Posted tagged ‘Great British Railway Journeys’

Are We Human?

December 6, 2014

Two recent unrelated episodes have alerted me into the realisation that I am mortal, that I am the same as any other human, that I am not eternal.

My sporting life has kept me fit and I have steered clear of serious injuries through the years. Only that other famousGraham Alexander and resilient Scot, Graham Alexander of Preston North End and Burnley FC, has played more football games than me. We have both not needed to use the Alexander Graham Bell invention and phone in sick. Made from girders the two of us. Then there’s my tennis matches. The elbow has always been fine, me being the school tennis champion and all that.

And then there was a twinge.

The left thigh was not quite right. Against UN regulations a niggling little pain was invading the muscle and my anti-bodies had gone on strike. Coming out in solidarity with them, the workers had downed tools at the knee and another pain arrived further down the leg and now I’m fighting a war on two fronts. Being interrogated at length many times by the grilling ogres at the Business Blogger Select Committee I have a high pain resilience. And I don’t do doctors.

But the twinge was annoying.

I done the doctors and got medication. Medication is all you need, he trumpeted. It did help but I was sorry to lose my record breaking don’t-visit-the-doctor award. Further outstanding medical advice were to take a break and put the feet up. What? I am to become just like everybody else. This is not good. I am bullet proof. I am titanium. Not tin.

There I was, sat on the couch with tins of beer for friendship and kinship, trekking through the TV channels with the remote control until I disembarked at a programme called Great British Railway Journeys; this was not the terrain I was looking for. In the few instances I’ve cradled a train it has always been my misfortune to be the last to find a seat and thus be stuck on the worst throne on the ship(sic)- the seat facing backwards. I can’t see where I’m going but I can see where I’ve been. That’s a great title for a song. Where’s my harp?

Back to the programme which is presented by Michael Portillo. This was unappealing to me, not something I’d normally chu-chu choose, and could be a long ride. I coasted the first couple of minutes and then I was in the zone. I could not take my eyes off the telly. This was stimulating television. I found myself enjoying the transmission so much that I stayed until the terminus and checked the guide for future episodes. This should not be happening to me.  I should be immune to this. This is terrible. What with the dodgy thigh and the dodgier TV viewing have I become one of the last of the summer wine?

What comes next? Radio 4? Woolly cardigans? Complain about the weather? Play golf? Worry about the rubbish? Phone for free Which guides? Laugh at Bruce Forsyth jokes? This ain’t gonna happen. The kid gloves are off and the football boots are back on. I’m not phoning in sick again.