I did have a bit of a dummy spit, didn't I? You know, all that stuff about Amazon reviews. It wasn't me, it was the drugs talking. OK, so the medication in question was a sleeping tablet, rather than a 'get the hump because no-one's reviewed your book' tablet, but there's not alot in it, I assure you.
This week I was measured up for my new tennis wheelchair, which will undoubtedly make me a fantastic tennis player. Next week I hope to be measured up for a new 'get filthy rich' wheelchair, or maybe even a 'don't need a wheelchair anymore because I can walk again' wheelchair.
Tomorrow morning I'm off to the BBC for a series of interviews for BBC local radio, starting with BBC Radio Leeds at 10.30. Could be interesting, especially as (now then, now then, guys and gals) Leeds is of course the home to Stoke Mandeville's own Sir Jimmy Savile, so I'm sure he'll come up in conversation, or 'chat', as I'm sure it's known in local radio argot.
Next up is BBC Southern Counties Radio at 11.30. Could be interesting, especially as the Southern Counties are the home of, well, Surrey and, er... Sussex.
Then, at midday I'm doing BBC Radio Bristol.
Obviously, I'm doing all of these interviews from BBC studios in London, rather than actually traveling to the regions. See, I've got all the lingo. I also have a horrible feeling that the wonders of digital radio could mean that it's possible to listen to local radio, even when you're not local. Now I'm sweating.
But before tomorrow comes tonight, and another bout of pain (yawn!), but this time rather than Spike, it's just the usual assortment of twinges that seem to come in whenever there's damp weather. All that "feel it in me bones" stuff seems to be true, bizarrely. Something about low pressure? I dunno, really. All I do know is that if all else fails, I could have a career as a weather man. By which I mean I could be kept in the garden, and wheeled in to see what the weather's like. If I'm wincing and swearing, then there's low pressure coming in, if I'm wet, it's raining, etc. These are the kind of helpful ideas that the Government could employ to get people off incapacity benefit.
Right, I'm off for some dinner, and then hurl this sorry carcass into the sack, so that I am in some kind of shape to dazzle on the airwaves, where I can shine. Remember:
"Many a scarecrow serves as a roost for the enlightened crow."
I'm not really sure either, but it sounds good, no?
This week I was measured up for my new tennis wheelchair, which will undoubtedly make me a fantastic tennis player. Next week I hope to be measured up for a new 'get filthy rich' wheelchair, or maybe even a 'don't need a wheelchair anymore because I can walk again' wheelchair.
Tomorrow morning I'm off to the BBC for a series of interviews for BBC local radio, starting with BBC Radio Leeds at 10.30. Could be interesting, especially as (now then, now then, guys and gals) Leeds is of course the home to Stoke Mandeville's own Sir Jimmy Savile, so I'm sure he'll come up in conversation, or 'chat', as I'm sure it's known in local radio argot.
Next up is BBC Southern Counties Radio at 11.30. Could be interesting, especially as the Southern Counties are the home of, well, Surrey and, er... Sussex.
Then, at midday I'm doing BBC Radio Bristol.
Obviously, I'm doing all of these interviews from BBC studios in London, rather than actually traveling to the regions. See, I've got all the lingo. I also have a horrible feeling that the wonders of digital radio could mean that it's possible to listen to local radio, even when you're not local. Now I'm sweating.
But before tomorrow comes tonight, and another bout of pain (yawn!), but this time rather than Spike, it's just the usual assortment of twinges that seem to come in whenever there's damp weather. All that "feel it in me bones" stuff seems to be true, bizarrely. Something about low pressure? I dunno, really. All I do know is that if all else fails, I could have a career as a weather man. By which I mean I could be kept in the garden, and wheeled in to see what the weather's like. If I'm wincing and swearing, then there's low pressure coming in, if I'm wet, it's raining, etc. These are the kind of helpful ideas that the Government could employ to get people off incapacity benefit.
Right, I'm off for some dinner, and then hurl this sorry carcass into the sack, so that I am in some kind of shape to dazzle on the airwaves, where I can shine. Remember:
"Many a scarecrow serves as a roost for the enlightened crow."
I'm not really sure either, but it sounds good, no?
This week I was measured up for my new tennis wheelchair, which will undoubtedly make me a fantastic tennis player. Next week I hope to be measured up for a new 'get filthy rich' wheelchair, or maybe even a 'don't need a wheelchair anymore because I can walk again' wheelchair.
Funniest comment ever. I have so many chairs for different purposes... never occurred to me to manipulate that scenario to my own benefit....