Please allow me to confess at the outset that these few words reach you via the good offices of the young man with the wire in his ear who not only typed out my wobbling scrawl, but also climbed on to his powerful motor bike and delivered my Thought for the Day to the Pangolin Offices, for I, dear reader, am hors de combat.
I have often heard people say they have a “bad back” and I have thought nothing of it. Not now. It is most unpleasant. My doctor thinks it very unusual for one so wiry and fit to succumb in this way.My lady wife and I regularly engage in somewhat aggressive games of ping pong.
My principles prevent me from seeking private treatment, so I and the young man with the wire in his ear caused something of a stir in the waiting room at St Edna’s, our local NHS hospital. I was asked several times if I’d come to perform the last rites and autographed at least six plastered arms and legs.
And so, my dear friends, this missive to you is necessarily shorter than normal but I should like to sign off with a thought I had last week. It concerned the reburial of Richard III and the thousands of people who queued round the block to pay their respects. I found it strangely moving and uplifting.
Richard had a bad back, didn’t he?