In fact my limp is so minimal now that I’m convinced it looks like those kinds of limps that people who can’t be bothered walking faster affect during tramping expeditions. The kind that occasionally, inadvertently, changes leg. I’m still seeing the physiotherapist often and I reckon she’s performed magic.
I feel obliged to mention with some gratitude that almost all the treatment I received for this injury has been paid, not unlike my wages, by the people of New Zealand through our taxes. Thanks one and all. It makes me feel like I live in a very caring society indeed.
Today National Radio played a song for me. They’ve finally realised that their audience are not dominated by people over 70 and retired the darling Wayne Mowat in favour of Jim Mora and a much more entertaining and, dare I say, contemporary programme. Gone are the endless interviews with homeopaths specialising in bark flower remedies for domestic pets and in their place is an interesting magazine programme that encourages audience participation.
Immediately I developed this impression (one that radio has the unique power to induce, but that is not achieved my most commercial broadcasters these days as they’re run by computers) that the National Radio was broadcasting for me and a few of my mates. I decided to put this theory to the test and sent a suggestion for their “Greatest Song of All Time” section through the email. Quickly I received a reply offering not only to play the song, but asking to interview me as a short prelude. I agreed, of course.
No sooner was my song played [“She Speeds”, by the Straightjacket Fits, in case you’re curious] than I began to receive texts from people all over the country. QED.
I love living in a small country.