poliphilo

Ailz dropped something on the floor and I found myself wondering whether it would hurt me more to pick it up than it would hurt her- and realised there was no way of telling. Funny thing, pain- you can't measure it objectively. I know I'm hurting as I sit here typing, but I don't know whether I'm bravely downplaying my level of discomfort or ridiculously over-hyping it. If it became insupportable I'd go and lie down- so there's a cut-off point, but up until that point is reached it's very hard to quantify.

Yesterday I got so achy dawdling round Lidl's with my mother-in-law that I went and sat in the car, but that was because I was bored. If I'd been going round a ruined abbey with my camera I'd have ignored the twinges. When you're doing something you enjoy you can over-ride the pain. You do it without thinking. Pain melts away in fun. You hear of elderly actors hobbling on-stage and then bouncing around like little fawns once they're in character.

There are advantages to being a bit of a crock. I'm sure I'm not the only one to exploit them. I find I can turn to younger people and say "You carry that because I can't," and they'll do it.