The saga of my foot continues . . . finally the other week I went to see a third quack. This one decided that, yes, there was definitely something wrong here. He actually gave me some pain killers/anti-inflamatory tablets and sent me off for an X-ray.
So by the end of the week it was decided that, yes, I had certainly fractured a metatarsal before Christmas and that it was "mending nicely". Well, that was until I tripped over a small child in class and went flying. So now it's not just my left foot that hurts (it had been feeling fine for most of last week) now my right shin hurts too! Certainly swollen and uncomfortable. Ah well, I guess I'll laugh about it all one day. Just not at the moment. The child is okay, just in case you were concerned.
Summer seems a while away yet but around these parts the festivals are beginning to build up. Paul Weller is headlining at Latte-tude and we have a new Suffolk folk festival with Imagined Village, Bellowhead and Mike Heron (he of the ISB) as well as the Maverick Festival which I really must sort out tickets for.
All this and work too. Well, it's the weekend, let's not talk about that now.
* if it sounds familiar, it's from the first episode of Porridge
** not to mention the vast consumption of electrickery