Note to self: no Greek jokes

No sooner did I compare myself to Achilles (or at least my choice not to emulate him), than I discovered that not being Achilles simply meant I’d hurt my knee rather than my heel. You see, a couple of weeks ago I had one of those important bonding sessions with my new colleagues – you know the sort: new contractor, senior position, essential to be approachable, human and yet unquestionably authoritative.

Falling flat on your face in front of half the company, and within earshot of the other half, can rather undermine the whole authoritative bit. Thankfully, they appear to respect the cojones of falling over like a halfwit quite so publicly, so I’ve ridden it out… except for the knees. A couple of weeks on anti-flu meds neatly masked the symptoms, but it turns out that the crucial bits on the insides are rather swollen and increasingly rather painful.

So it’s back to a diet of anti-inflammatories, and a great excuse to spend the weekend watching scifi b-movies with my feet up. My only word of warning: if you’re going to watch Repo: the Genetic Opera, read the back cover properly beforehand. By no means be taken by surprise that it’s a goth opera and fully expect comedy gore alongside the PVC. And do have some wire on-hand to rehinge your jaw afterwards.

Amazingly, this was not the worst film we saw this weekend (it wasn’t good, per se, but it was … impressive. In the same way a large rock falling impresses itself on a landscape, perhaps, but nonetheless).