There’s a bit of the hypochondriac in me if you weren’t already aware of that. I got home the night before last and Sophie, somewhat churlishly I thought, remarked on what a particularly jolly mood I seemed to be in. It wasn’t that I had landed a thumping large order. Indeed my biggest progress with getting people to vote for our research team in II had come the day before. It could only be, we concluded after some reflection, because I had been to see a doctor that morning.
I have to admit I do love doctors. I told you the other day about the last one I met, with whom I had a marvellous natter about the Rosetta Stone and who introduced me to a programme on the radio called the Museum of Antiquities. By the way I listened to another lovely series on Radio 4 this week and downloaded it on the IPlayer Radio, which I can thoroughly recommend to you, although it may be a bit close to the bone for my Edinburgh friends. Mind you it does lay into Weegies. It came hot on the heels of a report I spotted concerning the Advocate General, Lord Keen of Elie, who has been fined £1,000 for leaving his 12 bore shotgun unsecured – and uncleaned incidentally, a cardinal sin in my books - in the basement of his Airlie Place house, indiscretions which were only discovered because the poor fellow’s house was burgled when he went away on his holidays. I digress. The radio programme is called 15 Minute Drama and was a series of 5 episodes from 44 Scotland Street by Alexander McCall-Smith. Joyous. Oh dear. I’m rambling again.
The doctor. Well, do you know what he said to me which made me so chirpy? First off he told me I have remarkably good articular cartilage in the tibiofemoral joint. So that was pretty cool I thought. He continued “If you were a professional footballer”, as he examined the MRI scan of my injured knee, “this would be a season ending injury.” I am a sad boy I know, but I think it was this that that continued to buoy my mood by the time I got home.
But in the cold light of day this was bad news really. I am off games, well at least running for three to six months – so Mr Akhtar, my orthopaedic surgeon tells me, but we’ll see about that! - by which time, I mused ruefully, I would be the size of house. Something needed to be done. The doc had mentioned that swimming might be good alternative. I’m not that keen on swimming truth be told. These public swimming pools full of urine and I hate getting water in my ears. But needs must and anyway it was an opportunity to buy some more kit. So I went on line to Sophie’s Amazon Prime account and bought some swimming googles and a pair of luxurious Speedos. Yaaaay!!!! So excited. Which made her reaction on receiving the order confirmation, which I must admit I had not anticipated, all the more disappointing:
Talking about having your bubble burst, the other day I was browsing through a slightly dated edition of The Nikkei Asian Review from which a glowing restaurant review leapt out at me like a wild salmon. The author was raving about the very place I had such a memorable dinner with some clients several years back. A link to the article is here: http://asia.nikkei.com/Life-Arts/Life/Andy-s-New-Rising-Sun-bows-to-Japan-s-izakaya-tradition And my review of the place, I hesitate to call it a restaurant, is attached in the form of a previous Bodhi Tree email, which also refers to my athletic aspirations bringing us, as I like to do here, full circle.
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