Rugby knees Up at a decadent 11.00am. Belated muesli, then Lorraine and I shot off for spot of shopping in Brighton. This included speaking to a toweringly fit Gordie podiatrist called Tim about feet and knees. He told me to take my knee to the doctor, and that it is a typical ex-rugby player's knee. I nodded gravely as if to indicate that I had just, with great reluctance, retired from an international career, rather than just having scuffed about for my school team decades ago. Some hours later I returned home empty handed having tried on 800 sensible v-necked jumpers which all seem to be cut too short in the body. It would seem I have a vermiform back. In the evening off to Cathy's place for a dinner party. She had invited her friend Colin, who Lorraine had already told me was very like my pal Carl. Something about him was very Carl-like, he was funny in a Watsonish way, and he had similar mannerisms and so on. Colin however was a physics teacher, and we found we had lots of...
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