Do they have orthopaedic care homes? Or ‘sporting care homes’ perhaps? Where old people who refuse to ever slow down in their pursuit of athletic excellence can go and get put back together. To live their lives out being pumped full of steroids and being physiotherapied along so they can play just one more game of tennis, have one last run, make just three more attempts at jumping 7 metres on the pole vault, before they die.

People always ask me the same thing when they haven’t seen me for a few years/months/weeks/hours; ‘have you lost weight?’ they say. Because they’ve forgotten that I’m just a skinny bastard. Always have been. Nothing to do with ‘eating well’. Which I never have. Well, I do eat well. Then I eat badly afterwards. Very naughty badly. Mel’s in good shape too. Not sure how that precise shape would be described but its not a bad shape at all. So people accuse us of ‘being fit’.

No, we’re not fit. Fit implies glowing with muscular perfection, with rampant athleticism, with everything working perfectly, harmoniously, effortlessly wonderfully. Mel & I are more: ‘held together with sticking plaster, surgical supports, k-tape and an endless supply of ibuprofen’. We’re the medical equivalent of a 1958 Porsche Speedster that is polished to perfection, chromed to the max; but the engine’s firing on one cylinder, the carbs clogged up and the spark plugs missing.

This morning I have a physio appointment. Been booked ages. Just an ‘interim service’ kind’a thing. Check it all over, make sure its not too damaged, stiff, seized up, whatever. Particularly the shoulder which was cortisoned up a year ago and is thankfully now almost 65% ok. That was the plan. Til yesterday. I hurt my hip on the tennis court about 6 months ago. Been liveable with since then (read: I still play tennis on it even though I probably shouldn’t). Either forgot about it or learned to live with the infrequent minor discomfort. Then I went for a shot yesterday morning, moved fast, very fast, almost explosively, to the right (that’s the hip) and… well, exploded. My hip did. That’s what it felt like. Holy Shi-iit!!! I hobbled to the coffee shop then walking the 200 yards to my house, I actually had to stop. Couldn’t move it without sheer agony.

Yet today its not too bad. Back to normal (levels of minor pain). But was replaced by a sharp ache between my shoulders, right across my back. Woke me up. So you just have to wonder: What the Fuck??? And get physio. Lots of physio. And drugs. Better get to my appointment early. We have much to do.

Happy, achy Monday

A xxxx