So you go to a doctor, listen to what he says (or even ‘what SHE says’!!), have scans, take bloods, prod around a bit, wait for results, which say: yeah, you’ve got a problem with your hips. Not sure what it is, but probably…

And they tell you to stop playing tennis for 6 months. A year. Forever!!!

So me and Spurs Paul have adopted a more ‘pragmatic’ approach to orthopaedic medicine. Something along the lines of reciprocal co-diagnosis, using only ‘holistic’ and ‘homeopathic’ (its not an ‘LGBT-etc type thing, honest) methodologies, we’ve created our own ‘cure’.

We played tennis 2 weeks ago, possessing, between us, just one fully functional hip. It was not a beautiful game. Lacked the normal ‘stylish elegance’ (yeah; right) associated with players of such a high calibre. After an unprecedented hiatus of 8 weeks!!

But in playing, against, possibly, some of vague and wooly advice given to us collectively by doctors, physios, bone-cutters and assorted nursing sundries, our 3 errant hips have been much better than they were before. But, like, no problem at all!!

So we played this morning with our usual ‘gay abandon’ (see: LGBT- above), despite any direction or implication by any so-called ‘medical professionals’ not to do so, and we played just fine. None of the trepidation of last time, no holding back, no ‘protecting’ dodgy joints, just tennis, pure and simple, as it should be. By two people, as purely simple as you can be without getting a grant for a carer, who feel that your general well-being is just as important as some specific, old-age type joint issues and their injury prevention.

Doubtless I’ll get a bollocking on Tuesday when I see my orthopod for scan results (hip joint 4, bursitis 3; heart(s)1, knees 2…) or on Saturday when my physio returns from his hols, but I don’t care. We don’t care. We’re that ‘ard; and, possibly, twice as stupid.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx