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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

Note to all ladies in London who are still insisting in wearing those long stupid white peasant skirts: we can all see your big fat white granny pants underneath them. It's disturbing, especially when standing behind you on the escalators, and I'd like you to stop.

I went to the doctor today, who said I was some kind of medical miracle. I've got some strange pains in my feet that she absolutely couldn't explain. We kept going through the same questions over and over again.

"So they're very sore in the morning?"
"Yeah."
"Even if you're not been out the night before?"
"Yeah."
"And they hurt after about 20 minutes of walking?"
"Steady walking. I can meander as much as I like."
"Right. But your ankles aren't sore?"
"No."
"Or your knees?"
"No."
"And they don't get swollen?"
"No."
"Are they cold?"
"Not really."
"Do they turn blue?"
"No."
"Right."

At one point, she just sat there staring at me, and uttered the phrase "Huh".

I get to go for blood tests on Thursday morning, so unless the nurse is a MIRACLE WORKER with a needle, I'll be posting up some fabulous bruise photos on Thursday evening.

In a terrible reversal of fortune, He Who Only... is currently crippled with back pain, having played some sport in the manner of an 18 year old, forgetting that's he's slightly north of that age these days. This means that he is, at this very second, lying on the floor with his legs stretched out staring at the skirting board and waiting for the ibuprofen to kick in. Now I know what it's like to live with someone who's being "brave" and "stoic" while occassionally bursting out with brilliantly grumpy expletives when trying to pick something up, I understand that he is a man with infinite patience, considering how often he's had to put up with that behaviour from me.

Bless.

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