Next Entry: Tainted Love It's been about four months since my surgeon told me in cricketing parlance that I was “on my bike” and until I next saw him that I was not to ride my bike. This week I decided to defy these orders a few weeks ahead of schedule, primarily because if my completely healthy wrist ligament cannot survive a low-speed impact with the pavement, what hope does any function of time have for it to do better?
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