Another day, another Physio session pop-kids. I'm now onto below-the-waist weightlifting, and frequently pepper my conversation with terms such as Quads, Hams and Glutes. All very necessary en route to complete recovery I know, but at the same time I'm concerned that my right-leg (the left one isn't involved much at all in these shenanagins) will end up looking like it once belonged to the Thing from the Fantastic 4, while the rest of my withered and under-developed frame looks on with horror and foreboding. Come to think of it, I may even end up in the Fantastic 4 at this rate.
Whatever the case I'll look sensational in a bikini come June, this much I know.

Just about to climb into bed when I learned that Lux Interior, singer and founder of The Cramps died earlier today, or yesterday as it now is. Simply one of the greatest performers to front a band ever. Definitely gave me an appreciation of certain kinds of Old Music. He seemed to Live the Life, as it's politely put, without endlessly banging on about it in the press like bands these days do. He was married to the guitar-player Poison Ivy. You just had to see him in the flesh, staggering round the stage in stilettos with his pants around his knees, and it was clear that this guy probably never prioritised getting down to the gym much.
I prefer to remember them from the bass-less Lux/Ivy/Brian Gregory/Nick Knox era, so I've posted the only footage I could find (with audio) featuring that line-up. It's their now legendary mental hospital gig in '78.
Tomorrow, do yourselves a favour pop-kids, obtain and listen to Songs the Lord taught Us.