and the winner is...

So, my hand and the television got in a race, to see which of them could hit the ground first. My hand won! Of course, the television duly came in second, and in its final push to the finish managed to mash my hand as well.
The picture doesn't really do my green/yellow finger justice. For some reason, the Iphone seems to take unusually healthy photos--it refused to capture my bruising in all of its glory. The TV, alas, is no more. Luckily, it was a free gift, ancient, and only got three channels, so we don't feel its loss too strongly.
I'm not normally a clumsy or destructive person, but I do seem to have unusual runs of unfortunate luck around Pete's place in Manchester. I think it's because I am normally trying very, very hard not to disturb anything--which means that I of course start knocking things over right and left. And overcooking meals. And other general embarrassments. This really isn't about Pete because I know he loves me (well, maybe not to the fullest extent when I'm breaking TVs), but I put so much pressure on myself around him and around the flat that I set myself up for disaster.
I'm working on getting over it, and I would like to start cooking more. I think once I officially live here (and we have some more pans and actual kitchen equipment), I will feel more at home. I love cooking, and I'm looking forward to really starting to cook more while in the UK.
Now to figure out the driving on the left-side business.