On topic

As Bid pointed out to me over a pint of Harvey’s a few days ago, this blog is in danger of becoming ‘off-task’. It is sadly true that I very rarely find myself with my foot up these days. But if I am to briefly remain on-topic, there have, in fact, been some key recent developments in my rehabilitation. I have started work again as a full-time opera singer. If freelance opera singing can ever be described as full-time. And yesterday, I was signed off by my physiotherapist. It is a little disappointing that my first cover role after the accident is as a chief of police with a scar, and that I found myself in a physiotherapy department today trying to make William do what he was told, but the general news is good. The only remaining elements of my recovery involve getting some insoles made, and doing enough stretching and exercise to ensure that if I ever have to break into a run, I don’t resemble a cross between Olivier’s Richard III and a pregnant penguin. I really must get to the gym. Anyway, for the sake of continuity, I’ve attached a picture of my most recent x-ray. This is me ‘healed’.

Further astonishing developments have occurred elsewhere. Despite some lingering incompetence from various sub-contractors dealing with my flat, there is every chance that some builders might start work there this week. A huge step forward, despite the fact that Thames Water will doubtless flood it again within the month. And, even more pleasingly, it seems that William’s release papers have finally been signed. If all goes according to plan, he should be at home by the middle of next week. The challenge of looking after him gets ever more complicated – I have now taken to trying to make sense of them in a ‘manual’ – but life should still be significantly easier with him back. And if I no longer have to sleep on the floor, then Hope will have somewhere to sleep when she is driven out of her bedroom by her sister’s snoring. Earlier this evening I discovered evidence of an aborted attempt at camping out in the bath.

Sarah is determined to celebrate the return to family life by celebrating the Christmas that we didn’t have. I must admit to struggling a little with this concept. I’m not sure I fancy another round of crippling hangovers and being force-fed brazil nuts and brussels sprouts. I might be more agreeable if I could convince the family that a Bond film is an essential part of the traditional festivities. I don’t fancy my chances. However, I have thrown myself at sorting out William’s present. I decided to build him a wooden train set that would perch on the coffee table. Which seemed a great idea until I tried to put together the track. As I started a third hour fruitlessly trying to jam together pieces from assorted Ikea trips, charity shop buys and presents from relatives, it was becoming increasingly clear that this was a task approaching the building of the new Wembley in terms of its complexity and likelihood of arriving late and enormously over-budget. I had no idea that the construction of a track designed for three-year-olds would require such expertise. A glance at the various layout plans on the web should have alerted me to the problem. Grown men spend significant portions of their time building these tracks, and creating detailed architectural plans. I had been hoping to get the job done in time to finish a glass of wine in front of Newsnight. I am pleased to report that the track is still not created.

No quality footage today I’m afraid. But some fairly grainy and, I’m afraid, sideways footage of William mugging to camera. As the face of CHASE – his hospice – William managed to raise them a record sum of over £40,000 in their winter campaign. As you can see, such photogenic quality doesn’t come without hard work.