The title of this post isn't the upsetting echo of a poorly remembered children's TV programme. Instead, more upsettingly, it's an abridged summary of my current physical health. I have knackered my back. To be more specific, its ongoing state of knackeredness has entered a new period of further belligerence. It's getting better, so don't feel too sorry for me. Also save your sympathies because it's sort of my own fault. The problem, as I explained to a doctor, was that being a software engineer, my day job involves a lot of sitting down. And in the evenings? Well yes, that's more sitting down I'm afraid.
A standing desk was suggested. I've actually tried this before, and it turns out that standing up also hurts my back. At this point I'm not sure whether there's anything that doesn't make it hurt. Just writing this sentence is probably going to throw it further out of whack. The standing desk wasn't a terrible idea, but both writing code and writing fiction require a certain amount of concentration that I can't achieve without wondering how much more comfortable I'd be in a chair. Perhaps I just don't like standing up? It doesn't seem an unreasonable prejudice. I once had a Saturday job working in Bacons shoes in Coalville, every minute of which I had to spend on my feet. In those days my back was yet to start grumbling, but my feet certainly had a lot to say. Although perhaps they'd have been happier if I hadn't been wearing shoes from the same shop.
This has all taken its toll on my writing. The day job takes precedence as it's the only one making me any money. So I try to limit my extracurricular sitting. I try to keep myself moving. I stretch. I do Pilates. It's not like I'm sitting on my arse all day, but well, I'm also 55 and this apparently is just what happens sometimes. I don't imagine I'm alone. In fact I imagine this is a common affliction amongst writers, unless it weeds them all out in their middle age. Don't worry though, I'm not here to seek advice either. Instead I'm going to use this situation as an excuse to list my top five narrative fiction back moments, starting with…
#5 - Quasimodo, from Victor Hugo's The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Let's just get the grandaddy of back problems out of the way quickly, before there's any time to dwell on whether or not the character has enabled the mocking of physical disabilities. "The Bells! The Bells!" cried Winston Churchill as he tried to gauge his hangover against last night's Luftwaffe raid.
#4 - William Shakespeare's Richard III. "Harp not on that string…" and yet, here I am, harping on about not just my back but another hunchback. I once had my back ruined by a four-hour ride on a Megabus, so I can only imagine what 527 years under a car park must have done to an already thoroughly wonky set of vertebrae.
#3 - F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby concludes with the phrase "borne back ceaselessly into the past". It's commonly understood to be about the futility of trying to escape ourselves, but my back's fucked from sitting on a fancy Herman Miller chair and tappy-typing on a laptop. God knows what state Frankie boy's spine was in after hammering out the great American novel on a mechanical typewriter. It was clearly very much on his mind as he finished his work and looked forward to sprawling on the sofa.
#2 - Back in the USSR, from The Beatles' The Beatles. The Beatles were all about backbeat so it was only appropriate that this was recorded while Ringo was on a sabbacktical in the Soviet Union. An early attempt at playing Octopus's Garden as an eight-limbed drummer had left him in dire need of spinal surgery so specific that he had to travel beyond the Iron Curtain to get the band back together.
#1 - The Empire Strikes Back, from George Lucas via Irving Kershner. Everyone who has yet to realise that Star Wars is the best Star Wars film says that this is the best Star Wars film. This isn't a terrible opinion to have, but the problem is that it's only half a film, ending as it does with an injured Luke healing while the rebels lick their own wounds. This is of course a metaphor for doing your back in. Yes, things are bad, and it hurts, but bide your time and Jesus Christ what now? Fucking Ewoks? It's never quite the resolution you were hoping for. Keep popping the painkillers, you've still got Episode One to look forward to.
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