All your troubles are behind you

A a a a a r g h. Jesus holy Christ and all his attendant wingèd hamster attendants. My back has gone bang, just below the knobbly bit that my right kidney hangs off (my grasp of lumbar physiology isn’t terribly tight, as all the chunky Lego bits of mine seem to rattle round a bit). I have the usual ice-cream headache in my right hip, and shooting pains along my thigh. If only someone, all those years ago, had told me to at least vary the shoulder my bag was slung over; or to walk around occasionally during revision for A-level mocks, my world might now be different. How did I have the nerve to mock the sartorius of those gaggles of French tourists on Cornmarket? Oh, wait: I remember.

But I don’t know what I’m going to do at the Reading Festival at this rate. Don’t be surprised if I go quiet for a week. Three days of keeping away from a computer when I can might make the five days of enforced connectivity withdrawal at the hands of Mean Fucking Fiddler slightly more palatable. I already have an inflatable to balance on, should my whole ganglion burst into flames.

Advertisements
This entry was posted in body, infirmity, person. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s