Saturday 25 January 2014

Quizzing



IT APPEARS we’ve become addicts to TV quiz shows. The likes of University Challenge, Pointless and Tipping Point never go by without us giving them a viewing.

The last two we often record for later in the evening, so keen are we to get our daily “fix”.

And sometimes we feel a sense of personal triumph when we get a good answer.

It’s just a little unfortunate that the two subjects that people find the most interesting are also the two we are usually hopeless at: sport and pop music.

With the exception, perhaps, of Wimbledon we’ve no interest in sporting achievements or the people who accomplish them.

And the sort of music we do enjoy bears no relationship to contemporary pop – or indeed to the pop of the last few decades. Anything much after the 1960s is really a closed book to us.

But ask us questions on literature – especially the classical stuff – French chanson, food and wine, history and geography and we’re in our element. In other words the very subjects that most contestants dread.

So, on the odd occasion when I do get a sporty- or poppy-type question right the sense of accomplishment is all the more satisfying. Especially so when the other competitors fail to answer correctly.

I just hope we’re not getting unhealthily competitive.

Thursday 16 January 2014

A punishing therapy


I’M LYING on my side on the examination table, while the physiotherapist pummels my hip with fingers, hands and even elbows. A nice big bruise is already appearing…

And it seems, at the moment, I’m to endure this punishment twice weekly.

Rick is convinced that my hip pain is less to do with arthritis than with a lifetime of general slouchy-ness and flat feet.

Hence my new year has begun with this regular pounding.

And then, of course, there are the exercises I’m supposed to do at home – stretching, bending, leaning hard against a tennis ball wrapped in a sock.

All this is to try and re-educate my poor old muscles into giving me the support I really need.

I’m far from persuaded of the efficacy of all this; muscles that have been dormant for sixty-odd years are surely not going to suddenly spring into life, are they?

But Rick is sure of this treatment and is full of youthful enthusiasm and I don’t wish to rain on his parade.

So, my punishing therapy continues…

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