About my body

I weigh around 75 kg and am about 1m78 tall.

These are the two pieces of information (after a mug shot) that seem to be thought most useful by security services and others in order to identify someone, but it doesn’t really tell you very much other than that I am of average build for a Northern European.
When I saw Jon Day for the first time in ages last year, seeing we were both about to become fifty, he asked me if any bits had dropped off yet, and I was pleased to say no. My body is still in reasonable order, but inevitable signs of wear and tear are starting to show. However, unlike a car which you can change, I’m stuck with this one. So it’s worth looking after it. In this “about being here” I want to attempt to describe my body as dispassionately as I can.

I still have plenty of hair, originally a mousey brown colour but now greying at the temples. As a student I used to wear it quite long (as one did in those days), but since I started working I have kept it shortish, as we interpreters have to look respectable and it’s convenient not to have it over my ears for the headphones. I’ve had a beard since I was 18, which is also greying and I keep it short too. It’s much less hassle to trim it once a week that it would be to shave every day.

My eyes are sort of greyish but tend to reflect the dominant ambient colour so their colour is a bit hard to pin down. My eyesight was excellent until a couple of years ago and is still very good at a distance. Sadly though, I now have to resort to glasses in poor light for anything that is printed small, which includes maps, much to my frustration. Failing eyesight is one of the incontrovertible signs of getting older.
I am colour-blind and have difficulty distinguishing between brown and green ( a mild form of red/green colour-blindness). I remember at junior school being given the important task of painting Mary in the nativity scene and then being told off for doing her hair green. To this day I sometimes get people to check whether I’ve picked up the right colour when painting and drawing. I work on the basis of convention: wood is brown, grass is green.

My teeth have turned out to be fairly fragile, I’m forever having to go to the dentist because a bit has chipped off one or a filling fallen out. Recently a molar has been hurting which is probably heading for a root canal job; I’m not very good at putting up with pain.
When I was a kid my teeth stuck out and I had to have some fairly major orthodontic work when I was about eleven. They’re still not a pretty sight. My smile tends to be a bit nervous.
I must move my face a fair bit because it has become quite lined.

My fingers are quite knobbly and thin but good for playing the guitar and generally not bad at tasks requiring some dexterity. My little finger is crooked. I inherited it from my father: he says it’s for raking in the money. I’ve never done much hard manual work so apart from the guitar finger-tips my hands are fairly soft.
My arms are pretty weak generally and let me down after a while when climbing.

I’ve never been particularly strong physically but have a fair bit of stamina for things involving my legs.
My favourite forms of physical activity (I hesitate to use the word sport as they are not at all competitive) are walking, cycling, swimming and skiing. At a steady pace I can keep going for quite long periods.
My knees have always been potentially a weak point though and this year have started to hurt more often than in the past so I have had them examined. It turns out that my legs are not straight. Therefore, my weight does not pass through the centre of my knees as it should, so over the years the cartilage has worn out considerably on the inside of them. My most serious problem is walking back down a mountain (prolonged steep and uneven descent) which I really need a pair of sticks to do comfortably now. Cycling remains relatively problem-free, as also most flattish and uphill walking. The lack of certainty that my knees will behave over a longish outing places a question mark against my ability to continue to do certain things I enjoy. I don’t intend to stop, I’ll just have to find out as I go along. The medical advice anyway is to continue to exercise as much as possible to maintain muscle tone. Swimming is also something doctors recommend and that I enjoy, but I only really swim much in the summer as I’m not a great lover of indoor pools.
I like to get outside and be on the move whenever I can. I easily become fidgety on a wet day when I am free but feel compelled to stay indoors.

Another area where age seems to be catching up is my back which every now and again feels stiff particularly in the lumbar region. Bad backs are common for interpreters as ours is a sedentary and potentially stressful occupation. Mine’s not so bad as some people’s, but I do feel it’s not as lithe as it once was, so I generally take care when doing any lifting and keep well wrapped up when out cycling in the cold.
I find generally as I get older that I feel the cold more and like to stay warm, so I look on in amazement at how little some young people including my son wear.
Also I’ve always been prone to sore throats; so given that I work with my voice that is certainly a problem for me professionally and another good reason to kep warm.

They say in French “Quand l’appétit va, tout va”: usually I am a hearty eater, as you may have gathered from “About food”. The corollary of that is that I am also a pretty big producer at the other end and seem to spend rather a lot of time on the loo. At least that implies that my metabolism is effective.
I’ve always eaten a quite healthy diet and never smoked. My inner organs appear to be in good order.
I probably drink more wine and beer that I should. I was laid low by hepatitis ‘A’ for three months in 1989, but my liver recovered very well and it copes with what I throw at it. It’s relatively rare these days that I go so far as to have a full-on hangover the next day, but when I do, it takes me significantly longer to recover from it than when I was a student.
Once I was told that my cholestorol was too high. I did nothing about it and the next time I was told it was fine, so I am somewhat sceptical about such statements. Generally I feel fine, so I don’t worry about what I eat and drink.
Very occasionally, like anyone else, I fall victim to someone else’s kitchen’s bad hygeine and have a horrific night. In retrospect these occasions seem funny, but not at the time. Once, returning from Croatia, Clara and me had both eaten the same something iffy and after an emergency stop in the car had to leap out together and crouch in the dark by the side of the road. It was a strangely bonding experience which had the effect of making us forget a row we’d just been having.

Since I’ve touched on the life of our couple, no survey of the body would be complete without a mention of sex. But it will only be a mention, as sex is a private matter, and that is to say it is wonderful.

So all in all, my body continues to serve me well and any complaints are relatively minor. That very fact is in itself a wonder after so much time. We so easily take it for granted but our “soft machine” is nothing short of a miracle. Just take a moment to consider our hands or our eyes or any other part of it. We should always be alert to the needs of our body and we ignore them at our peril. Montaigne writes that man’s condition is eminently physical: you cannot have life without life of the body.

My body is fundamental to and an integral part of my human experience.