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.