New ball(joint)s please

Background for those who don't know me: I have recently had surgery, to resurface my left hip.

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I needed a new battery for my car, because the old one had been on since I bought it in 2003. It wasn't holding charge any more when the car stood, as it did post op, unused for weeks on end. My husband in the meantime swapped the horsebox battery onto the car so I could get about once I was allowed to drive; but obviously, I still I needed to replace that battery, nonetheless. So I asked the garage to get me one.

When I called in yesterday to collect, I parked outside and went in, where Chris, the owner/mechanic and much battered ex-rally driver, greeted me. He went to stand beside the wall, where I recognised a battery sitting on the floor.

He just sort of stood there and said, "Here you are."

Fifteen-love.

I limped over and said, "I'm not lifting heavy things just at present."

Fifteen-all.

He said, "I'm not supposed to be lifting anything. I'm on Light Duties."

Thirty-fifteen.

I said, "And I'm signed off work completely, which is why I'm here on a weekday and not a Saturday."

Thirty-all.

I'd forgotten that next week he's due to have some screws re-aligned, which have given way over the 2 decades since he smashed up his hip joint in a rally car crash. He'd forgotten that I had been in for surgery in the past six weeks. Stand-off.

Umpire?

I should have reversed the car into the bay and got close enough to lift the battery into the boot. As it was, Chris did pick up the battery and carry it over to my car. Then, while I paid the bill, we had a practical and entertaining chat about hospitals and joint surgeries.

Given the nature of orthopaedics, the garage floor was quite a suitable setting.