it's been over a month since the op on my leg. So, here's a photo of said leg, said almost recovered leg. A fine example of leg it is I must say. This is a leg that's going places, I can tell by the look of it. And what larks me and the leg will having this winter, walking larks, cycling larks, maybe even running larks (but no running until after Christmas larks). We might even be up with the larks, though I'm not wholly sure of this as I have an idea larks bugger off to Africa every winter. Or maybe that's Africans.
In honour of this leg I've bought a winter walking coat. A posh winter walking coat for winter walking because me and the leg are again at one, in the walking sense that is. The other leg? Well, the other leg has always been a hearty soul, has
always liked a drink and a laugh and even a merry old song on
occasion. The other leg is as tough as old boots. No injuries for the other leg, oh no. The other leg is a sturdy leg, a brave leg, a best foot forward leg. Tough as old boots? The other legs sneers at the thought of boots, scoffs at any reference to sole sheathing, jeers when the subject of foot cover even arises. The other leg is hard, a hard leg, the other leg gets into fights in bars. In fact the other leg came home drunk one evening recently and demanded a rendition of the sea shanty
'Bill Bones Hornpipe' before it would rest. Of late the other leg has taken against the leg. I've half heard harsh whispers, threats, even mention of a knife. I worry about the other leg and am secretly glad the leg is now recovered. It's around this time that feelings of equilibrium should begin to express themselves, five or six weeks after the op the man said, a return of equilibrium, of poise. So no more frustration, no more imbalance, only harmony, sigh. Bugger, the other leg's gone out again. Damn, where is that song sheet...
