Toe in the water - shortly followed by everything else

This makes the score four-nil. Four duckings to me; nil to Harrywoman. By now I've probably even fallen in more often than Seadog Brian.
Unfortunately, this time I hurt something other than my pride. As I bobbed to the surface I thought my left foot felt a bit squiffy and, sure enough, as I peeled my clothes off in the shower I discovered the big toe was at a jaunty angle.

I don't think that big toe should look quite like that

I've broken bones before – as you've probably gathered I am a tad accident prone – and I know they usually hurt a lot and swell up a lot too. My toe wasn't swelling and didn't hurt too much so my self-diagnosis was that it as dislocated. Harrywoman offered to pull it straight; an offer I graciously declined. An A&E visit was definitely necessary.
Now, it you must hurt yourself then take my advice and do it somewhere like here: right opposite the Anglo-Welsh hirebase at Wooton Wawer. While I limped around, Harrywoman took charge. She spoke to the hirebase guys who phoned a taxi to take us to the walking wounded centre at Stratford upon Avon and offered a temporary slot in their part of the basin while we were away.
Twenty minutes later I was limping into the Centre and keeping my fingers crossed they'd be able to fix it. If not, it was a long trip to Warwick A&E.
Less than an hour later I was walking out with my toe strapped up and back, more or less in working order. There hadn't even been a queue.
An X-ray confirmed it was dislocated, the brilliant A&E nurse gave me a cylinder of party gas (nitrous oxide to you innocent folk) to inhale from and pulled it smoothly back into position.
Instant relief: I'm not tap-dancing quite yet but it sure feels a lot better. So thank you NHS, thank you Anglo-Welsh guys, thank you friendly taxi driver and thank you Harrywoman for controlling your laughter long enough to get help hauling me out of the water and taking charge of everything after that.