On Sunday I developed bags under the eyes. They are infused with blood and do nothing to enhance my appearance. The hospital had said that I should see my own doctor after a few days but I decided that the sooner I did so, the better it would be, for reassurance if nothing else.

On Monday morning, therefore, I went to the medical practice to see whether I could obtain an appointment, preferably sooner than the usual waiting period which can be from 10 days to two weeks or even longer. Happily, the receptionist was able to arrange for me to see a doctor that very afternoon. How she magicked it, I do not know, but I was duly grateful.

I returned at the appointed hour and was seen by not one but two doctors, a young, and I imagine new, doctor and one of the practice doctors who sat in and observed. As the report filed by the Newham hospital had not yet arrived, I needed to recount my accident in detail and answer many questions about it. This was followed by a physical examination and the making of an appointment on Friday with one of the practice nurses to examine the wound on my hand and rebandage it as necessary.

My question as to when the bandages could be removed was answered only vaguely. Perhaps on Friday the nurse can give me a better estimate.

The problem that remains is that my hand, from the wrist to the base of the fingers, is wrapped in a crepe bandage. This means that I cannot even wash my hands properly or do domestic chores involving water. I had already tried putting on a kitchen glove over the bandage but had desisted when I saw that this inevitably pulled the bandage out of position. This morning I tried again because I had realized that the crepe in fact merely acts as a first line of defence against dirt and knocks whereas the wound is covered with adhesive tape and adhesive patches.

By persevering, I managed to ease the glove onto my hand this time and was then able to have a proper wash.That made me feel a lot better.

Having checked out of the apartment (an operation which consisted of no more than saying goodbye to the young lady on the reception desk), we made our way to the bus stop. A succession of three buses brought us to King’s Cross Station where we took a late breakfast at Leon.

After breakfast we crossed the road to St Pancras International Station where we saw Tigger’s nephew to his train. A final bus ride brought us home.

The outing obviously did not go as intended. Spending Saturday afternoon in A&E was not in the original plan. Apart from that, everything went well.

Docklands is not the most entertaining neighbourhood in London but for someone seeing it for the first time it is not without interest, I suppose. Also it has good connections by bus, tube and DLR with other more stimulating districts.

Shall we stay here again in the future? I think it unlikely but you never know!

I took this photo from the lounge window at 6:15.

It looks the same as the one I took yesterday, I know, but it will do as a souvenir of our short stay in Crossharbour.

The water you see is called the Millwall Inner Dock. It connects, unsurprisingly, to the Millwall Outer Dock. From this projects a narrow strip of water that I imagine once led to the Thames but that connection no longer exists, having been built over.

My hand is less painful today and this permits a certain amount of use though I am careful not bend it too much because there is a wound across the back of my hand that had been taped to close it and I don’t want to disturb it.

The bandage is not waterproof which means that I have to keep it dry. In turn, this means I can wash my hands only in a very summary fashion. Once I am home I can wear a kitchen glove over the bandage when water is involved.

Just to complete the picture, I have a bump the size and shape of half a golf ball on my forehead above the right eye with abrasions to this and to the bridge of my nose which is also slightly swollen. You may be unsurprised to know that I avoid looking at myself in the mirror!

The moral of the story is: don’t go around head-butting the pavement as you will be the one who comes off worse.

Once again, I am going to express my admiration for the NHS and my gratitude to its staff. The emergency room was busy but I was treated carefully, without haste and with kindness at every stage.

In a few minutes, we have to pack and prepare to start back to more familiar parts of London where we shall put Tigger’s nephew on his train before making our own way home to Angel.

The title describes the weather conditions today. It’s unpleasant but only to be expected in November.

Last night we dined in a South Indian restaurant and were disappointed by the food. This morning we thought we owed it to ourselves to make up for it with a full cooked breakfast in a local cafe. A bit so-so, if I’m honest.

To avoid the weather, we took to the DLR (Docklands Light Railway). This is a network of driverless trains serving, as its name suggests, the area of Docklands.

Trains do carry a human agent who can intervene in emergences or when the volume of passengers necessitates human control of the doors.

And this is where we came – to Stratford. No, not that Stratford, the one on the River Avon associated with Shakespeare, but Stratford in London.

This is perhaps the chief attraction of Stratford, the Westfield Stratford City shopping centre or mall.

This is not my ideal environment but it is at least somewhere to go on a day of bad weather. You can tour the shops, stop for coffee and even have lunch if the spirit moved you to do so.

The only disadvantage is that everywhere tends to be crowded, as this photo taken in Costa Coffee shows.

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This post suffers a discontinuity at this point. On leaving the shopping centre and progressing to the bus station, I tripped and fell, damaging my right hand and hitting by forehead on the ground.

British Transport Police officers came to my aid and took me to their office. They carried out first aid while we waited for paramedics to arrive and, subsequently, an ambulance crew.

The damage was considered serious enough to require hospital treatment and I was transferred by ambulance to Newham University Hospital.

There, I was X-rayed, CT-scanned, blood and blood-pressure tested and bandaged up.

It was around 6:30 pm when I was released. We returned via Stratford, where we had a meal, and then took the DLR back to Crossharbour.

My use of my right hand is limited at present and this will impinge on my ability to post to the blog but I will do my best to keep up with events.

I took this photo from the lounge window this morning at about 6:20. Sunrise is at 6:54 so the sky, just visible, has begun to grow light. The camera is turned to the right as there is another building directly in front.

You can see part of the dock with lights reflecting in the water.