Thought for today:
"I know that most chaps can be typed cast as either being a face or a boobs person whenever looking at an attractive woman, but not me; I'm most definitely a legs person and I've a pretty good idea as to why.
It stems from my accident as an 11-year-old boy when a large lorry ran over me and I couldn't walk for three years. Because my body had been wrapped around the drive shaft of the lorry which I was trapped under for an hour, my injuries were extensive and life threatening. I remained on the danger list for a long time while the specialists kept me alive and applied their attention and surgical skills to my gravest injuries, (a punctured lung, a damaged spine and every rib in my chest broken, with the exception of two).
I had also broken both my limbs in multiple places, but by the time they got around to dealing with my legs, they found my left leg had been broken on the knee, plus five other places and had been left badly twisted. Because of my damaged spine, my parents were told that I'd never walk again. Nevertheless, they tried to straighten my left leg after mending the two breaks in my right one. In total, I was to have over fifty operations on my left leg over the following years, breaking and resetting. By the time I did walk again three years later, I'd stopped growing and my left leg was now three inches shorter than my right leg.
While normal mobility did eventually return to me against the medical prognosis, my legs were left imbalanced and somewhat crooked to look at. Yet, all of my life thereafter, and despite the acute osteoarthritis that emerged twenty five years ago which resulted in my early retirement from my work as a Probation Officer, I have always loved my legs and considered them as the most beautiful part of my body. When they stopped working and were expected never to move again, they listened to my mental instructions and the whisper of my heart instead of following the expectations of the medics.
When I started work, the very first part of my wardrobe I treated myself to from my earnings was a good pair of shoes. And though it frequently shames me to think about it, particularly in these times of austerity, my greatest indulgence in adult years has always been to treat my loyal legs to the best pair of shoes money can buy. Naturally the most comfortable shoes to wear have usually been the most costly and I have been known to spend a considerable amount of money upon footwear that flatter both ego and stride.
So whilst having a pair of legs I love dearly, but ones which have been through the mangle and back, despite the irony, I wouldn't dream of being seen walking out with any woman who didn't have a good pair of pins on her. My reasoning may be considered arrogant in the extreme, but to me it is self evident. I simply think too much about my own legs not to be concerned with any other pair they might become entwined with." William Forde: August 9th, 2016.
"I know that most chaps can be typed cast as either being a face or a boobs person whenever looking at an attractive woman, but not me; I'm most definitely a legs person and I've a pretty good idea as to why.
It stems from my accident as an 11-year-old boy when a large lorry ran over me and I couldn't walk for three years. Because my body had been wrapped around the drive shaft of the lorry which I was trapped under for an hour, my injuries were extensive and life threatening. I remained on the danger list for a long time while the specialists kept me alive and applied their attention and surgical skills to my gravest injuries, (a punctured lung, a damaged spine and every rib in my chest broken, with the exception of two).
I had also broken both my limbs in multiple places, but by the time they got around to dealing with my legs, they found my left leg had been broken on the knee, plus five other places and had been left badly twisted. Because of my damaged spine, my parents were told that I'd never walk again. Nevertheless, they tried to straighten my left leg after mending the two breaks in my right one. In total, I was to have over fifty operations on my left leg over the following years, breaking and resetting. By the time I did walk again three years later, I'd stopped growing and my left leg was now three inches shorter than my right leg.
While normal mobility did eventually return to me against the medical prognosis, my legs were left imbalanced and somewhat crooked to look at. Yet, all of my life thereafter, and despite the acute osteoarthritis that emerged twenty five years ago which resulted in my early retirement from my work as a Probation Officer, I have always loved my legs and considered them as the most beautiful part of my body. When they stopped working and were expected never to move again, they listened to my mental instructions and the whisper of my heart instead of following the expectations of the medics.
When I started work, the very first part of my wardrobe I treated myself to from my earnings was a good pair of shoes. And though it frequently shames me to think about it, particularly in these times of austerity, my greatest indulgence in adult years has always been to treat my loyal legs to the best pair of shoes money can buy. Naturally the most comfortable shoes to wear have usually been the most costly and I have been known to spend a considerable amount of money upon footwear that flatter both ego and stride.
So whilst having a pair of legs I love dearly, but ones which have been through the mangle and back, despite the irony, I wouldn't dream of being seen walking out with any woman who didn't have a good pair of pins on her. My reasoning may be considered arrogant in the extreme, but to me it is self evident. I simply think too much about my own legs not to be concerned with any other pair they might become entwined with." William Forde: August 9th, 2016.
