Return Of the Fat Ankle

  I would like you to imagine that I am typing this in the most obscene opulence.  I am in a palatial gazebo, reclining upon a chaise longue, while being wafted by giant feather, er, wafters in this oppressive heat (honestly, it's like Duncan Goodhew here - airless).  Whatever you do, don't picture the reality - which is me sitting in a hot lounge, having just eaten a Chinese takeaway, and listening to the radio on the internet. 

  Life is full of mysteries, folks.  Why do electricians finally turn up just at the exact moment you sat on the toilet?  How can mobile phone signal just disappear when you haven't moved, leaving you waving the damned thing in the air like a tricorder?  How on Earth is it possible to only have a bit of chocolate & leave the rest of the slab in the fridge?  There is one prevalent mystery in my life, Blogwatchers, and now it is the most perfect of timings to introduce you to my Fat Ankle.

  It was Summer, 2006.  One week in July, I got a small pain in my ankle, which felt like a bruise.  Within a couple of days, my ankle-bone was rather hard to discern among the swelling.  What was worse was being unable to put any weight on it.  On my way to work one Sunday (which at that point involved a train journey), my foot gave way and I fell over.  This, coupled with my already-slow pace, meant that I missed my train, and when I finally did get to work, I spent most of the day sweating profusely in an un-air-conditioned shop, lying down with my foot atop a box.

  Naturally (and this is another of life's mysteries), the pain had subsided by the time I went to see a doctor with it, the following day.  She was baffled, and said the only thing my ankle put her in mind of (apart from a grapefruit) was gout.  Seeing as I don't drink much alcohol, and do drink a pretty good amount of water, and I don't eat a massive amount of rich food, it was hard to know what could be causing it.  Blood tests didn't show much to help either.  (As an aside, I informed a manager about the falling-over-with-swollen-ankle that caused me to be late, and when I then told her that my doctor reckoned it might be gout, she said "You can't get gout from falling over!", which is true, but reversing that logic for a moment, you can fall over from gout.)

  Now it's 2012, and it has reoccurred about twice, missing out a year or two, which makes me forget that it happened, until now.  You can now picture me sitting at my computer if you wish, but now imagine me putting my foot up on a drumstool.  The pain bit has started, and I'm hoping it doesn't go to drastic swelling, otherwise I will be hauling myself to my gigs this week with a walking stick (a rather nice deep blue wooden stick, if you're curious).

  So, Blogwatchers, this is where I am.  Elevated and listening to the radio.  If any of you have a feathery wafting thing, make your way here post-haste!

Ta-ta,

John xx