I’ve been stuck in the hoose all weekend, when I should have been in Glen Coe. Under pressure of time and thinking of getting in an invoice, I lifted an item using poor technique on Friday and I felt something go in my upper back. It felt like pulling apart a McCowans toffee bar that had been heated in the sun.
A lifetime of moving heavy stuff undone in a moment of distraction. So, lying flat in front of the telly and meekly asking “Cuppas… cuppas… please…” has been the programme of events. Looks like nice weather out there too. Painkillers ago-go and doctor tomorrow if there’s no improvement.
Funny though, I haven’t been on a big trip for a few weeks and it has me feeling a little melancholy. That last trip to Sgurr nan Ceathremhnan was magical, it was more than I could have hoped for, and somehow it’s been enough for me for the past wee while. It’s like it was last flat Revel in the bag, I want to hold onto the flavour in case the next one’s a coffee.
At the same time, I’m desperate to get out and watch the sun set from a tent. The evenings are beautiful just now.
Ach what the hell. Maybe it should all be a little beyond my reach sometimes.