Two days into our main cidermaking week and I've already been forced into taking a breather. The rigours of milling and pressing, with the attendant humping about of apples and pomace, takes it's toll on our sadly under-developed muscles. I usually end up with one or more areas of my back in spasm at some point, and all manner of old strains and injuries are liable to make an unwelcome return at this, the worst possible time.
Yes, the back is aching, but not debilitatingly so. My dodgy knee is holding up surprisingly well so far (looks around frantically for piece of wood!), and everything seemed to be progressing fairly well, albeit a little slower than I would have liked. But at some point during the first session, I appear to have strained a small area of my left hand, not so big as to render it useless, but it had become progressively more painful to use over the course of the second day. Such a small injury, but one in such a crucial position for lifting, washing, and shovelling apples and pomace, that I may as well have milled and pressed the bloody hand itself for all the use it is now.
I intend to rest it on Sunday, which means Karen will be cooking the roast, and driving me to the pub, and I'll have to remember to lift my Sunday lunchtime pint(s) strictly with my right hand only. Not all bad then...
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