Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Galloway a Pain in the Neck – the Proof
On my way back from the doctor’s this morning I passed a rack of today’s newspapers. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of what appeared to be George Galloway in a giant love heart with Sarah Teather on the front of this morning’s Sun. My head whipped round, and I uttered a very manly squeak of agony (my neck currently being in some pain). Fortunately, the party is spared its most punishing sexual revelation so far: looked at straight on, the undercover Sun reporter the hapless Mr Galloway ‘dated’ yesterday looks very little like Sarah. Phew.
Neither my PC nor I have been in the best of health for the last few days, so I’ve a fair bit to catch up on. After we had a day out visiting friends on Sunday (more of that, perhaps, later), Monday morning saw my computer greeting me with the Blue Screen of Death. The moral of the story is that I should follow the advice I frequently gave when teaching people basic computer skills – to regularly run scandisk and defrag, and make regular backups. Eventually I was able to so, and by yesterday I’d nursed it back to health. It was at that point, naturally, that I did something horrible to my upper back – no, not in a Valentine’s Day sort of way – to put me in excruciating pain when, say, dancing the fandango. Or nodding slightly.
So that’s what brought me trotting out to the doctor this morning after very little sleep (particular thanks go both to the pain between the shoulder blades and the neighbour’s alarm going off at 5am), wincing at each jarring step. I now have two different types of painkiller, so I’m no longer creaking painfully as I type. One of them must be taken with food, so I interpret that as a medical instruction to eat an unfeasible amount of chocolate, which always makes me feel better.
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Neither my PC nor I have been in the best of health for the last few days, so I’ve a fair bit to catch up on. After we had a day out visiting friends on Sunday (more of that, perhaps, later), Monday morning saw my computer greeting me with the Blue Screen of Death. The moral of the story is that I should follow the advice I frequently gave when teaching people basic computer skills – to regularly run scandisk and defrag, and make regular backups. Eventually I was able to so, and by yesterday I’d nursed it back to health. It was at that point, naturally, that I did something horrible to my upper back – no, not in a Valentine’s Day sort of way – to put me in excruciating pain when, say, dancing the fandango. Or nodding slightly.
So that’s what brought me trotting out to the doctor this morning after very little sleep (particular thanks go both to the pain between the shoulder blades and the neighbour’s alarm going off at 5am), wincing at each jarring step. I now have two different types of painkiller, so I’m no longer creaking painfully as I type. One of them must be taken with food, so I interpret that as a medical instruction to eat an unfeasible amount of chocolate, which always makes me feel better.
