The limp, as it happens, is caused by a pretty niggling and stupid to explain childhood injury. It's not visible most of the time and for the majority of my life I can walk perfectly fine. However occasionally it will pop up and remind me of it's place in my existence. Turns out, right, that the muscle in my knee didn't grow as fast as the bone did. I got told this when I was 13, and that as a cause of such a lazy muscle the bones would sometimes rub together, thus creating pain. At the time I was given physio, which I did because back then I used to listen to advice, and the pain largely went away. Years went by without it returning, until a couple of years ago when it did just that. So now, every once in a while without much warning, I will end up walking like a hermit for a couple of days. That's that explained.
However that's not really the point of all this. That's more a starter, a taste test to see if you want the main. If you don't, feel free to go elsewhere. This restaurant only serves one kind of meal and that's a large helping of aimless bullshit on a plate of deep fried nonsense. Sounds appetising and like it will clog your arteries if you so much as sniff it. Still, you only live once and arteries are over rated I reckon.
So imagine you were me, yesterday. Right? Are you there? You look pretty now. You're walking kind of funny and you have a fairly questionable pair of trainers on, but apart from that, darling, you're divine. You, or as you shall be known for the rest of this tale, I, wake up a good hour before my alarm is due to go off. My bladder is getting impatient. Those first steps you take upon awakening are very similar to watching a baby try and totter about. The world seems like a pretty scary place at 6am and obstacles you knew all about a few hours earlier now pose a much deadlier threat. Turns out, whilst sleeping, I'd forgotten my leg hurt. I boldly stretched it out in a manner that normal people would, falling near flat on my face as it caved in under the pressure of my body on top of it. It was soon after that that I remembered my leg hurt.
Matters dealt with and gladiator-esque challenges avoided, I returned to bed for what was actually another 55 minutes of kip but what seemed more like 30 seconds. It was the start of a busy day, of which normally I'm a huge fan of, but this time there was an undertone that I couldn't quite remember. It was niggling at the back of my mind like a pervert outside a school; feeling sort of uneasy but ultimately causing no harm until it's far too late to realise it's danger. I quite enjoyed being oblivious to this odd selection of metaphor and, after grappling with climbing in to the shower with only one working leg, set about my day with that familiar sense of enthusiasm I am often greeted with when unaware of problems I have forgotten completely about.
Despite the walk to uni taking twice as long and countless funny looks from people who I'm sure were thinking, "That guy walks funny and I'm positive looking at him will make him feel better about the situation," my day got off to a pretty bright start. It's strange for me to talk about real life, because, well, it's quite boring, so I won't be all tedious and tell you about what actually happened. I'll instead conjure up a story similar to what happened and you can have fun in being confused by what I'm sure will turn out a fairly poor analogy.
Aladdin rubs lamp. Genie comes out. Genie grants Aladdin three wishes and Aladdin says, "To be honest I'd quite like some half decent ads to show for the crit today, perhaps for Lincoln to win tonight and for that niggling problem that I've forgotten completely about to sort itself out and end as well as it possibly can."
In reality, two of those things happened. The Genie has done good. He can now be freed from his lamp because of how we trapped Jafar, or something along those Disney themed lines.
My crit went as they usually do: Really nice idea, good copy, shame you're terrible at art directing MAKE IT LOOK BETTER. I'm quite good at art, and I reckon I could make a decent film, but I seem to not be able to combine the two traits.
Other things then happen. They're not all that fun, so I'll summarise with a list in an attempt to not send myself to sleep by being reminded of them: I eat a sausage bap, I help out at some fayre thing, I look funny going down stairs, I ignore Topman sale signs, I use a lift to get up one floor, I buy a drink, I get told things I should have paid attention to but probably didn't because of that damn niggling issue eating away at my concentration.
Is it that I've got cancer and I've forgotten? Am I really Jesus and am yet to start in any real sense saving humanity? Is it a combination of both and God is feeling pretty stupid for giving his own son such a terrible condition? No, it's not. The chances were always slim. Did I have to walk up a mountain of stairs to find out? Yes I did! Of all the days in all the weeks in all the years of my life, today is the day stairs decide to impose themselves upon me.
Did it end well? Well the stairs didn't, no. They hurt. Nor did the other thing, really, but at least it won't niggle any more. Instead I can just put in on the pile of other things in my life that haven't gone to plan.
A pile which includes actually being Jesus.