Six cents

The promise of February has brought with it a twinged back that got progressively worse through the day. The last time I had something like this was in Cambodia after a game of touch rugby. A physiotherapist at Dick van der Pol’s clinic sorted me out very effectively.

This time it was my old friend Lu who used her physio skills to advise me via video call. She said that the Covid pandemic had created, ironically, an epidemic of mobility problems as many people are moving less and/or being scrunched up on a rickety wooden chair, hunched over a laptop. She also gave me the best explanation I’ve ever had about how the body over-compensates for weaknesses, and how a crap chair or soft bed will eventually tip this over into acute or chronic pain. After seeing some exercise demos, I made up a hot water bottle without spasming, which was progress. I’ll do more elongating and tipping tomorrow. A pinched nerve once every seven years is manageable I suppose.

Today’s work drama was the finance department asking why one of the monthly expense claims I submitted was 0.06 Euros (yes, 6 cents) greater than they expected, and requesting me to justify the difference. I wanted to reply that I was planning to squirrel 6 cents per month into a Swiss bank account. I worked out that at that rate of squirrelling in 80 months I could afford a coffee in Switzerland, and if I work until age 73, a full meal out.

I went on a lunchtime stroll without moving my upper body. This old dude on the wall of the Old Divinity School, part of St John’s College, is adopting the same stance as me today, with one arm tucked in to avoid risky movements and twinges.