Looking back on it, going straight from taking possession of my new leg to a weekend play-writing masterclass in central London was not such a great idea.  Every uneven paving stone, every revolving door, every banister-free flight of stairs felt like a challenge too far.  My mind kept wandering from how to structure a scene and create a character to how I could possibly take my leg off and crawl out of the room without anyone noticing.  I returned, sorer and wiser, to the rehab centre for some adjustments where my prosthetist was kind enough not to say I told you so.