I’ve been suffering lately with a lot of back pain and I thought I might as well have a bit of a moan here and just get things off my chest. I’ve had a little mild back pain for a long while. I don’t mind that, I really don’t. I’m retired so I’m officially old so it’s only right to expect a little pain. I can’t run anymore; in fact, I can’t even remember the last time I ran. Maybe it was for a bus or something, I don’t really know but it’s certainly not something I can do now.
The very first time I had back trouble was back in the 1990’s. You won’t believe it but this is what happened. I was in the bathroom cleaning my teeth and when I went to put my toothbrush back on the holder I dropped it on the floor. I bent down to pick it up and then something happened. I don’t know what it was but I couldn’t get up again and ended having to hobble back to the bedroom. I was off work for a long time. Nothing seemed to help and someone suggested I see a chiropractor, one of those people who manipulate your bones.
This particular lady did a lot of work on my back and towards the end of the treatment she slid her arm under my back and then popped a pillow on my chest. My first thought was that she was going to suffocate me with the pillow. I know the two of us hadn’t really gelled but suffocating me, that was a bit extreme. Anyway, she urged me to shut my eyes and relax and then did exactly what I wasn’t expecting, she jumped on me and my back made a very loud cracking sound.
I didn’t feel any great improvement but not long afterwards I was able to go back to work. Fast forward to earlier this year. We had jetted off to the island of Lanzarote for some winter sun and warmth. The flight over there was pretty comfortable but the flight back was five hours of pain (the aircraft was delayed for an hour on the runway) going from slightly uncomfortable to highly painful. I’m sure that is what has set me off on the present trend of back pain.
A few weeks ago, Liz and I were in one of our favourite eateries, Olivers. We were dining there before going over to the Victoria pub to watch a band that we really like, The Boogie Brothers. The meal was excellent as usual and when I heard Angela, the boss lady of the restaurant behind me, I twisted round to ask for the bill and that’s when I realised that I had made a big mistake. Something had happened in my back. It wasn’t a crack or a twang. There was no moment of something giving way but my back began to hurt, so much so I could hardly walk. I staggered out of the restaurant looking and feeling like a complete cripple. I never made it to the concert, I had to call a friend and ask him to drive me home.
That was certainly a low point, not just the pain but the embarrassment of staggering out of one of my favourite eateries. Hope the owners didn’t think I was drunk.
Here’s another thing about back pain, how it affects your decision making process. The other day we were in Ego, another favourite eatery. I happened to pull my phone out of my pocket and a handkerchief slipped out at the same time. What could I do? Well, in the old days, my younger days, I’d just bend down and pick up the handkerchief. Easy! Today, it isn’t so square cut. Firstly, I can’t bend down, I just can’t reach it but the more I try I will just attract a lot of attention. What is that old guy up to? If it was a tissue, a paper hanky I would probably just leave it there. A proper hanky though and I would want to retrieve it, especially if I happened to have a runny nose. I could try and spear it with a knife or fork or I could kick it over to where Liz could grab it, assuming she wouldn’t mind picking up my slightly grubby hanky. Yes, we old guys have to make decisions like this all the time.
Finally, despite having little faith in some of our medical professionals I decided to try for an appointment at the doctors. I got in to see the practice physio and he seemed to take a little more interest in me this time. He actually decided to have a look at my back and to actually probe it with his fingers looking for the sore spots. As things happened, I was feeling pretty good that day and though I was a little sore, no amount of pressing could find any painful areas although they were there, I assured him.
He sent me off for an X ray, the results of which apparently take two weeks to get over to the surgery. Perhaps over in the X ray department they haven’t yet heard of email.
In the meantime I decided to take up an offer of acupuncture from Liz’s daughter, Zoë. Acupuncture works like this; the body is made up of two energies, the yin and the yang and acupuncture tries to balance the energies out, so healing whatever ails you. Those energies flow through meridians or pathways in the body which can be accessed and balanced by inserting tiny needles.
I lay down on the special bed in Zoë’s clinic and she chatted away quietly as she slipped in the needles. Some slipped in painlessly, others actually hurt which apparently is a good sign as those are the spots that will really help.
Later I felt better, again there was no ‘I’m cured’ moment but I did feel that my back had eased a little.
Another thing that interests me about my situation is that like a lot of people these days I look for solutions on the internet. As most things in cyberspace are connected especially by those cheeky little things called cookies, most of the adverts that I see online now seem to be about amazing cures for back pain. Everywhere I go I seem to be bombarded by items like the new miracle formula capsules that have enabled some old guy to take long walks again or some amazing potion that has not only enabled some arthritic old biddy to get out of bed but also to walk to the shops again, pain free!
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Like I said earlier, I don’t mind a little pain. It’s only to be expected when you’re getting older but I’m not yet daft enough to expect a miracle cure.
Still, how much were those miracle cure pills again?
It’s always good to pick up my iPad and see that my scheduled post has been successfully posted but the next task is to start thinking about a new one for next week. What can I write about? Has anything interesting happened to me? Have I read a great book or watched something good on TV? No? Well, that’s me up the creek without a paddle then.
Once, many years ago, I had a cigarette vending round. I visited pubs in Merseyside, serviced their ciggy machines, filled them with cigarettes and took away the cash. A lot of the time I was in a hurry to get going to the next site. Even so, I would never turn down a cuppa and so many times I would have to drink a steaming hot cup of tea quickly so I could move on. The faster I worked, the earlier I finished and I very soon developed the knack of drinking hot tea,
If the weather stays warm we might stay outside for a barbecue and these days rather than getting the coals ready, lighting them three or four times before they finally get going and getting my favourite shorts covered in coal dust and grease, we nowadays use our little portable gas barbecue. Perhaps I could write a barbecue post? Well, I could probably write a barbecue section of perhaps another foodie post but an entire barbecue post? Probably not.
These days I’m retired but back in my working days I sometimes dreamt about having a really interesting job. You know, something special, something really interesting, something out of the ordinary, something like a Hurricane Namer. Let’s face it, someone out there has to do it; someone has to name those pesky hurricanes. Whenever I was having a bad day at work I used to think that one day I’d search just that little bit harder, go that extra mile and maybe, just maybe I’d land a job like that.

I retired in 2022 so I don’t have to get off to work every day and, unlike many bloggers and amateur writers, I don’t have to struggle for writing time. Even so, my motivation to get up and write next week’s blog post has been a little deflated by the bad weather. Still, in a few days we will be in April my favourite time of the year. The days are getting longer and warmer and soon Liz and I will be off to France in our small motorhome.


It’s that time of the year when Liz and I depart for the substantially warmer climes of Lanzarote. I wrote a post a while ago called 


This will be my 592nd post and as you can imagine I sometimes struggle for new ideas. Scrolling through the internet the other day I chanced on something about Robin Williams and the post mentioned the film Dead Poets Society. It isn’t one of my favourite films but if you’ve ever seen it you might remember the poem O Captain My Captain by Walt Whitman which features a lot in the film. It got me thinking about Captains so I thought I might kick of this post with a few words about my favourite captain, James T Kirk.
I had a huge amount of recorded music of course. By the mid-seventies my record collection was already pretty big and I was buying vinyl records, usually 45 rpm singles, every week. My tape recorder had a built-in radio so I could record my favourite tracks straight onto tape for free and I spent a lot of time taping the new top twenty which came out every Tuesday. The other thing I could do with my tape recorder was record myself with a microphone.
