I appear to have shetland ponied my back.

No doubt heaving the caravan around yesterday didn’t help – for most of the journey I hitched it to the back of the Gruntmobile and towed it, but the getting-in-and-out-of-the-driveway bits are manual operations and I suspect that’s when it happened. It’s a shame because I’m supposed to be using the caravan this weekend, but if there isn’t some dramatic back-getting-better going on fairly soon, it isn’t going to happen. What’s worse is that not only was this going to be the caravan’s last outing for the season, it’s the birthday party of my ickle godson’s big bruvver as well.

Did I mention that I’ve been told I’m going to have an operation on my carpal-tunnelled wrist? Between five and eight months to wait now apparently. I was warned that between now and then I’m going to lose grip and dexterity in the fingers on that hand, and it’s true – I keep dropping things, and yesterday’s blog – where I was a bit tired on top of it all – took me an age to write, I kept hitting the wrong keys and having to go back and retype. I’m trying not to let it get to me, but most of my working life is spent bashing a keyboard; of my hobbies, I haven’t sent any morse code (my favourite bit of the ham radio thing) for nearly a year, and assembling a circuit board or holding a soldering iron is impossible.

Anyway, the extra-strong pain killer thingies are starting to cut in now, so I think I’ll go and tick-tock curly wurly cuckoo wibble…

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