I stumbled out of bed at one am yesterday to view the moon. After a sudden lurch of the Egg to starboard I reached out in the dark to steady myself and crunched into a large vitrine of ethanol and preserved rose hips. Destroying the jar gave me quite a sting, which was sorted later when my neighbour Nick kindly drove me to hospital in Lymington. After six stitches, the nurse was pleased that he could now claim to have ‘sutured the Eggman’.