Why is it that the more frequently events occur in our lives, the less time we have to write about them? I realise that the last few weeks have been tumultuous, yet I sit here on the sofa contemplating and not penning.
I have never broken a bone before, let alone two. Oh, a dislocation and all. I never really did half measures so don’t really intend to start now. Hospital was a valued experience and I would like to take a moment to thank all the staff at Chelmsford’s Broomfield Hospital from the bottom of my heart, though they were probably more familiar with the heart of my bottom after a week on my back. Two operations later and I seem to be on the mend. Sadly I cannot share my X-rays with you all, but suffice to say that I am now destined to set off the blessed airport security alarms for the rest of my life. I consider myself well and truly plated.
The bar on the corner progresses slowly. What if it’s OK and not the thin end of the wedge we perceive it to be? Soon we will know our fate. I’ve always fancied having a cafe nearby. Maybe I will become the man who can’t be moved. It is, after all, at the corner of the street.
V Festival was fabulous, save for the nutter. Enjoy your freedom, my friend, for it will not last. We have perfect photographs of you. I hope you like porridge.