MY back went just in time to allow Maria to cut the lawn. Honestly, I didn’t plan it.
The trouble with having a bad back is that it doesn’t show.
I mean, my chum Billy Shoes broke his arm and got a sling so people were immediately concerned about his welfare. But you don’t get a sling with a bad back or a plaster cast down one leg or a bandage round your head.
All you get is a pain that makes putting on your socks a Mission Impossible.
My bad back has, of course, been around a long time. It first manifest itself 25 years ago when I was nobbut a young man and still playing football.
Worn bits at the bottom of my spine put an end to that.
Back then, I had a couple of epidurals to sort me out, but the problem has never gone away completely and keeps coming back from time to time, as if to say, don’t be clever or I’ll get you.
It returned when the new mowing machine was delivered.
The chap left this large box on the doorstep and I dragged it down the hall and into the kitchen and, in my eagerness to unpack it, I bent over injudiciously and felt the first twinge.
By the time I had it out and put together, the pain had developed into a rhapsody of twinges.
Funnily enough, it seemed to get worse as the weather improved. This was totally coincidental and I felt very guilty about sprawling in bed reading a book while my wife, Maria, womanfully tackled the long grass.
And what a good job she did. I told her so as she brought me another glass of pop and a bag of crisps.
I am hoping that my affliction is getting better because it restricts even the simplest of movements. I can swing myself out of bed by hooking one foot round the frame and rolling out like a crab but getting dressed is a problem.
Underpants I manage by dangling (the garment) and doing a ballet step with a pointed toe. One wrong move and catastrophe could follow but a chap has to retain some dignity.
Maria has to help with my socks and shoes and, really, she has enough to do already, what with cutting back the overgrown trees and shrubbery, housework, shopping and checking to see if I need another cup of tea. Oh, and one of those French fancies would be nice.
So far, she has kept her patience but I am beginning to see signs that it could be wearing thin. Yes, I can definitely feel a recovery coming on. After all, the lawns are cut and it’s Friday night. A couple of pints will be perfect to ease away any lingering pain.
