25/06/14 Now we are 6, er 9, ok, 49…

Ella is a patient soul. She has to be really…

She knows that I can be a stubborn b… blighter and that I can, on occasion, make the wrong choice…

We still laugh when we remember how I did my back in a few years ago…and still insisted that I was going to drive up to Edinburgh…until the doctor came round and asked the somewhat obvious question, ‘If you can’t get out of bed, how are you planning on driving a car?’

I’ve loved walking over the past couple of weeks – walk a mile has been so…walkamiley…the weather, the people, the scenery have been amazing.

So when I jarred my knee on a downy hill bit a few days ago and my shoulder came out in sympathy I knew everything would be fine in a couple of days…

I mean, at my youthful age everything just springs back…

The fact that I can’t pick my rucksack up with my right hand and I whimper like Luis Suarez after he’s sunk his teeth (allegedly) into an Italian defender every time I walk on the stairs is neither here nor there…

So, good to go then…

Ella has indulged me with that withering look that says, ‘Yes, of course…DEAR!’…that long-suffering, eyes peering through the fingers, stare of incredulity just waiting for me to say…

‘Er, I don’t think I’ll be able to start back tomorrow…’

I’ve conceded that not all the painkillers I’ve been taking could be faulty.

So I’m going to wait a bit.

Just to be clear, I’m still an arse.

I’ll be hobbling back into action (that’s my normal gait) as soon as I can…without being stupid…possibly…

Walk a mile


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