It was only a matter of time. Its a while since I've had a 'regression' and now here it is. Seems that a couple of days of work were simply too much for my ankle and foot to cope with. The distances in the office are considerably more than my living room - and its a fair old hike to the printer. My ankle complained almost immediately, as did my knee. My Physio prodded and poked and decided we should ease back on the exercises, boycott the gym and stop walking for non essential trips.
This is, of course, infuriating. As is the constant pain. The weather is fabulous. I need to get to my allotment. I have a huge work load to address. There's a chance to share a dinghy in our new 'neighbourly' sailing club. I want to try on wetsuits. I had finally found my independence. - getting the bus into town on my own. I had just started some cardio exercise. And now I'm essentially stuck at home. Getting fatter with each waking hour. With a new set of very subtle quad and knee exercises. Too close a proximity to the kitchen. And some rather baffled cats.
So, in a desperate act of normality, I book a flight to Barcelona for late August to visit my fabulous friends in Tarragona. I feel vaguely guilty about this flight. This was going to be my year of not flying. But I fear 18 hours on the train may be too much for a semi - cripple. (It remains to be seen whether the airline will charge me extra for the sticks. To prevent potential humiliation I forked out an extra £100 to avoid Ryanair...)
I listen to my Spanish lessons on the bus to Physio. I line up my Spanish books on the table. Beside my gardening books. I may even open them sometimes. I accept a few more couch surfers, and I wonder how long this whole recuperation lark is going to take. I read blogs of folk cycling the world and I wish it was me. I have a check of my stat counter and note that Boris has been doing searches on himself again. Surprisingly, this makes my day. There are no secrets on the Internet. Especially from people who have nowt to do all day but teach themselves Internet forensics. You have been warned....
This is, of course, infuriating. As is the constant pain. The weather is fabulous. I need to get to my allotment. I have a huge work load to address. There's a chance to share a dinghy in our new 'neighbourly' sailing club. I want to try on wetsuits. I had finally found my independence. - getting the bus into town on my own. I had just started some cardio exercise. And now I'm essentially stuck at home. Getting fatter with each waking hour. With a new set of very subtle quad and knee exercises. Too close a proximity to the kitchen. And some rather baffled cats.
So, in a desperate act of normality, I book a flight to Barcelona for late August to visit my fabulous friends in Tarragona. I feel vaguely guilty about this flight. This was going to be my year of not flying. But I fear 18 hours on the train may be too much for a semi - cripple. (It remains to be seen whether the airline will charge me extra for the sticks. To prevent potential humiliation I forked out an extra £100 to avoid Ryanair...)
I listen to my Spanish lessons on the bus to Physio. I line up my Spanish books on the table. Beside my gardening books. I may even open them sometimes. I accept a few more couch surfers, and I wonder how long this whole recuperation lark is going to take. I read blogs of folk cycling the world and I wish it was me. I have a check of my stat counter and note that Boris has been doing searches on himself again. Surprisingly, this makes my day. There are no secrets on the Internet. Especially from people who have nowt to do all day but teach themselves Internet forensics. You have been warned....
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