some other maniac like you who doesn’t precisely remember how
to get hoe. To cut a long story short, I managed to break my nose, and have
random stitches at end over my face, still don’t know how. Well, the doctor at
the emergency put them, but the primary cause is extremely unclear. Not that I
can remember r does actually matter, but the ‘company’ allegedly try to stop
the bleeding by wobbling the rather inert body in a freezing cold washing
fountains of an even more minute village a few miles of my town. That was
something for the gendarmerie to be looked after, as they could have been
sicars a very clandestine and scary criminal gang trying to get some top secret
information out of the wrong person who just happen to be drunk enough to look
as a spy. It happened that I did not drawn in the fountain for a pure
causality. But. Together with the stitches I had a flu as a bonus.
	I still can’t believe that the people I was working for would accept the
unlikely explanation that I fell of the bike. Even that happened quite a number
of time in real life, and is rather painful indeed.
	At least I learned I had to be a lot more suspicious about the people I was
hanging around with than the police. However, both of them proved to be rather
useless. At least I am not the only one.
	As matter of fact, I would say, that being heartbroken is more painful than
having a couple of stitches in you face, they recover quickly and hurt less, so
if you want to go to heaven, be a nice girl/boy
 whatever is your preference


	For the much I managed to inflict quite a pit of sore scares to my own self, I
‘ve never been that good to do the same to a third party, even if I think I
should have in some occasion.
	Until recently, when I developed a passion from cricket.
	Apparently is a game appreciated by sad gits, therefore I fully fulfil the
requirement for the category.
	We had a ‘one-day’ mach with people from the department with some guys working
in material science, the building just opposite.
	There is this guy, which is REALLY always angry. He should really take a few
valium pills
 and was kind of taking the piss of our score and stuff as they
essentially shore three hundred thousand
 I must admit my bowling action can’t
be defined as smooth, but, might be a bit unconventional but I’m rather
aggressive when it come to get a bat in my hand
(is it a way to manifest some
frustration?
mhmhmh  might be
). Things wanted that I had to bat and this
character bowl, which was a ill-fated combination, because the bugger decided
to essentially hit whoever was on wicket the have him off, which is part of the
game, but not so fair if you’re have a game for fun
 I ended up limping for a
couple of days as I got the damned ball banging on my left harm and left knee,
which was particularly not nice
{talking about injuries
 however he slipped one
of the ball, was so slow that I had all the time to see from where it was
coming and precisely where I wanted to go
 I actually targeted his head but
just got into his chest: nice shot!
	Two weeks hospital for the chap {broken ribs, shame, only}, and I’ll tell you
something, I don’t regret it and even scored 3 runs! Which is what matters
most. We lost by about 50 runs.

	I can’t think about playing rugby!

	Have a nice week end my dears
	Love, peace and bouncing [hard] balls
	Stefano

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