Back-ache is a pain in the…

…derrière.

Upgrading the kid’s satellite dish to HD was actually a pretty easy job.  Picture me, six feet and seventy kilos of finely honed skin and bone, clinging like some storm battered limpet to the top of my ladder.  With several extra kilos of weirdly shaped metal, ominously drifting around above me, at the end of my outstretched arm…

It was only the next day when I realised I’d torn the muscles at the base of my spine…  And only a few blithly-ignorant days later, when the dull ache decided to unleash itself and accelerate, with the ferocity of a rogue firecracker in a munitions factory, from mild irritation to extreme agony (and, yes, I’m talking serious man-flu proportions here), that I realised I had to rest up and not do anything for a while.

Hmmm…  I’m not much good at doing nothing.

It’s a real pain in the ****!

(Now, where’s the remote gone, I know it’s got to be in this duvet somewhere..?)