Physios & pork scratchings

Just been to the physio  for my second session.  Doc said I should be able to drive so gave it a try. Getting into the seat was a bit tricky

But managed to fold myself in and driving was fine.

Physio same as the first session: more incomprehensible instructions, including advice about diet, lifestyle, importance of losing weight, avoid fat, alcohol, processed foods, salt, and generally any sort of enjoyment.

Had a go on an exercise bike which made me feel incredibly virtuous so taking the physio's wise words to heart and as a reward, thought I'd treat myself to a pack of pork scratchings on the way home. Hadn't had them for years, but I used to love them with a pint of guinness at the pub.

Rock-hard and hairy on one side (only the english could have a snack with hair on it), with a lovely half-inch of salty pork fat on the other side: delicious.

Anyway, I find something in a supermarket called 'pork crunchies'. A bit dubious, but the ingredients read 'pork rind, pork fat, salt...' sounds pretty good.

So I'm in my car driving home, and start in on the pack, with a view to finishing them and disposing of the evidence before I cross the threshold. They are hairless, nobbly in all the wrong places, and look like a particularly large and weather-beaten quaver. Anyway I stuff a load in and start munching. Utter utter rubbish. They just turn to dust in my mouth. No salty hairy concrete, no luscious layer of pork fat. Hopeless.

I suspect the Brussels Gestapo have shut off yet another harmless pleasure.

I try to swallow but it won't go down. I stuff a few more in, hoping to get a critical mass, but just end up with a mouthful of this tasteless fine gravel. I try to swallow, and it goes down the wrong way. I am now choking and spluttering. I start sneezing, the whole lot ends up on the windscreen, the steering wheel, over my trousers, everywhere.

I am now about twenty yards from my front door, so pull over sharpish, and try to wipe up the mess. Nothing to wipe with except a couple of damp kleenex I find in the glove compartment. I manage to smear a beige layer of goop over the windscreen. I open the door and try to shoo out most of the detritus, but the car looks like the inside of a microwave after a couple of hampsters have been in it for five minutes on 'high'.

I give up, guiltily stuff the pork 'crunchies' packet in my pocket and start composing excuses for the missus

The moral of the story is:

Don't go to the Physio