My mate Rob, with whom I’ve worked for 12 years, never willingly moves. He doesn’t gym, he doesn’t play anything more taxing than an a cd and he won’t walk if a bus can take him there in just twice as long. He’s a bit overweight. Yet he never has an ache, a pain, a pulled muscle, a nothing.

I’ve played sport my whole life. Always. I walk a lot, I cycle, I have difficulty sitting still unless there’s food in front of me or Spurs are on tv. Even then I often ‘jiggle’ a leg or fiddle, and NOT just to annoy Mel. I’m a mover and shaker. Unfortunately, in the literal sense.

And I suffer. Back aches, I have a damaged thigh muscle from a high kick about 12 months ago, I have tennis elbow in my left arm, an occasional dodgy knee and a recurring shoulder injury from 13 dislocations during my footballing years.

So really, sport/exercise is bad for you. DON’T DO IT! You’ll be healthier without.

Why have I been so terribly depressed then? Over the last couple of weeks as my ‘repaired’ shoulder was so bad I wasn’t allowed tennis and then for one awful week, I stopped my martial arts too, I became steadily more ‘down’ and ‘blue’ and ‘low’. I almost started listening to old Leonard Cohen cds. It was that bad.

Today I played tennis. I tai chi’ed on Thursday and yesterday, and I feel great. I feel happy, I feel pretty and witty and bright. Yes, I almost burst into song. Though not that fucking song, I hate that one. I was singing ‘already gone’ because I watched (for the 65th time) the Eagles Story, in honour of dear-departed Glen Frey.

So happy that I got Spurs Paul to take a photo of me on the court this morning. ‘Man in his element’, I thought would be an appropriate title. Or, ‘gorgeous man looking pretty and witty and briiiiiiiiiight’. Whereas he suggested as a more appropriate title to represent my sheer joy and happiness and liberation from my tragically debilitating injury: ‘who gives a fuck???’

And I can’t argue with that. I think I’ve become a ‘shoulder-bore’.

The sun’s shining, the world’s good (other than all the bad shit) and I’m happy. What could possibly go wrong???

Happy Sunday

A xxxx (share the love)