Woken at 4am by a completely seized right hip – probably the cold weather. Of course, being quite strongly me, I didn’t wake up going “ow, Christ, O lor that hurts, woe, woe!” – I woke up laughing my head off, because my body translated the pain into a dream where I, and everyone else in the dream, consistently kept slipping over on their arses. So I was like: “HA HAHAow fuck HA HA HAHA!”
This happens relatively often. My subconscious is big on slapstick. I blame a childhood diet of Laurel and Hardy.
When I stumbled outside with a morning cup of tea to take the air, I found that the ice on the barrel was three quarters of an inch thick (I break it with a stone each morning, for the birds), and the whole garden powdered white where the air had frozen. Lovely.
Anyway, the hip’s eased up a bit now – I’ll do some walking, that might free it up. Or make my leg drop off. Either is fine. I don’t know whether to take it up The Hill, or whether that would be foolhardy. It would be foolhardy, wouldn’t it?
Right, that’s probably what I’ll do, then.