Tag Archives: osteopath

Wot I loved today: someone fixing my bottom.


I wrote a couple of days ago about the love I feel for my bottom. Two ripe little peaches of incredibly pleasing proportions that I have never once subjected to crazy mirror abuse or cruel words. Since writing, my bottom has staged something of a rebellion. My coccyx bone curled in on itself like a little calcified poo a few days ago And I stopped being able to sit down without lots of pain. And so I called the totally magic body person, aka my osteopath. It is a source of absolute amazement to me that the whole world doesn’t … Continue reading

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Run, Robinson. RUN!

A few weeks ago I was changing the sheets on my bed. Without warning, something underneath my right shoulder blade exploded agonisingly down my back and up into my neck. “Arghhh,” I whispered, immediately paralysed. The Man, who was next door, either didn’t hear or took no notice. He is used to my dramatic noises. “Arghhhh,” I repeated, with more volume. I wasn’t even looking for sympathy; the problem was that I had actually been rendered immobile and didn’t know what to do. Eventually The Man came through and found me clutching a pillowcase, petrified like a dinosaur in the … Continue reading

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