A Footnote In History

Whenever I go anywhere, something always happens to my feet.

I once travelled to Disney Land in Florida with my sister, and having suffered the terror of flying in a plane that looked too big to get off the ground let alone stay in the sky I suffered the indignity of spending several days in a wheelchair. The heat was so intense that it melted the soles of my shoes and they stuck to my feet. I then had to wear several pairs of inappropriate shoes, which caused massive blisters so that I couldn’t walk. That’s not an exaggeration on my part for once: I literally couldn’t walk!

Previous trips to London have also resulted in blister problems, and this time I came prepared with plasters, special insoles and the like. Only two small blisters were sustained which quickly went away. Alas, on leaving the Oval on day two, something went wrong with my left foot: something seemed to tear whilst coming down the stairs from the Wedlake Bell stand. I spent the next few days hopping and hobbling on one foot, and probably whining and moaning about it a great deal.

I’d like to apologise to all the Rampants who had to put up with my feeble attempts at getting around London on one leg, especially Lorna who probably got the worst of it. The bottom line is that I’m not fit any more: a year away from the exercise bike has turned me into Jabba the Hutt. So, whilst the cricket season winds slowly to its conclusion, and whilst I turn my blogging focus from cricket to Strictly Come Dancing until the New Year, I hope to put the coming months of non-cricket to good use and try to get my figure back. I didn’t always resemble a burst pillow, you know. I can remember at least one year when I didn’t look like Cosgrove...

Foot update, for those who are interested: swollen, but otherwise okay.

You know that thing that small children do when they want their parents to be proud of them? Give them some extraordinary tale of what they’ve been up to in the hope their gargantuan efforts will be praised? Well, Liz and I decided to walk to the Oval from our Hotel in Tavistock Square in light of the tube strike on the Tuesday. I have to admit that I wanted to do it: a chance to walk through London rather than simply pass through a series of dark tunnels in rush hour seemed just the thing! And we completed it in an hour and a half! I was feeling so proud of my little unfit self as it seemed to be several thousand miles in distance.

Imagine how crestfallen I was to discover it was hardly any distance at all.

Next time I’m taking roller skates...