This is a cautionary tale: Beware elderly Promming ninjas.
(for non-Brits, this is the BBC Proms, as in the classical music series that results in the (in)famous Last Night at the Proms, the 'kerchief wearing, Union Jack waving, Land of Soap and Water night of all things British - well English anyway).
I was down for a few Proms gigs (Mahler and Stravinsky mainly), went for a wander around my usual haunts on Saturday, including getting some Asafoetida which no matter where I am, proves difficult to find. Thanks to the Borough market for supplying it.
Headed to the Proms, thoroughly enjoyed it, and felt twinges in my foot during the second half. Meh, thought I, a manly man, simply a grumpy muscle. Things got worse during the night, to the point where I couldn't sleep, so had a shower figuring if it was muscular that should relieve pain.
That didn't work. So poked at it. This located the (very) sore part, and from my years of explaining anatomy (badly) to impressionable 1st years, I figured I'd broken a metatarsal, or in language the Brits will understand, the footballers injury. I pottered off the hospital early Sunday morning, managing to split between the drunks leaving, and the kids sports injuries coming in (result!). My diagnosis was treated with a patronising grunt.
Poking was done, until I called time on that. An Xray of the offending foot, and voila, vindication ! Go me. Since I had a reasonably heavy Sunday and Monday, a cast was slapped on, pain relief drugs provided, and a stern warning provided not to put weight on the cast, or get it wet.
I crutched (is this a verb?) off, promptly got caught in a London mini-torrential downpour (mini in time, not torrential-ness), caught a bus, then had to cope with the tube. The tube is distinctly unfriendly to people with: suitcases, wheelchairs, crutches, indeed any minor ambulatory ailment is ruthlessly exploited.
As you'll have guessed the cast was a bit of a mess even before the Proms that evening. Pain was present, and so that magic elixir, booze, was employed. Things improved dramatically. Great gig.
So what caused this eventful cast inducing break? I'm putting it down to those grey haired elderly classical loving prom going retired ninja's.
A more prosaic view could be me slipping when getting out of bed, slamming the great toe against the door, and causing merriment to S and I since it didn't hurt, rather it just looked dumb.
Love, your new favourite grumpy cripple, B