No, I haven’t dug up some ancient treasure in my garden, the old crock I’m referring to is me!
Oh, but you already knew that didn’t you? It was just that I hadn’t realised. It crept up on me and took me by surprise.
I had my X Ray results earlier this week and it seems I am an arthritic old crock and my doctor is referring me.
I can’t take NSAIDs or opiates so it looks like going the injection and manipulation route.
Indy said it wouldn’t have happened if I watched my weight and was a slim jim like him, but enough about all that… here’s a brief word from himself:
This is my wise, all knowing I-told-you-so-tubs look.
December and January – great months. Lots of parties = lots of kids = lots of food. I love it. You may spot me in the next photo wearing my Feed-me-feed-me-now-can't-you-see-I'm-desperate face...
Here is a piece of advice from me (that's me, not himself) for anyone entering writing competitions – including children.
Take time to read the terms and conditions.
I was going to post a link here to a writing competition until I found the following amongst the terms and conditions.
Entrants agree to grant exclusive, royalty free, perpetual, worldwide, irrevocable and sub-licensable right to use, reproduce, modify, adapt, publish and display such content for any purpose in any media, without compensation.
This applies to all entrants – not just the winners.
I don’t know about you, but that makes my blood boil. “Without compensation”??? What do you think? Am I being over sensitive? Or is that out of order?
And why are the newspapers in such a tizz about the cold weather? I remember as a child waking up to ice on the inside of my bedroom window and getting dressed under the covers. I remember the milk freezing in the bottles and pushing the lids up and the little birds sitting on the top and pecking at the cream.
I’ve just defrosted the bird baths. Yes, it is cold, but it is also February.