Blue is the colour.

It has been a long time since I picked up (pressed down on?) a keyboard. In fact, nearly six weeks have passed since my full-hip (ball and socket) operation at Birmingham's Royal Orthopaedic Hospital (ROH) on the last day of September. The failure to blog since has arisen from a combination of the experience of physical discomfort and a dearth of energy and optimism.

So, firstly, by way of explanation, the seat at my desk is a little low for me to follow the first of the three golden rules of hip-replacement therapy - at all times keep your knee below the hip - otherwise you experience stiffness and pain in your new joint which may, as with transgression of rules 2 and 3, result in dislocation.

Now, I already knew something about the discrimination visited on 'high-seatist people' because of my earlier experience with sciatica/spinal/neurological problems - but I now know a great deal more. The simplest, shortest, excursion can be a nightmare if I need to sit down. There is evidently a 'low-seatist' conspiracy designed to force 'high-seatists' like myself, either to gather on uncomfortable bar stools in dimly lit and badly-serviced nightclub ghettos - or to emigrate to Kenya in the hope they will be accepted into the high-furniture homes of Masai tribesmen and their families. Don't believe me? Just have a look at how many low seats put your knees above your hips! Once you see it, you can't stop.

Whoops, I digress; a hobbyhorse of mine.

Rule 2, by the way, is 'Never cross your legs' and rule 3; 'Never twist your trunk to reach for something behind you'. Fortunately a lot of work must have been done in recent years on these issues and discrimination, though by no means extinguished, has been effectively addressed.

You may have lost the thread by now but the second reason for my failure to blog has resulted from the struggle, over the course of the last few weeks, with a sense that things were not good; improvements in mobility were painfully slow, various ailments took on sinister proportions - and there hasn't been much to watch on the TV.

However, as this blog bears witness, in  the last couple of days I have detected some progress. The TV is still awful but the ailments have quietened and mobility has discernibly improved.

So, yesterday we went to the theatre - a place 'normal' people inhabit. This was our first trip out involving  a drive of some distance (Stratford) with myself hauled onto the back seat (knee level with, but not above, hip) and the first outing for my new and highly-coveted, blue badge.

I, or rather Di, submitted a lengthy medical treatise to the blue badge agency but I was, nevertheless, called for an assessment. Richard drove us to Harborne; he has an SUV-type vehicle which seemed to offer a solution to the transport problem but even that proved uncomfortable. After extracting me from the car, I was seen by an occupational therapist who put me through my mini-paces.Though impressed by my 'crutch control', in an upstairs office she confided that, within moments of seeing me, there was never any likelihood of my being refused.

Some weeks later, the blue badge was desperate to show what it could do. So, after a hassle-free drive down the M40 we began to cruise the streets close to the Royal Shakespeare Theatre (RST). Within a short period of time we chanced upon a nearly-empty, on-street, disabled parking bay just yards from the theatre.

Minutes later, people parting like the waters of the Red Sea, I made my way propelled in an SUV-modified wheelchair (lots of cushions) and was soon safely installed in a bay reserved for me in the auditorium. The people immediately behind me had to stand throughout the play (Richard II) but that was a minor hiccup, given the knee-hip calculus.

We enjoyed the play, we enjoyed the drive, we enjoyed being in the world without pain (though, in truth, I was 'dosed up to the nostrils').

Today, I had my second hydrotherapy session at the ROH. My first had been something of a disappointment because the promised ambulance had failed to arrive. Before anyone begins to mutter, I want to point out that the ROH insisted on providing transport and at this time we had yet to try any alternative. In any case, once sampled, it is impossible to decline the experience. I have never felt so safe, so cared-for as I did on those three journeys between home and hospital. If I was picky, the only thing missing was the police motorcycle escort - that would have been a thoughtful addition.

Today's full hydrotherapy session helped to sustain and reinvigorate the sense of progress with my mobility.

So, now I can blog again - you have been warned.

P.S. thanks for the cards, best wishes, emails, visits, help, love, offers of help, apples, flowers, loan of dvds, books...............