I've been away seven weeks and the world changed. At least now my leg is free.

7 weeks is a damn long time.

7 weeks. That's almost 2 months. When I injured myself, I was 27, full of hopes for the forthcoming London Marathon, ready to get my blue belt and already thinking about Ian's bachelor party.

Now I'm 28, the marathon just passed me by and the only blue I've seen for so many weeks was the colour of my fiberglass plaster on my broken leg. At least, even on my crutches, I enjoyed a nice stag night wasting my money drinking and paying strip dancers. And, thank to the sympathy generated by my suffering, I even managed to paid 7 private dances for the price of 5. Not bad, uh?

Many thing happened. Last month, Ian - my all american friend - got married to Sarah, just two days after that crazy night. I travelled to the mysterious welsh lands to enjoy fantastic food and free booze. I couldn't dance though, and my desperate efforts with the crutches were only painful. But Ian's weeks of important events didn't end with the stag night and the wedding, not at all. He managed to scored his first goal for the Parson's Green football club. Well done.

Football. There is nothing in the world more frustrating than sitting on the bench and watching your teammates fighting on the pitch. Nothing. Especially if you're the captain. The not playing captain. How sad. The finally won last week, after enough defeats to made me even more depressed.

The Pope died. Always liked him. You know, he's probably the only Pope who has a webpage on imdb.com. How could I not like him? He was polish, like half of my blood, and he lived in Italy, like the other half. He liked sport and theatre and screenwriting. Probably when he was younger he used to pull birds. And in the 80s he was really a strong and almost a superhero like figure, with his white uniform and his superpowers (who could back then bring millions of people to listen to him without being a dictator?). For a kid like me and my sister, he was just cool. He made mistakes like anyone else, huge mistakes, but people should stop thinking that religion must be fashionable and it should change their own rules every 10 years. It's not about that. And here I stop my religious point of view, before someone will attack me again.

Prince Ranieri died. Don't know much about him, but we should all thank him because he gave to the world two princesses who were never shy of topless.

My cat died. My old Pulce, the Don Corleone of the cats in my area. In his long lasting career, more than 10 years, he managed to kill or scare to death every single male rival, and keep around him a selection of kitties. I always liked his way of handling relationship with the females. Even if tomorrow I start a career in the porn industry, I would never been able in the next 40 years to achieve what my cat did in the last 10. He was the man. The 10 seconds man. God bless him.

Well, I'm back. A bit fatter and with something small, smelly and stiff. My left leg, I mean. The summer is coming and in few months the next football season is starting again, and I want to be ready.
Ok, time for a stroll. To the toilet and back. 10 minutes of baby steps...