Limp

Well I felt just super last night; despite adverse weather conditions (and by 'adverse' I specifically mean 'rain and gale-force winds') I managed to run my usual route in an almost record-breaking 33 minutes. Hurrah, I shouted to no one in particular, and went to bed a happy man.

Fast forward to this morning. I woke up to find (and I'm almost feeling vomit-tastic as I write this) that Take That's new song was inexplicably playing in my head. AND NOTHING WOULD SHIFT IT. *Shudder* Hurry up and get ready, I thought, because once I got to the car I could listen to some decent music of my own choosing. I swung my legs out of bed, pushed myself up, and instantly fell back down again. Bugger, I thought. I've buggered my knee.

Annoying…

I've been getting a bit of knee pain recently after running, but this was an altogether more exciting level of pain. I really think it's time to replace my manky old trainers with something a little more athlete-specific. In the meantime, though, I'm left with a buggered knee. I felt really stupid hobbling from my car to the office, then hobbling from my desk to the kitchen to make a cuppa. I know I should probably have gotten Theoretical Secretary to make my tea, but she's theoretical which doesn't particularly help matters, especially when I want to delegate work to her.

At lunchtime I had to make allowance for extra time as I hobbled down to Hammersmith to meet Yaz, rather than manfully striding. And she was still late. I was not amused. I feel like Herr Flick of the Gestapo.

Now, who wants to rub neurofen gel into my knee? It makes my hands feel greasy.

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Now look here: I always say if a joke is worth repeating once, it's worth repeating twice. And clearly someone in HMV in Hammersmith agrees with me, and has had a little too much fun placing the price stickers on the sale goods.