Entry for 17th July, 2008

I was listening to a programme on the radio the other night, and a dentist was commenting on the fact that a human's teeth aren't really designed/evolved (depending on where you stand on the whole evolution/creation spectrum) to last beyond the age of 40. I found it a bit depressing, and resolved to floss more often.
However, I fear the dentist was correct. In fact, I suspect that our whole bodies are indleibly marked with a similar "Sell By" Date. Cut my left arm open and, like a stick of Blackpool Rock, you will find the words "Expires End January, 2008".
I have been venturing once more onto the five a-side football pitch, having found a new group of players who are prepared to put up with a lumbering fatboy with the silky touch of a grounded manitee. Three times I have played, and three times I have been injured. The latest of the three being the most spectacular, as I stretched for a ball that was threaded past me, I felt something in my thigh actually go "ping". Inside my head, it made the noise that a piano wire makes when it snaps.
There was then a little gap in my thoughts.
Then I though: "Oooh. That was sore."
Then, still inside my head as far as I know, there was a little boy crying for his mummy.