Saturday, July 29, 2006
The One-Armed Draughtsman.
Generally, it's not been a good week. I somehow managed to royally fuck my left arm up at work. I couldn't lift my hand to wipe my sweaty brow. (I had no problem wiping lower parts of my body, thankfully.) My shoulder just gave way on Tuesday, and so for the rest of the week I was an arm cripple. It seemed to be getting better yesterday, but the bastard is giving me no end of gyp again today. My appreciation of Def Leppard's Rick Allen and Doctor Who's Davros has increased twofold.
The weather isn't helping, either. I think I might have said before that I hate the hot weather. I hate sweating. It's against my religion. It makes me wear shorts so I resemble a cast member of It Ain't Half Hot, Mum. I was shopping with my family today in a big trading park near here and caught sight of my own reflection. It was a man who shouldn't really be wearing shorts wincing as he rubs his crippled shoulder. It was a reflection that shouted "Somebody's Old Dad!" at me.