Were the words uttered by the osteopath (also called Samantha, equally lovely, but in a very happy relationship. So friends we stay.)
"I couldn't help it!" I stammered "I needed to move the washing machine..."
She merely pursed her lips, cracked her knuckles, and inflicted a suitable punishment. So I'm now walking in a marginally more pained fashion than before. I'm not sure its supposed to work this way.
On the plus side, the surgery is located in a place called "The Harmony Centre". Slightly odd, and painted an apparently soothing shade of lilac. I certainly felt soothed as I staggered down the stairs, pausing only to inflict a mild dose of concussion upon myself thanks to a thoughtfully placed sign saying "Mind Your Head"
I'll be back. Do I have an Ex story for you tonight, or do I have an Ex story for you tonight...
