Tuesday, March 4, 2014

March 4. Day 63. Without a leg to stand on

I think we demand rather a lot of our legs. When you are blessed with tree trunks such as mine, the demand to not only support but move a substantial body about is quite demanding but at least it's a fair fight. What's even more remarkable is that the lower limbs seem to work equally as effectively for those with skinny little chicken legs (those legs also have a much greater ability to get away with wearing short skirts and even shorter shorts which seems totally unfair by the way). I got to pondering legs a couple of times today. The first was over coffee with my good mate Roger. We'd been chatting about Roger's recent hip replacement when got up to show off a scar on the lower limb. Seconds later he was writhing in agony unable to stand. The ambulance came and later in hospital it was confirmed - the hip had displaced. He quite literally didn't have a leg to stand on. Later that day, I thought I was in very real danger of joining him. I took the dogs for a walk down by the riverbank at West End. At some point I am convinced a canine pact was signed and they agreed they would gang up and knock me off my feet. They also agreed to try and sacrifice a bird or two and how they managed to not achieve either escapes me. Somehow I managed to stand my ground against a huge force of eight determined dog legs. Round one to me but if this keeps up I don't think it would be going out on too much of a limb to say that next time I won't be so lucky. The birds they were chasing could take refuge in the trees. I'm reckoning next time I might be the one sent flying.

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