I’m not very patient. No, really I’m not.

I’m still persevering with my NHS walking stick and, to be honest, for the most part I feel a bit of a fraud. Ok, ok, I do still feel a little bit drunk all the time (at least that’s how I’m told it feels) so I understand I shouldn’t drive or operate heavy machinery, but most of the time I really don’t see the need to walk with a stick.

Right up to the time when I fall over, that is.

For some reason I list to starboard. Whenever I attempt to walk ten yards without the aid of my lump of wood, I end up scraping my shoulder on the wall, or taking dangerous lunges towards the kerb. It’s difficult to explain. At least I thought it would be before I remembered this:

Oh Bugger.

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