Workin' In A Coalmine...

Getting up rapidly from the sofa found me hanging on the mantle-piece,screaming "Shit". I'd managed to strain/sprain my lower back. It took at least half an hour for me to resemble anything human - I was doubled up, twisted and lopsided all at once.

This was last Saturday evening after I'd spent a few hours down the allotment - I haven't been back. I can't recall whether it was on Saturday evening or Sunday afternoon that I crawled my way up the stairs and into the bathroom. Having a perfunctory tooth brushing session I limped my way into the bed room and slid gingerly between the covers.

The missus is very good in such circumstances, remaining extremely calm in comparison to my baby boy approach to any sort of physical pain. Not kind words and sympathy, but clear instructions and dosing up with pain killers and a hot water bottle wrapped in a bathroom towel. In between my yelps, groans, blaspheming and pleadings to be put down, my wife would pass comment on my acting ability, the range of my facial expressions as well as expressing a certainty that had my "Bad Boy Back" performance been recorded and placed on YouTube I would be the latest hot item.

I stayed in bed most of Sunday, got up, screamed,  limped and cursed and got back into bed with a replenished  hot water bottle.

Monday evening saw me huddled on the edge of the bed unable to get my clothes off. This brought a round of applause from the missus, "And the Oscar goes to....".

Tuesday was spent in bed, my excuse being I wanted to ensure that my muscles healed. Attempts to read a book failed, but I managed to see "The Fantastic Four and the Silver Surfer" in black and white (I couldn't work the colour) on the bedroom TV; after an attempt to get a "Harry Potter" DVD to play failed. I fell asleep during much of the film - even my pain numbed brain could not cope with such rubbish.

Wednesday saw me up all day , but doing nothing except switching savings from one vastly under-performing account into another equally impoverishing money pit. Having bought some Centrica shares - thinking if I've got to pay extortionate utility bills I might as well get a kick back - I discovered that they'd lost about 10% of their value overnight.

Today, I've been shopping having found the car which I'd parked somewhere four days ago, and having a less than clear idea where it was. To cheer myself I went into a garage forecourt and flashed the diesel nozzle at the petrol tank; it only cost £20.

I have now spent over three weeks without alcohol, and yesterday a case of "select reds" arrived as part of my quarterly order which I have yet to cancel. They joined the 48 bottles of non alcoholic German beer; the second order in as many weeks.

As I mentioned earlier my darling wife had selflessly joined me in my absinence.

She had.

She opened one of the "select reds" last night after finishing off the dregs of a Chilean CabSav she'd purchased the day before.

And this morning she asked whether I was feeling a little depressed!