Dem bones dem bones....
Early Spring in Pietermaritzburg, a lovely mild day that almost cancels out the grime and squalour of the city centre where I am ensconced in the PostNet internet cafe. My orthopaedic surgeon is pleased with my progress after the double arthroscopy last week, and I am cautiously optimistic he may have temporarily alleviated some of the pain from my poor abused knees. All down to too much rugby as a kid and later at university I guess. Playing right wing (pure coincidence, that position, and nothing to do with my political standpoint) for sixteen years has played merry hell with the complicated set of ligaments, cartilages and tendons that occupy the middle of each leg. Of course being a fat bastard hasn't helped either. 5 weeks in Kuwait with no exercise and a diet of takeout curry has caused me to balloon like the Michelin Man. A far cry from my lean and mean 1979 self when Lee Waters and I were inducted into the Chaplin High School First XV.
The selfsame Waters is now a bearded and sun-leatherised resident of Brisbane. Wrinkly little bugger I must say, but still in superb physical nick for an elderly person. Perhaps gravity has less effect on midgets or something. In fact I daresay he is in much the same shape he was in twenty years ago whereas I am square and solid if not a little, er, comfortable shall we say. I saw Lee in January 2004 when I flew out there, incidentally meeting his wife's best friend who was a recently separated Australian woman with three kids. A complete disaster that was, and a lesson to us all. Never try to set your mates up with your wife's mates. And for us men, never try to date until at least two years have elapsed after your divorce. Oh well, I'm sure they will all eventually speak to me again some day.
But still, seeing my surgeon today (and a happy old Rhodesian bloke he is too, descendant of the famous "Matabele"Thompson who first wrung the concession from Lobengula) made me think how we mortgage our future health so easily, sacrificing it on the altar of work. I'm dead ready to downshift now to any profession that will pay my way and allow me to play sport every day. 20 years of international management and consulting have not made me noticeably happier or fitter and the few dollars I have made are all tied up in a house I seldom visit, in a country I find a little damp and grey for my liking. I don't mind the temperatures in the UK at all, but the absence of sunlight especially in December to February is a killer. And my funny little house is all tall and skinny, 5 bedrooms over three floors and nowhere near enough windows and garden for my liking.
But more of the Bracknell residence later, it is a tale well worth telling. I need to see if I can get into my work e-mail system from here and check what is happening back in Riyadh.
The selfsame Waters is now a bearded and sun-leatherised resident of Brisbane. Wrinkly little bugger I must say, but still in superb physical nick for an elderly person. Perhaps gravity has less effect on midgets or something. In fact I daresay he is in much the same shape he was in twenty years ago whereas I am square and solid if not a little, er, comfortable shall we say. I saw Lee in January 2004 when I flew out there, incidentally meeting his wife's best friend who was a recently separated Australian woman with three kids. A complete disaster that was, and a lesson to us all. Never try to set your mates up with your wife's mates. And for us men, never try to date until at least two years have elapsed after your divorce. Oh well, I'm sure they will all eventually speak to me again some day.
But still, seeing my surgeon today (and a happy old Rhodesian bloke he is too, descendant of the famous "Matabele"Thompson who first wrung the concession from Lobengula) made me think how we mortgage our future health so easily, sacrificing it on the altar of work. I'm dead ready to downshift now to any profession that will pay my way and allow me to play sport every day. 20 years of international management and consulting have not made me noticeably happier or fitter and the few dollars I have made are all tied up in a house I seldom visit, in a country I find a little damp and grey for my liking. I don't mind the temperatures in the UK at all, but the absence of sunlight especially in December to February is a killer. And my funny little house is all tall and skinny, 5 bedrooms over three floors and nowhere near enough windows and garden for my liking.
But more of the Bracknell residence later, it is a tale well worth telling. I need to see if I can get into my work e-mail system from here and check what is happening back in Riyadh.
posted by Shane Hodgson at 9:46 am
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