We spent the day in Launceston yesterday catching up on a few appointments. Marilyn had to deal with her hair and I had physio and optometrist to endure. After the usual 'stand up, walk around, sit down' the physio was happy to scratch me from her books. As she said, "You know what you have to do; it's up to you whether you do it." I detected a note of cynicism, but that's OK.
The optometrist was more positive. No signs of deterioration, all good. In fact he said, "You're tracking well." Or, it might have been, "You're trucking well." But in either case, it's a daft metaphor. What's my progress have to do with bloodhounds, or huge vehicles hurtling down the highway, squashing small animals and spewing diesel fumes into the atmosphere?
I'm a fan of colourful language, but it has to maintain some connection with reality.
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