Under the radar

When I reached the age of thirty, I was helping my father-in-law do some gardening when I bent over to pick up a leaf and I felt a twang somewhere in my lumbar region. This twang put me completely out-of-action for a week or so afterwards. My GP had simply smiled and said, “welcome to

Postcard from Osteoporopolis

Warning: Tired travel analogies may continue to be employed in this post. “I know the C word and the F word. The C word is cor blimey, and the F word is flippin’ ‘eck” – Rat, lead singer of Chesterfield based punk band The Bland on stage at the Take Two club, Attercliffe c.1988 It’s

A postcard from Limboland

A month ago, if you asked me how tall I was, I’d say I was a six footer. It seems I’m not. I’m a five-foot-ten-and-a-half short-arse apparently, so essentially I’ve lost an inch and a half (4cm) in height. Even if you consider I may have always rounded up by half an inch, and I