So, let’s start with a bit of housekeeping. It’s five weeks since I broke my shoulder. Last Monday I had a second appointment at fracture clinic. In a nutshell the news was good. Bone is growing nicely, the shoulder is securely in place and won’t come out of place again for anything short of another accident like the one that caused it in the first place. If I’m honest I think the doctor really didn’t want me to think about work for another fortnight, but he said I could discuss an earlier return with them. So I did and I’m starting back part time tomorrow.
What a difference a couple of years makes! Over my last 8
years as a teacher I had a number of extended absences with depression. And
when you get right down to it, the prospect of coming to the end of those absences
and going back to work did not make me happy, as the thought of tomorrow now
does. If I’m honest it always filled me with dread. Well, that was then and this
is now. So, fingers crossed it goes well.
This blog post is the first thing that I have typed two
handed since the accident. I’m getting more movement in my upper arm, but I’m
not there yet. Well, I’m no spring chicken any more.
Being the kind of person that I am I couldn’t help wondering
about the derivation of the phrase, spring chicken. Yeah, I know it sounds obvious,
but actually, like many idioms, it does come down to superstition and ignorance.
Apparently in the 18th century farmers believed that a chicken born
in the spring would have more tender meat than one born in the Autumn or Winter,
which would have been toughened up by having to survive a British winter when
tiny. Cobblers, but there you go.
One upshot of the injury was that for the first two or
three weeks I found it really difficult to handwrite. I’m righthanded, yes, but
not being able to hold down an answer sheet with my left hand made me come to
the decision that Jess was going to have to write down our answers. And to be
honest, she did it too well for my liking. Joking. But let’s be honest, one
really shouldn’t underestimate the power of the penwielder in a pub quiz. The
pen really is mightier than the sword, although I shouldn’t take that phrase
too literally if you ever do have the misfortune to find yourself in a
swordfight.
Incidentally, did you know who came up with that little
pearl of wisdom? Edward Bulwer-Lyttton. Yes, that’s right, Edward Bulwer–Whothehell?
Well, Bulwer-Lytton was actually one of Britain’s most popular novelists and
dramatists in the immediate pre-Dickens period. He had a prodigious output,
although sadly in my opinion not much of it is actually much good. I’ve tried
reading several of his novels, including The Last Days of Pompeii, but I’ve never
managed to finish them. Don’t take my word for it. One of the most famous
phrases coined by him was “It was a dark and stormy night “, the first sentence
of the dreary “Paul Clifford”. This was the reason why the annual contest for
the worst opening sentence to a novel was named the Bulwer-Lytton prize.
Not that you should feel too sorry for poor old Edward. He
was a pretty successful politician and was made a baron in 1866. While better
remembered novelists like Dickens and Thackeray privately had no great love for
Bulwer-Lytton’s writing, they found him a good friend. Supposedly it was
Bulwer-Lytton who persuaded Dickens to rewrite the ending of Great Expectations
to say that Pip and Estella would get together in the future. Which is actually
quite a comforting thought. We can’t all expect to produce great works of Art
and Literature, but at least we can try to be a good friend. Even if it was a
dark and stormy night.
