Saturday, 8 July 2017

Back for good...

There's not many better ways of spending an afternoon than laid out on your back semi naked while a much younger gentleman plies your skin with expensive smelling oils.  If only I didn't have to pay him by the hour...

But that's osteopaths for you I suppose...

I was back there (excuse the pun) to have my head pulled out of my shoulders.  This is an annual event, brought on by a car accident zillions of years ago, and my wonderful osteopath (Jon McSwiney at www.castleosteopathy.me) has been doing this for me for so long now, that when I appear in his waiting room, no words are really necessary, other than, 'Get on the bed'.  He does something with my head which defies all laws common to nature, and it doesn't matter how many times he does it, I am always mildly surprised that my head is still on my shoulders when I leave.   One day I reckon he's going to hand me my head in a carrier bag saying, 'Ever so sorry, I may have pushed that a little too far today'.

But what I love best about my osteopath is that I rarely have to go back twice for treatment in the same year.  He's that good, that one session always does the trick.  If only every practitioner I've seen over the years was the same.  I have been victim to some spectacular 'fobbing off' over the years.  One of my personal favourites was a locum doctor telling me that the intense knee pain I was suffering was because my 'patella had derailed'.  

Well, I had no access to google, and couldn't look up what a 'patella' was, so to be honest with you, at that moment he could have been talking about any part of my body, and secondly, since when did a kneecap (I asked him in the absence of my laptop) sit on rails? Ignorance can be taken advantage of on occasions I feel.

So back to yesterday.  After my 'adjustment', I met up with some lovely friends from work for an early doors supper and drinks down by the river.  These kind of evenings when you can sit outside past 9.00pm without having to grab a jumper/thermal jacket/knee rug are so rare, and it was a beautiful way to end a hard week.  Sitting next to us was a couple with a happy little dog, who didn't stop wagging his tail for the whole three hours we were there.

I did consider asking them if they fancied selling him, or at least hiring him out, as having him next to the bed at night would be great as his bushy tail wafted over me keeping me slightly cooler than boiling point. Getting out of the small puddle this morning which makes up my side of the bed, I cursed the hot night with as much passion as I had praised the beautiful evening which had preceded it.

If only the night had a thermostat...


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