The Hunchback of the Ibiza Villa

It's my last day in rehabilitation (physiotherapy) today. By the end of the afternoon I'll have;
travelled 1200 km by car
travelled 300 km by bike
been humiliated in public 13 times by having my leg thrust behind my neck
been called a girl twice
had enough electricity pumped through my knee to light every bulb in SYP
learned two new words in Spanish
pins and needles = ants
cramp = a BIG pull
and can now eat a banana using my right foot.

What a pity I still have all the charm, demeanour and gait of Charles Laughton ascending to the belfry at Notre Dame when I go upstairs to peg the washing out on the roof!

I Don't Want to go to Rehab (Ibiza mix)

No, no,no!

Don't worry, I'm not giving up ale, but I've started my rehabilitation programme for my knee.

The reason I don't want to go has no connection with the muscle wrenching, bone crunching, heart pounding, lung bursting, tongue twisting exercises I have to do for 2 hours every day. No, that's easy and painless in comparison to listening to the two hours of top 40 Latino sounds playing constantly on the giant telly in the gym.

Here's Rosario with Cuentame Que te Paso


Anyone else think she's a bloke?