Its official - I'm getting old. 37 actually, but I feel around 77 today. I have knackered my back. Not in the ways of the glory of my youth, making a try saving tackle or falling off my board in spectacular fashion. Washing the car. Yep, washing the sodding car, the shame of it. C & I had gone swimming in Malvern and stopped at a jetwash in Upton to give the car an overdue clean. I choose the super high powered jobby and got to work. Bent over to scrub the sills and , aaaaaargh, what the hell is that ? C ended up jetting the car and as he's only 5 and I'd selected the super high powered jobby, he mainly got the side of the garage as he struggled to keep his footing.
Off to the oesteopath yesterday. I used to give this guy a fairly regular weekly salary, but as I arrived he asked me if I'd given up playing rugby. 'Thought so, hadn't seen you in five years, how did this happen ?' I half thought about making up a cock and bull story about a glorious comeback, but relented and told the very mundane truth. There's a guy with some career change. Used to be a child actor and played Oliver Twist in the original film. Now crunches my bones for a living.