It was back on 23 May that I made mention of the latest calamity to assail Big Fat Pig's ageing body - plantar fasciitis in the left foot. I''ll tell you what, it's bloody painful. It has put a real crimp in my golf season (I wear a strap and layers of padding on the offending appendage) and I have had to admit defeat and use a trolley, something I loathe doing. I played (very unsuccessfuly) my first round without the trolley on Tuesday and was foot-sore aferwards but will persist. I'm such a martyr.
More trying than the injurious effect on my golf game, is the fact that I had been hoping to get myself a little slimmer for Daughter Number One's wedding in September in that London. Running is out of the question and even the precious bike was impossible when the pain was at its worst. However I am now back on the mean streets on the bike and thereby acquiring a feeling of outrageous well-being. I even mangaged an ascent of the Col de Hillwood this morning. Even better news for those of you who worry about the Pig's immense sense of self-esteem, he has been measured for a ludicrously expensive suit, so he will look gorgeous on the big day. The Pig's style guru (better known to you as Daughter Number Two) accompanied him to the fitting so everything will be in the best possible taste. Now let's turn our attention to that speech.
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