(diaryland) May 28, 2010 - 2:25 p.m.

My right leg creaks when I move it now. It just busted itself while I was in Ikea last weekend. Usually only very, very good things happen to me while I'm in Ikea. Not this time.

My Dad had to take me to the doctor on Tuesday so I could find out whether I'd shattered my leg bones or something. I waited for about forty minutes, probably collecting as many diseases as I could just by being there in the seething waiting area, and then had the doctor called me in, put a bandage on my leg that was pretty meaningless, and then told me to go away.

Then my Dad took me to my grandparents' house. I had to get out of the car and hobble down their endless driveway. It was pretty tense times in there when I finally made it through the front door. My Uncle had gotten an ancient video about County Donegal stuck in their VCR plus they wanted the digital set-top box to be removed because they couldn't cope with two remote controls. I kinda know how they feel, because we have four at our house, but my Grandma just went on and on about it, and my Grandad wanted to keep the wrecked video once it was surgically removed from the video machine, and they had a large argument. My Grandma did give me chocolate, though.

My Dad saved the day by making the TV go back to its original state with the high-pitched whine in the background that only people under 50 can hear, and then he bought me a chicken tandoori wrap.

The video that started the whole saga is now in my bin at home. My Grandma said I had to take it because if it went into her bin, my Grandad would try and resurrect it. He's that kind of guy.