After making a successful escape run on the Wednesday before Christmas, I've been getting used to managing back at home. My mobility has increased wonderfully, and I'm now getting around on public transport - I even managed to get to Kingston University under my own steam on Tuesaday. I can manage without a stick now - although it does come in useful in crowds for tripping people up before they bump into me, or for getting a seat on public transport, and it does help to dispell the impression that my uneven gait and sometimes slightly slurred speech are the result of alcoholic intoxication (well at least to strangers).

I received a letter from the hospital last week, announcing that the entry from Linda and I, had won the first prize in the physioterrorist's Christmas quiz. I was worried that this might be a ruse to re-capture me, but I managed to make my getaway with th £25 OK. Incidently although someone else equalled our score in the quiz, I won because I'd entered a tie-break limerick and they hadn't. This had to be about the hospital or a member of staff, and remembering my buxom physio Kay, I submitted:

A sexy young physio called Kay,
Protudes in a delightful way.
When she asked me to squeeze,
I thought, Oh yes please,
But my fingers just wouldn't obey.

Strangely enough it was by a similiar method that I discovered some movement in my right hand while I was in bed with Linda one night, a few weeks ago . . .

Unfortunately, since leaving hospital, I have not had any more physio. This is because I'm now the responsibility of my own health authority, Greenwich and they had a waiting list. I have at last received an appointment for Monday, so hopefully I can start making some further progess with getting functionality back in my right arm - I hope the Greenwich physios offer the same sort of motivation that Kay and her colleagues did though.