Someone's out to get us

Today, for the first time in a long while I got to utter those six words that every busy office worker delights in yelling as they rush out the door hours before the end of play: "tell 'em I'll call 'em back!"

Which was a shame because I was actually looking forward to talking to the person on the other end of the line.

Anyway, the reason for me heading out of work so early in the day was that I was off for my second physio appointment. The first, which took place a couple of weeks back, wasn't so much a proper physio appointment as it was the physiotherapist wobbling my head around a bit before telling me that yes, there was indeed a bit of a problem as a result of the accident I was in a couple of months back. That being the case, I wasn't entirely sure about what I was letting myself in for as I hopped onto a bed this afternoon in West London ready to be manipulated.

We started with the physio taking me through the same sort of motions that we did last time round to see if there was any improvement in my movement (I'm smiling because that rhymes…). This involved him standing behind me and twisting my head. Now, I don't know about you, but I've seen enough Hollywood movies that it's pretty much hardwired into my brain now that if anyone tries to grab you on either side of the head chances are they're going to try to snap your neck. As such, my knee-jerk reaction would normally be to elbow them in the gut. Fortunately for both of us, I managed to restrain myself on this occasion (I sat on my hands just to be on the safe side).

As a result of actually bothering to do the five-minute daily exercise routine the physio told me to do last time I went - something that I surprised myself by doing - and my newfound addiction to sweaty half-naked yoga, I do seem to have regained rather a lot of flexibility. My lateral twists, for example, were nigh on perfect, even if my back did make a rather astounding cracking noise on both the left and right turn.

Less perfect, however, is my inability to do a full head-turn to the right, and it's this area on which my physio decided to concentrate (which was probably for the best because while I would've really appreciated a nice foot-rub, it's my neck that needs the attention). So, I lay on a bed in the recovery position, and allowed the physio to start jabbing me in the neck.

OK, so it wasn't quite 'jabbing,' but it was a bit painful at first. After a while though I kind of got used to it. At one point I imagined it was a bit like a cat massage.

So while my physio is prodding away we start talking about my job. He seems quite interested in the world of Star Trek publishing, although I suppose it could actually have more to do with making sure I was still conscious - a bit like those brain surgeries where the doctors have to keep their patients talking so that they know they haven't obliterated their power of speech or accidently killed them. Anyway, from there we segued into talking about science-fiction films in general. And it was while we were chatting about films that a voice from the other side of the curtain piped up: turns out that I wasn't the only science-fiction fan in the building, and receiving a bit of physio in the agony booth to my right was a columnist from SFX magazine.

Now, I haven't so much as glanced through a copy of SFX in years. I think the last time I looked at one was when we found out they'd produced a parody of my first editing gig, The Official Star Trek Fact Files, which I would've been spectacularly miffed at had it not been for the fact that it was so well-observed and, well, funny.

Anyway, we introduced ourselves while our respective physios went about their business; my initial embarrassment at not being familiar with her work quickly subsided when I told her where I currently worked, and where I'd previously worked, and she didn't have a clue who I was either, which was only fair. Then, of course, we started nerding out, because that's what we do.

So, physio turned out to be a far more pleasant experience that I'd initially thought. And while my recovery is coming along, I can't help but be troubled by the fact that I, a Star Trek editor, and my comrade in physio, an SFX columnist, have both recently been involved in car accidents.

Coinky-dink…? Methinks not.