"Verily, thou has suffered enough slings and arrows and big toes the size of the Hindenburg", and with a wave of his deformed hand, the crystals began to melt.
I cannnot describe what good news this is.I had slept poorly again, enough to get by, but meaning lots of coffee would be needed.
I limped around the house, trying not to stub my toe. Jools went walking, I had a shower to get ready for another early meeting at seven.I arranged a dining room chair so I could prop my foot up and began to work.
I had my mobile and landline next to me for when the doctor would call. As I was hoping to get some drugs. At this point I would have accepted Sanatogen if I thought it would stop the hurting.
From the meeting and into the audit, though my part was done, I stayed on the line until I got another call and so began another day.
But, but, something was changing. The swelling from the previous day had gone down, and there was less pain. Maybe enough to try to put the shoe on?
Maybe.The doctor rang at half eleven, he agreed with my self-diagnosis, which was nice. And he prescribed pills, an initial batch, then when I had used those, something to take every day.
I got up, went to put on my coat, pulled on my socks, and with the shoehorn and lots of grunting and swearing, put the shoe on my left foot. It smarted so much it brought tears to my eyes.
But I had done it, and the pain eased, so I picked up two cameras and walked out of the house, up the drive and into the street, further than I had been for two weeks.
I walked to the grassy footpath between our street and Collingwood, nothing much new, but the Russian Comfrey was out and full of hungry bees like chavs round a Wetherpoons.
Up to Collingwood then down past the rows of houses to the soundtrack of lawnmowers and hedge trimmers.
Its the sound of summer.Back down the track to check for rare plants, none seen, so out over the fields to Fleet House, then back along Collingwood, down the track and home.
By the end I was barely moving, one foot in front of the other, by hip aching for the way I was walking, but on and on I walked until I was home.Walk done, plants photographed.
Back home I took my shoes off, made a brew and put my foot back up, waiting for the expected pain to come.
But it didn't come.It ached. Throbbed.
But was bearable.
So, back to work.
The day drew to an end, I was able to walk round the house mostly without limping, which was really good I have to say.
At four, Jen came to pick me up, s I put the shoes back on. There was some swearing.She drove me to the surgery the other side of the village, I waited outside for my turn, then the nurse went to get my bag of drugs.
I smiled.Back to the car, Jen took me home.
Dinner was to be aubergines, so when I was preparing them, I took two pills and hoped this was really the end of the gout.
I finished just as Jools came home from work, a huge plate of golden discs, which we tell ourselves are healthy, which they might be, cooked in olive oil.
Still no booze for me, I have more squash.
I sit for the evening with my foot up, but the pain doesn't return. I spend the evening following Ipswich on Ipswich Twitter. They lost 3-0 to Wimbledon, or was that three-love? And had a player sent off.
Why do Norwich fans, on the brink of promotion back to the Prem troll us, asked a Binner.
Two reasons:
1. You did it to us when we dropped to Division 3 and then lost 7-1 to Colchester.
2. Its funny. And its football.
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