Look, I’ve talked about Donald Trump, Sir Kier Worthless, Sadiq (effin) Kahn, Thomas Frank, Benjamin Netanyahu, Nigel Farage, Lila, Joey and Tommy bloody Robinson. But what about me? I haven’t played tennis for 8 weeks!!! And its all about hips. And scars.

You see I’ve given up my season ticket at Spurs and replaced it with one for Highgate Hospital. Mainly because the parking’s easier. And at those ‘odd times’ when you can’t park there (10.00 to 12.00 Monday to Friday), my mate lives round the corner and he gets me a ‘vistior permit’ on his app. So I can go at ALL times. Which is brilliant. When you get to my age.

My left hip has been bothering me for 8 weeks. Hence my absence from the tennis courts and my frequency at the physio. Who told me that digging needles in my bum and wiggling them around until they hit bone was the best way forward. Well, we better try going backward then, cos I’m not having that. It was awful. He tried other ministrations, ultrasound and ‘deep tissue’ massage and possibly prayer. Was it getting better? Most of the time. So just as I was about to alert the world’s media to my imminent return to the game I love… my RIGHT hip went lame. But like, unwalkably, limpingly, horribly lame.

At which point I visited a bone-man at Highgate over hip-gate. I just had one question: WTF????

Prior to this I’d had a mole removed from just beside my naval. Which turned out to be, thankfully, not a melanoma. Instead, it was so close to a melanoma that they treat it in the same way. Which is to cut out a few inches all around (ok, millimetres. Felt like fucking inches) ‘to be safe’. I didn’t mind. I reckon I lost 3 grammes weight without dieting.

So on Monday night I went to my new ‘second home’ for an MRI scan of both hips, and my lower back too because… well, why not? I was ‘in there’ an hour. Panicking. As I do in confined spaces. Especially ones that go BANG!BANG!BANG! all the time.

Then Wednesday I went back to have the stitches removed from my belly and get the ‘all clear’ about mole-gate. And as soon as the bone-hacker gets back from his holiday (fucking cheek) I’ll learn about the hip(s) issue.

But meanwhile, because I’m an impatient git and not playing tennis has become dreadfully boring, AND because most of the time my hips aren’t that much bother, I’m going to just play on the weekend. Just ‘gently’ and ‘slowly’ (as if). And if Spurs Paul has to carry me to Highgate Hospital in his arms, so be it.

So I’m still alive, but apparently only just.

Happy HEALTHY Thursday

A xxxx