There is a soundtrack that accompanies ageing, the first one you probably notice is the orgasmic yelp accompanying any sort rising from a low position, ascent rather than assent. Then there are brief bouts of tinnitus, where you stop your ears to check if it's the radio - or a mosquito - disappointingly it isn't, though in the case of the mosquito this could be a good thing. Later your joints pop, growl and crackle like breakfast cereal, small explosions accompany the mundane, the click of a wrist when picking up a cup, tennis -watching can be metronomic. Later arthritis lends its peculiar sticking agony to the mix.
So then, imagine my horror as I went upstairs accompanied by a new sound, a graunchy rattling every time I raised my right leg. The sort of noise that suggests the frayed ends of gristle going through some sort of mincer, a cthonic resonance of pending catastrophic failure, should I turn round and descend to make it easier for the ambulance crew? First things first, let's investigate.
Which leg?
Right.
Put hand in pocket, hold change and keys, raise leg.
Rocks fall distantly in a cave, possibly into a Deep, Dark pool.
Get to a flat area to reduce the distance of gravity-induced travel should the worst happen. WHAT'S THE WORST? I dunno knee-cap going for a meander, joints misaligning like a five year old's Meccano, detached h... SHUT UP!
Take off trousers to avoid any pocket-induced noise, raise leg.
Concorde reaches Mach1 about 15 miles away.
Unsettled, my balance shifts.
Death plays boney dice with the Devil for the souls of the damne...
Wait a minute. The heel of my shoe has worn through, it is hollow, inside there is a pebble, that rattles in a synovially-challenged way as I walk.
I laugh, and, as I sink to the bed in relief my neck creaks!
