Today was one of those ‘put your shoulder out while towel-drying your hair’ days.
It’s annoying when such a small thing is the straw that breaks the camel’s back - or in this instance, the Ephgrave’s back - but that’s often the case with this type of injury. I’ve had problems with my shoulder for years, so it often gets me, but while on most occasions the pain subsides after a couple of hours, this has been one of those times when it’s been playing up all day.
This will no doubt lead to an impromptu chiropractor appointment tomorrow if they can squeeze me in, but better that than wait until I’m next scheduled to see them, which is fortnight away with a fair few gigs in between; when you spend so much time performing with a projector screen to your right, it’s nice if you can occasionally turn to look at it without making a guttural, primal sound from the core of your being whenever you try.
Putting personal pain to one side, today was pretty pleasant. It’s my dad’s 71st birthday, so my wife and I went to visit, armed with a couple of presents (a Father Ted Box Set and a Fifteen Storeys High DVD; both appropriate to my Dad’s - and my - comedic taste) and a home-made rhubarb and almond cake (which was very much to our tastes as well). My wife made the cake using rhubarb from my dad’s garden, so it seemed a fair swap; we enjoyed a slice each and a ginger beer in that garden, like the Enid Blyton characters we are.
Ginger beer's my latest addiction; I can’t get enough of the stuff. Still, at least it keeps me off the disco biscuits.