After a great dance class at Pineapple on Saturday afternoon, given by a very enthusiastic and therefore motivating teacher, I discovered that what I thought was merely a stiff hip flexor is actually a weird swollen lump at the top of my right leg. Something in my subconscious has gone '!!!...' and is now demanding comfort food, like my sister's uber-gooey brownies or my dad's cheese straws. And I feel dazed and worried and queasy. All because of some random lump. Amazing how, in times of mental distraction and unease, I find myself grimly scrubbing the kitchen sink and aimlessly browsing the fluffiest whitest towels in the homeware section at Debenhams. I also managed to all but set fire to my brother-in-law, James, in my abstracted state. I was attempting to help him clear a blocked ear, imagining myself as Florence Nightingale, when a piece of burning wick from the Chinese ear candle went astray. And he was too polite to complain; instead he meekly submitted to my ministrations until the candle was finished before asking for a block of ice! This is a brave man indeed. And let it not be said that English manners are moribund!
The weekend winds to its lingering conclusion. Tomorrow I'm on the phone to the doctor first thing, to hopefully have my grisly fears dashed. But until then, I think I'll go plant something in the garden.
On second thoughts, maybe the Great British Rain-Off has nixed that idea. But I have procured myself a block of vintage cheddar from Sainsburys, poured myself a glass of cheap French white and I've just remembered that everything is going to be alright.
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I've always said thesps and fire are a bad combination ;-).
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