Let's get Physio PHYSIO

I thought that when I broke my arm I would be in a cast for a few weeks, get loads of sympathy and then the cast would come off and I would be back to normal.

What a crock of shit.

Two weeks out and my arm is still about as dextrous as a dead pig's trotter - I went for my first physiotherapy session today. I have no idea where I get these rosey misconceptions from but I had it in my head that I would go to see the doctor - they would crack my hand about a bit and then, magically, it would be loads better and I would be able to get back on my bike and pick up things that are heavier than crisps.

However in real life it turns out I go behind the mint green curtain of pain to be tutted at for not doing enough self therapy and then tortured half to death by a man with a smile that says 'don't swear, don't whimper - can you hear any whimpering from the old ladies behind the other curtains? I don't think so - so shhh'

I'm going back in ten days and he said if I havn't been putting myself through the same pain on a near constant basis he will put bamboo splints up my fingernails and needles in my teeth.

...fuckin NHS