On Tuesday Robbie was limping when he got home, when I mentioned it he claimed that he had probably tied his new boots too tight that morning! I know when I am having the wool pulled over my eyes, but I decided to indulge him, if he really wanted to believe that tight shoe laces were the cause of his predicament. As always Robbie abandoned his clothes in favour of PJ's within a couple of minutes of getting home and it became clear that the limp (and the pain) remained even when he was plodding around in bare feet, and he grudgingly admitted that it had nothing to do with his new boots. By yesterday the pain and the difficulty in walking had increased and his frustration with the situation was reaching boiling point. He did a fair bit of walking in the course of his trip to and from Cardiff and by the time he got home at 8pm he was really struggling; his leg is being just as troublesome this morning. I cant help worrying about him, but hopefully he will get his hospital tests soon, once they understand what the problem I hope they will be able to sort him out. We can't have him walking like Spotty Dog for the rest of his life!
I'm not sure if Robbie's painful leg is affecting his brain, but he sent me the most bizarre text when he was heading home yesterday. It read, "I had a random conversation with myself about people who wear turn-ups and their associated footwear, today. It was rather funny!" He was a bit put out because I didn't reply, but how do you answer that, I was speechless. I may be a mine of useless information but my knowledge of the trouser turn-up is very limited, I am aware that they first became fashionable around 1912 and I think turn-ups and pockets in new garments were banned in the second world war, beyond that I pay very little attention to them. I do tend to notice men's footwear and socks, it is amazing how many people wear odd socks or socks that scream out at you because they clash with their trousers and their shoes.
Robbie's text reminded me of an embarrassing episode years ago when I worked in Plymouth. I had to take a lady to the dentist, she had spent a number of years in a mental hospital and her social skills were somewhat lacking. We sat quietly in the waiting room and there was a middle aged man in a suit sitting opposite reading a newspaper. Suddenly she leaned forward, tapped him on the knee and said, "oh, I do like your socks". The poor man was horrified, but shortly afterwards he was rescued when the dentist called him in.
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