A new dawn... well dusk, actually

It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life for me…  as Nina Simone was prone to blurt out from time to time.

 

Yes, I am a reborn walking footballer – I now have boots actually designed for playing on Astroturf.

 

I also have new shin pads but haven’t had the nerve to wear them yet.

 

Full kit w**ker – I hear you cry. And I wouldn’t blame you.

 

On this late-February evening, it’s as if change is afoot.

 

I set off from home and it was still light – light!!.

And the weather is very mild – a disturbing 15C – which makes it feel more like a May evening.

 

But alas, all is not perfection. Welcome to the life of a middle-aged man.

 

Knee trouble.

 

A couple of weeks ago, I sustained what I have described to people ever since (in some detail) as an Amsterdam kerb injury.

 

Now that sounds like a euphemism, but it was actually very innocent.

 

We were in the Dutch capital for a short break, walking on a quaint cobbled canal-side street looking up at the impressive (if incredibly narrow) houses.

 

As a cyclist sped by at what seemed around 70kmh, I simply misjudged stepping onto a kerb to get out of the way.

 

Didn’t hurt much at the time, but a twisted knee at my age takes an aeon to heal.

 

And a couple of weekends of stepladder-based home-decorating haven’t helped the recovery process.

 

But hey ho.

 

Remarkably, I play well (at least that’s is my opinion), and while the adrenaline is flowing and the competitive blood pumping, the knee feels fine.

 

The morning after is a different matter.

 

Did a wayward horse kick me in the knee last night?

 

Oh no, I remember, I just overdid it (again!) in walking football.

 

Will I ever learn?

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