In Praise of Luther

I reported a week or two ago that my back had gone on strike. I was playing touch rugby when I bent down to place the ball on the ground and my spine just locked solid. I managed to straighten up and get home but after the weekend I could still barely move. Digging was slow and laborious and Mrs Moog Keeper had to do the lion’s share of any allotment work. Then a friend at work said he’d been suffering with a stiff neck and recommended a good clinic, so I got the number and made an appointment as soon as I could.

Enter Luther the Chiropractor. Managing effortlessly to look smart and casual at the same time, he didn’t look old enough at first glance to have completed the training. Nevertheless he has three sets of letters after his name and I’m left in no doubt that he knows what he’s doing. After an initial consultation he proceeded to fold me into various positions of the sort you might find on an ancient Egyptian frieze, before performing what seemed like a cross between emergency heart massage and sitting on your holiday suitcase to get it shut. My spine made a noise like a Rubik’s Cube going through a mangle.

And now, what joy! After one visit to Luther I could move and sleep again, and after a few follow up visits I’m happy to say I’m totally mobile, and what a difference it has made to my work rate. I dug over three of my abandoned beds last week, all 3m x 1.8m, without having to keep stopping every other spade-full. “Ooh, you’ve done loads,” said Mrs Moog Keeper. Long may it continue. Thanks Luther.