My Old Crusty was discharged from hospital last week after hip replacement surgery. Last time I spoke to him, he’d been moved to a public ward and sounded a bit dejected. Apparently his private room was required for some ‘old boy’. He perked up a bit when I pointed out that he was evidently considered a sturdy young snapper in comparison.
He’s not high-kicking around the house just yet (I’m sure he misses that particular creative outlet – he was always at it – used to drive Mum spare the way he kept knocking over table lamps). However, he’s in good form and getting about slowly