Day 5 (though it feels more like 105 – to me, and probably by now to you too) since I tried to turn the flexible but protective box of my rib cage into a postable delivery envelope, and I’m still sleeping on a wedge pillow, still yelping in pain at regular intervals, and still struggling for breath on even the mildest exertion. But I am now managing to reduce my painkiller intake a bit, which is good because I’m keen to get back to something like normality before I run out of the prescription meds (aka the good drugs). I’m also now mildly interested to observe how the worst of the pain is shifting around my torso from day to day, presumably because the situation is still a bit unstable.
I know how it feels. A couple of days ago someone said to me, “You fall over quite often, don’t you?”, and I said defensively “No I don’t!” – but then thought… yeah, well, maybe… It’s a few years now since I actually broke anything (R to me, shortly after breaking his ankle: “Have you ever fractured anything?” Me, one-upping viciously: “Only my spine,”), but I have taken three significant falls this year, and that feels like at least two too many. I don’t really go in for New Years’ resolutions, on account of having far too little self-control ever to stick to them, but I do think I might aim to spend more time not falling over during 2026 than I managed this year.
Anyway, having managed to plod all the way round the village yesterday, today I thought I’d have a go at the riverside circuit in Stratford, between the Lucy’s Mill and Old Tramway Bridges, and I made it all the way round – so again, that’s progress. I liked the angelic conformation of this juvenile Black-headed Gull as it dropped towards the river; my second photo shows the same bird a few seconds later, looking dapper on nice feathery water.
