Caned

Back to work tomorrow, at least back to work properly although I might still go on a client boat cruise in the afternoon. I showed my face twice last week, but that was to go on er, a couple of boat cruises and after dropping my Mum at the airport this evening, I then have to join a client dinner. As my Dad used to say when he studied the palms of my hands when I was in the early throes of my career “it’s not real work is it son?”

My knee is still sore as is my hamstring from where they took the graft to construct the new ligament but it appears to be doing well. It is still a fortnight before I can use a static bike and my physio was insisting I use my crutches or at least a cane until then. A cane I ask you.

I’m walking pretty well without the crutches but still aided by painkillers, which Kings Hill Addick will be pleased to know are now commingling nicely with beer. I am also an owner of the ugliest, hottest and blackest leg brace you can imagine. How I’m supposed to build my muscles up all the while wearing an electric blanket around my knee in this heat is slightly confusing.

While we are on the subject of knees and heat, I’d like to wish my friend New York Addick all the very best for this Sunday’s Chicago Marathon. I will follow it with my leg brace on local television channel WGN, which we manage to pick up here in Bermuda.