Bugger (and other Anglo Saxon phrases)

I've hurt my back. Not a twinge of upcoming old age but the good old fashioned sear of pain and the inability to walk upright thereafter. I got out of the shower this morning (sorry if you're eating and that image has put you off) and started to dry myself and there was an almight shooting pain down the lower part of my back slightly right of centre. It was blood agony. I couldn't even get my socks and shoes on but like a consumate professional struggled into work.

I've been dosing up on the ibuprofen today and managed to get a brief physio session (a benefit of working in a hospital) which nearly reduced me to tears but did take the edge off. It's one of those real nasty ones that no matter how you sit or stand it's always niggling away. I've got some decent painkillers now and a hot water bottle is doing the business. I'm pretty hacked off though as I was going to go to the range tonight as I haven't hit a ball since Sunday (badly as regular followers will know) and wanted to do some work on the swing.

I've got a roll up game booked for Saturday morning and I'm due off at 9.10am for the monthly stableford on Sunday. Neither are looking promising at the moment. I know I haven't been playing well but the course is starting to look good after the hard winter and the greens are pretty speedy but true (even after hollow tining). Just as everything is getting going this happens. I guess it's the golf on the TV tonight and a flick through the golf magazines. I'm not a happy camper